Bella's expression changed. The warmth in her eyes cooled, replaced by worry. She turned in her chair to face him, her hands resting on his forearms, her fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket.
"Can we not go?" she asked, her voice soft but urgent. "I don't feel good about this. We know he's planning something. We know he's setting some kind of trap. Why are we walking into his den willingly?"
Leo looked at her. Her brown eyes were troubled, her brow furrowed. He understood her fear. He felt it too. Every instinct screamed at him to keep her away from Nicolas, to protect her from whatever schemes were being woven in that grand, pretentious house.
But some things couldn't be avoided.
