"I have a date tomorrow night." Gabriel Castellan went perfectly still.

The shift was instantaneous and absolute.

Gabriel stepped out of the SUV, pulling a sleek silver pistol from his shoulder holster, checking the chamber with a crisp, practiced clack.

"Dante! Lock down the perimeter!" Gabriel ordered, his voice echoing across the courtyard over the roaring wind. "Get Vera into the safe room on the second floor. Nobody leaves this house!"

Vera stepped out into the rain, her dress soaking through instantly. "What's going on?!"

"Inside! Now!" Gabriel roared, grabbing her by her upper arm and ushering her firmly through the heavy mahogany front doors.

Inside the foyer, four armed men in tactical gear were already moving, racking shotguns and sealing the heavy steel shutters over the sweeping floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The estate was transforming from a luxury mansion into an impenetrable war zone.

Dante grabbed Vera’s arm gently. "This way, Miss Halloway. We need to get you upstairs."

"Wait!" Vera pulled back, looking at Gabriel, who was issuing rapid orders to his lieutenants near the foot of the stairs. "Gabriel! What about you?"

Gabriel turned back to look at her.

In the harsh, flashing amber lights of the security system, he looked magnificent and terrifying—a warlord preparing for battle. He walked over to her, taking her small face in his large, gloved hands.

"The Moretti family thinks they can take advantage of a dispute at the port," Gabriel said, his voice deadly calm. "They think I'm distracted. They're wrong."

He leaned down and pressed his lips firmly to her forehead. The kiss was hot, desperate, and possessive.

"Go with Dante," he commanded softly against her skin. "I'll come for you when it's over."

Dante led Vera up the sweeping marble staircase toward the north wing. They moved quickly down a dark hallway until Dante pressed a hidden panel behind a massive oil painting. A heavy steel door slid open with a soft hydraulic hiss, revealing a luxuriously furnished room with concrete walls, leather couches, and banks of security monitors showing live feeds of the estate's exterior.

"Stay inside, Miss Halloway," Dante said, stepping back into the hall. "The door seals automatically from the inside. Don't open it for anyone except Mr. Castellan or me."

"Dante," Vera called out, her hands trembling. "Is he going to be okay?"

Dante offered a grim, faint smile. "Miss Halloway, the Morettis brought thirty men tonight. They should have brought three hundred."

The steel door slid shut, locking with a heavy triple-deadbolt chime.

Vera stood alone in the quiet, high-tech bunker.

She walked over to the bank of monitors. On the central screen, showing the front gates, she saw headlights cut through the thick fog. Three heavy black pickup trucks slammed through the iron gates, tearing up the manicured lawn. Armed men spilled out of the vehicles, raising rifles toward the estate.

Then she saw Gabriel.

He stepped out onto the front portico alone, wearing his black suit, holding two pistols at his sides. He didn't take cover. He didn't flinch.

On the live audio feed, she heard the muffled sound of automatic gunfire tearing through the night air.

Vera clutched her hands to her chest, her knees shaking so violently she had to hold onto the edge of the monitor desk.

For four months, she had thought she was afraid of Gabriel Castellan. She had thought she was terrified of his power, his dark reputation, his cold, piercing eyes.

But as she watched him fight on the screen—moving with lethal, terrifying grace through the gunfire—she realized the horrifying, beautiful truth.

She wasn't afraid of him.

She was afraid of losing him.

On the security screen, a dark figure suddenly detached itself from the shadow of the garage, bypassing the main fight on the lawn, holding a heavy iron crowbar and a suppressed handgun, heading straight for the estate’s east service entrance.

The very entrance Vera used every day.

The entrance whose security code was printed on the back of the master clipboard inside her cleaning cart.

Vera’s blood ran cold.