Then closed just as softly behind them.
The outside world, with its watchful eyes and held breaths, was shut out in an instant, leaving a deeper, more private silence that felt even heavier.
Santiago crossed the room with measured steps, each one deliberate. He lowered Daniella onto the bed with unexpected care, adjusting her position against the pillows, drawing the covers up over her waist, and smoothing them down as though the events in the courtyard had never happened.
As though she had not struck him in front of his men.
As though she had not thrown herself from the balcony in reckless defiance.
As though she had not tested a boundary no one else had ever dared approach.
When he straightened, his gaze settled on her face, studying the stillness she maintained with almost theatrical precision. Her features were composed, lashes resting lightly against her cheeks, breathing even and calm.
Too calm.
Too controlled.
Too perfect.
