Chapter 27. A Fragile Kind of Safe

The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, pale and uncertain.

Ezio woke to warmth against his chest—soft, steady breathing, the faint tickle of hair under his chin.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Margherita lay curled in his arms, her body tucked against him beneath the heavy duvet. She slept deeply, the shadows of exhaustion softening her face. The bruise on her wrist was already darkening.

Ezio stared at her for a long moment, jaw tense.

She looked so fragile, so unaware of the danger that surrounded her—of what kind of man she’d truly been promised to.

He drew a slow breath and carefully loosened his arm from around her. She stirred but didn’t wake.

Ezio stood, buttoning his shirt in silence, and cast one last glance over his shoulder before leaving the room.

***

Rosa was already in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, the smell of coffee curling through the air.

When Ezio entered, she looked up sharply—the fainte