“Isabella.” The way he said my name, soft and worried, made my chest ache. At some point, we’d dropped the formalities, but I couldn’t exactly pinpoint when it had happened. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I have to go.” I gathered my things, needing to escape the shrinking conference room. To think. To plan. “Just...be careful, Colton. Some people at this bank aren’t what they seem.”

“I have to go to Italy this weekend, but meet me Monday night,” he said suddenly.

I should have said no. Should have maintained distance. Should have protected him from whatever storm was coming.

“Nine o’clock,” I heard myself say instead. “Don’t be late.”

I hung up before he could respond, before I could change my mind. Rodger’s threats echoed in my head as I walked back to my office.

My father’s sudden death had never felt right. A healthy man, meticulous about his health, struck down by a heart attack while investigating shipping discrepancies. The official explanation was too neat, too clean, like everything else at Devereux Bank.

Now I had a choice, to back off and let more girls disappear into the night, or keep digging and risk everything.

Risk Colton.

But as I sat at my desk, staring at manifests that held too many secrets, I knew there was no real choice.

Some things were worth risking everything for.

Even if that everything included the man I was trying so hard not to care for.

Chapter Eleven

Colton

The Tuscan sun was setting over Cooper and Allegra’s vineyard, painting the hills in shades of amber, creating a picture that probably belonged in one of Christie’s auctions. I sat on the terrace, watching my five-year-old niece, Clara, arrange her stuffed animals with the same meticulous attention to detail her Uncle Steele once used to plan his art heists.

“Uncle Colton, he goes here.” She handed me a worn teddy bear with the commanding authority only a kindergartener possessed. “For the view.”

“The view, huh?” I adjusted the bear’s position on my lap. “Better?”

She considered this with grave importance, her hair falling around her face. “Better.”

From the kitchen, I could hear Cooper and Allegra moving around each other with the easy synchronization of people who’d built a life together. The smell of Allegra’s cooking wafted out, something with garlic and herbs that made London’s takeaway meals seem like a sad joke.

“You’re brooding again,” Cooper hollered from inside. “I can feel it from here. Stop it.”

“I’m not brooding. I’m appreciating the view,” I yelled back towards the kitchen.

“While thinking about work.” He emerged onto the terrace with three wine glasses, Allegra following behind him with one of their best vintages. My brother, the former smuggler, now a respectable vintner. The irony wasn’t lost on me. “That counts as brooding.”

I started to protest, but Clara grabbed her bear and then climbed into my lap, effectively trapping me. “Uncle Colton needs to play, Papa.”

“Uncle Colton needs to relax,” Allegra agreed, pouring the wine. She gave me that knowing look she’d perfected since marrying my brother, the one that meant she saw straight through my bullshit. “You’ve been distracted all evening.”

“Just tired.” I accepted the wine, careful not to disturb Clara’s latest stuffed animal arrangement. “London’s been busy.”

“Busy enough to miss three family dinners?” Cooper settled into a chair, pulling Allegra down next to him. His hands, the same ones that had once moved priceless artifacts across borders, now wore the calluses of honest work. “The bank can survive without you occasionally, you know. We haven’t seen you for months.”

If he only knew what I’d discovered in those shipping manifests. What Isabella and I were slowly uncovering, piece by careful piece. But I couldn’t tell them, not yet. Not until I knew more.

“Just lots going on.”

Cooper raised an eyebrow, studying me over his wine glass. “London’s obviously been good for something besides work. You’ve been hitting the gym?”

“Five days a week,” I admitted. “Helps clear my head.”