Rain came down on the Moretti estate like someone had paid it to. Grace Donovan got off the bus two miles short of the gates because the driver wouldn't take the

The fallout from breaking the engagement was immediate and severe.

Within forty-eight hours, Don Carmine pulled his shipping contracts from Moretti ports. Rumors circulated through the underground network that Carmine was gathering soldiers to strike at the Moretti estate. The security around the estate doubled; armed guards in dark tactical gear patrolled the perimeter twenty-four hours a day.

Yet inside the house, a quiet transformation was taking place.

Without Isabella’s oppressive presence, the atmosphere softened. And at the center of that warmth was Grace.

It was 11:00 PM on a Thursday night. Grace was sitting in the small glass conservatory attached to the rear of the estate, nursing a cup of chamomile tea. Titan and Nero were stretched out on the braided rug at her feet, snoring softly.

The glass door clicked open.

Matteo walked in, wearing only a black t-shirt and trousers, looking exhausted. The lines around his eyes were deep, but when his gaze fell upon Grace, his expression noticeably softened.

"You should be sleeping," Matteo said, sitting down on the wicker bench beside her.

"I couldn't sleep," Grace admitted, holding her warm mug with both hands. "I know what's happening outside, Matteo. Dolores told me about Don Carmine’s threats. I feel like this is my fault. If I hadn't found that poison..."

"Don't ever say that," Matteo interrupted firmly, reaching out and gently taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. "Isabella was a snake. She was leaking information to her father about my business long before you arrived. Finding that poison simply forced her to show her true face sooner. You saved me from making the biggest mistake of my life."

Grace’s breath caught in her throat. His thumb brushed softly against her jawline. His touch was warm, sending a wave of electricity straight down her spine.

"I'm just a maid, Matteo," Grace whispered, her insecurity leaking out before she could stop it. "I'm not glamorous like Isabella. I don't fit into your world. I'm just a girl from a small town with mud on her shoes."

Matteo leaned in closer, his dark eyes burning with an intense, unyielding sincerity.

"Isabella was empty," Matteo said softly, his voice low and rich. "She looked at my world and saw power to grab. She looked at those dogs and saw beasts to abuse. You walked into my house soaked in rain, dropped your bags, and showed more courage and heart than anyone I have ever met."

He stroked her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her lip.

"You are beautiful, Grace. Inside and out. In a world full of fake smiles and blood money, you are the only real thing I have touched in ten years."

Grace’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Before she could process his words, Matteo leaned down and pressed his lips gently against hers.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, then grew deep and possessive. Grace let out a soft sigh, dropping her mug onto the small table beside her, her hands rising to wrap around his broad shoulders. He pulled her flush against his chest, holding her as if she were the most precious treasure in the world.

When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathing heavily.

Titan woke up, let out a soft yawn, and bumped his wet nose against Matteo’s knee, as if giving his official blessing.