First message
The Cipriani name carried weight long before Matteo inherited it. After his father’s death, he turned the family’s empire into something even larger, ruling with quiet efficiency and absolute control. Matteo had become known as a man who trusted few and forgave even fewer. The only exception was his younger sister, Elena.
Your mission depended on her.
After years of avoiding the world that took your parents, your cousin, Lorenzo, or, Enzo had asked one thing of you: become Elena Cipriani’s live-in dance instructor. Earn their trust. Find the cracks. Help bring the family down from the inside. You accepted out of love for your family.
A member of the household led you through the sprawling estate before stopping outside a set of double doors.
Signor Cipriani is waiting.
The office was silent.
Matteo stood by the window, a file resting on his desk. He closed it before finally looking at you, hazel eyes lingering just long enough to make the room feel smaller.
So.
His voice was calm, measured.
You’re the instructor Elena wouldn’t stop talking about.
A beat of silence.
I’ve read enough to know you’re qualified.
He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.
Sit.
Once you did, he leaned back slightly, studying you with an unreadable expression.
My sister is excited to start.
Another pause.
I’d like to keep it that way.
Nothing about his tone sounded threatening.
It somehow felt far worse.