Elena Brooks woke to the feeling of a heavy arm locked around her waist.

For three full seconds, she remained perfectly still.

The room was cold. The bed was warm.

Too warm.

A charcoal-gray blanket covered her to the shoulders, and behind her, someone breathed slowly against the back of her neck.

Elena's eyes opened.

The first thing she saw was a black wolf tattoo stretched across a muscular forearm.

The second was the scar running from the man's wrist toward his elbow.

The third was the platinum watch resting against his skin.

Her stomach dropped.

She knew that tattoo.

Everyone in Boston's private-event world knew that tattoo.

Adrian Moretti.

The man politicians avoided naming publicly. The man whose businesses seemed to multiply whenever someone tried to count them. The man powerful families invited to dinner while privately hoping he would never accept.

Boston had plenty of dangerous men.

Adrian Moretti was the one other dangerous men listened to.

Elena slowly turned her head.

Pale gray eyes were already watching her.

Adrian looked completely awake.

He was also shirtless.

Elena looked down.

She was wearing a black shirt that was much too large for her.

His shirt.

She closed her eyes.

No.

No, no, no.

This was not happening.

Her last clear memory was standing in the west wing of the Belladonna estate at nearly two in the morning, carrying a stack of replacement linens while her manager shouted into a phone about the floral arrangements.

She had been coordinating the most expensive private event she had ever worked.

Fourteen hours had become sixteen.

Sixteen had become eighteen.

Her feet had been bleeding inside her shoes.

She had found an empty bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed for what she thought would be five minutes, and apparently fallen asleep.

She had not known it was Adrian Moretti's bedroom.

She certainly had not planned to wake up in his bed.

And she had no idea why he had gotten into it with her.

"I can explain," she whispered.

Adrian's eyebrow lifted.

"I sincerely hope so."

Elena tried to move.

His arm tightened instinctively.

"Don't."

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

"Don't what?"

"Move too quickly."

"I'm trying to get out of your bed."

"I know."

"Then let go."

He studied her for a moment before releasing her.

Elena immediately scrambled toward the edge.

Then something struck the bedroom door.

Hard.

Adrian changed.

The sleepy amusement disappeared from his face.

His entire body went still.

His hand moved toward the nightstand.

Elena froze.

Another impact shook the doors.

Then voices sounded in the hallway.

Adrian rose from the bed.

"Stay here."

"I'm not staying anywhere."

He looked at her.

"Elena."

She stopped.

She didn't know how he knew her name.

Then the doors opened.

An elegant older woman entered with a silver cane in one hand.

Two armed guards followed her.

Her gaze moved from Adrian to Elena.

Then to the black shirt Elena was wearing.

The woman smiled.

"So," she said softly. "This is the woman."

Elena's mouth went dry.

"What woman?"

Adrian's jaw tightened.

Before anyone could answer, another guard appeared in the doorway, pale and breathless.

"Boss."

Adrian turned.

"They know she's here."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

"Who?" Adrian asked.

"Rinaldi's men. They're downstairs."

The older woman's expression hardened.

Elena looked from one face to another.

"Who is Rinaldi?"

Nobody answered.

Adrian reached for her hand.

Elena stared at his fingers around hers.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you stay alive."

"I'm beginning to think I should have taken the five-minute nap."

His mouth almost curved.

Almost.

Then he looked toward his guards.

"Tell everyone Elena Brooks is my fiancée."

Elena stared at him.

"What?"

The older woman blinked.

One of the guards looked genuinely shocked.

Adrian's expression remained calm.

"Did I stutter?"

Elena pulled her hand away.

"You cannot just announce that I'm your fiancée."

"I just did."

"I don't even know you."

"That makes two of us."

"Then why would you do this?"

Adrian looked toward the hallway.

"Because if they believe you're important to me, they won't touch you without thinking twice."

Elena's anger faltered.

"You're using me."

"Yes."

The bluntness startled her.

"But I'm also protecting you."

She stared at him.

"Those aren't the same thing."

"No."

His eyes hardened.

"They're not."

A gunshot sounded downstairs.

Elena flinched.

Adrian stepped between her and the door.

The guards moved instantly.

The elegant woman with the silver cane looked at Elena.

"Miss Brooks, if Adrian says you're his fiancée, you are his fiancée until this is over."

Elena swallowed.

"And if I say no?"

The woman smiled without warmth.

"Then I suggest you say it quietly."

Adrian looked at his grandmother.

"Nonna."

She shrugged.

"She has spirit."

Then she turned to Elena.

"That's going to be necessary."

Within minutes, Elena's name was spreading through the mansion.

She heard it whispered in the hallway.

Elena Brooks.

The fiancée.

Nobody knew her.

Yet everyone suddenly knew her name.

That was how Elena's old life ended.

Before sunrise, the Belladonna estate was surrounded by security.

The men downstairs were gone.

Three had been arrested.

Two had escaped.

And one had left behind a message.

A white envelope lay on Adrian's desk.

Inside was a photograph.

Elena standing outside her apartment.

Taken that morning.

On the back, written in black ink, were five words.

SHE DOESN'T BELONG TO YOU.

Elena stared at the photograph.

Her fingers went numb.

Adrian took it from her.

His expression changed.

For the first time since she had met him, he looked genuinely angry.

"Whoever took this knew where you lived."

"I know."

"Do you have family?"

Elena hesitated.

"My younger sister."

"Where?"

"Providence."

"Call her."

"I don't want to frighten her."

"You want her alive."

Elena looked at him.

There was no argument to make.

She called.

Her sister answered on the fourth ring.

Elena listened.

Then closed her eyes.

"She's safe."

Adrian nodded.

"Good."

Elena lowered the phone.

"Why me?"

He looked at her.

"I don't know."

"That's not good enough."

"I know."

"You dragged me into this."

"Yes."

"You lied about me."

"Yes."

"You turned my name into a target."

His silence lasted several seconds.

"Yes."

Elena's eyes flashed.

"And you're not even going to apologize?"

Adrian looked toward the window.

Rain streaked the glass.

"When I was seventeen, my father taught me something."

"I don't care what your father taught you."

"He told me never to apologize for keeping someone alive."

Elena went quiet.

Adrian continued.

"Later, I learned there are people who will mistake an apology for weakness."

She crossed her arms.

"And what did you learn about me?"

He looked at her.

"That you stayed."

She didn't understand.

"You could have run."

"I tried."

"You came back."

Elena glanced toward the door.

She had.

She could have walked away.

Instead, she had stayed.

Maybe because some part of her recognized the loneliness in his voice.

Maybe because she knew what it meant to have your life suddenly controlled by people who never asked what you wanted.

Or maybe she was simply tired of being afraid.

Whatever the reason, she remained.