Michael hadn't forced me to do anything yet, despite us being deep in his territory. If he tried, no one would help me. Except for Andrea. But even then, I wasn’t sure how she’d fare against three excessively well-trained, lethal men. Still, I knew she would die trying to protect me.

But it hadn’t come to that. He kept his distance. By the time he came to the room last night, I was already asleep.

I could get used to this life. It was peaceful and quiet so far, and most importantly, my sister was here with me. But I didn't want him to remain a complete stranger either. I wanted to know him, to touch him, to kiss him. And part of me longed to be closer, to let him hold me. But he was already holding back so much. Would he truly allow me to set the pace?

Men in our world thrived on control. It wasn’t just something they liked—it was something they needed, a force that defined them. Control over business, over rivals, over everything. They even craved it in their relationships—over their wives, children, and every minor aspect of their lives.

When I woke up this morning, Michael was still beside me. His dark hair was a disheveled mess, and it called out to me to brush it off his face. I resisted the urge, knowing it would wake him. Even in his sleep, his expression remained stoic, almost unnervingly calm, yet a subtle softness lingered in his features. The tension I often saw etched into his brow had smoothed away, revealing a more relaxed version of the man I had come to know. His lips, usually firm and severe, now looked soft—almost inviting. The thought of kissing him flitted through my mind, making me shake my head to dispel the fantasy.

I slipped out of bed quietly, determined not to let my thoughts stray again. After getting dressed, I headed downstairs.

Andrea was already in the kitchen, making coffee. She tensed the moment I sat on the counter. It was strange—Andrea was usually on guard, but not this jumpy. Had something happened? She relaxed almost immediately when she realized it was just me.

“Christina,” she exhaled, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The frustration and regret on her face broke through her usually composed mask. “I screwed up!” she whispered, voice low as if afraid someone might overhear.

My chest tightened with worry. “What happened? Did Raffaele hurt you?” Michael might be treating me well, but that didn’t mean his brother would extend the same courtesy to Andrea. Raffaele, the heir apparent, was raised to be ruthless, without room for softness.

Despite how I was slowly settling into this life, I would run away in an instant if Andrea was in trouble. I loved her too much to be selfish.

“No, no,” she scoffed, waving off my concern. “Like I’d ever let him. I’m not that defenseless girl anymore. If he tried anything, I’d make him regret it tenfold.” She gave a tight smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Then what happened?” I pressed gently, wanting to get to the bottom of whatever had her so rattled.

“Last night, I went to the gym to train at my usual time. I was so focused on the punching bag—throwing kicks, jabs, everything—that I didn’t even notice Raffaele and Michael walking in until they were right there.” Her shoulders tightened as she spoke, agitation growing with each word.

I let out a sigh of relief, hoping it wasn’t something worse.

“Andrea, that’s fine,” I assured her. “You can always tell them you took self-defense classes. It’s not a lie.”

“That’s not the worst part,” she murmured, breaking eye contact and looking away, guilt shadowing her features. “I was so startled when they entered that my body acted on reflex before I could stop it, and—” She paused, almost cringing at her own words. “I may have...thrown a knife at them.”

My heart stopped. Oh no.

“Andrea!” I gasped, horror washing over me. “What happened after that? What did they do?”

She shrugged, though the movement was stiff. “I left the gym before they could say anything. But of course, Raffaele came and found me later. He saw right through my act of pretending to be asleep and asked me how I learned to throw knives with such precision. I lied, told him it was just a reflex.” She took a deep breath, her agitation bleeding through every word. “He warned me that if I ever planned to harm his brothers, he’d make me pay. As if I’d ever do something like that! It’s absurd.”

I bit my lip, worry gnawing at me. “Andrea, have you considered telling him the truth? He could protect you.”

Her gaze hardened immediately, and she shook her head. “No. It took me years to even trust you with everything. I can’t—” Her voice caught, and she swallowed, face going blank once more, the perfect mask of indifference slipping back into place.

I followed her gaze and saw Michael standing at the entrance of the kitchen, clad only in trousers, his damp hair glistening slightly. His eyes roamed over me, lingering long enough to make my skin tingle. Glancing down, I realized my skirt had ridden up, leaving my legs exposed. I blushed furiously, jumping off the counter and tugging it back into place.

A flash of amusement glinted in his eyes, and I caught Andrea smirking behind her coffee mug. I silently vowed to start wearing shorts and a T-shirt like Andrea.

Trying to hide my embarrassment, I turned away and busied myself with pouring coffee, avoiding looking at him altogether. I wasn’t even a fan of coffee—Andrea always made it too strong—but at that moment, I needed the distraction.