Matteo Conti.

He stood with arms folded, sharp in his tailored black suit, his eyes sweeping the corridor like he was guarding a war zone. Always alert. Always steady. When he looked up at her, the usual steel in his expression softened for a heartbeat.

"Princess," he greeted, a small smile curving the corner of his mouth. "You're looking strong tonight—like a true donna. Now tell me, where are the two weapons I require you to carry?"

Arabella slid the slit in the full skirt of her gown to the side just enough to reveal the sleek outline of a pistol strapped to her thigh.

"The only places I could hide them in this gown," she said smoothly.