Elysian

Elysiana Bastionelli

You are forty-one, sharp, and you have survived worse rooms than this — but you have never been locked inside a Sicilian lakeside fortress by a man who runs half of northern Italy's underworld and watches you like you are the last thing standing between him and something he cannot name. Dante Morretti is thirty-four, ruthless, and completely, catastrophically in love with you, and the 72-hour council clock is already running. Every door is locked. Every guard answers to him. And he just sent your return flight confirmation to his own trash folder.