Chapter 39 #2
Soft at first. Then desperate. Like she's trying to say everything she can't put into words.
When we finally break apart, she's crying.
"I love you too," she whispers. "Even though you infuriate me. Even though you make decisions without asking. Even though your world is violent and dangerous and everything I should run from."
"But you're not running."
"No, we're both done running."
I kiss her again. Slower this time. Taking my time. Making promises with my mouth that I'll spend the rest of my life keeping.
When we finally go inside, I put the watch back in my pocket.
But I don't hide it away anymore. Don't shove it to the bottom of a drawer and try to forget it exists.
Because she's right.
Time is all we have. Every second. Every heartbeat. Every moment we choose to live instead of just survive.
And I'm going to spend mine loving her.
Two hours later, I leave Bianca at home with Marco and three other guards stationed around the property. She argues—of course she argues—but I silence her with a kiss and a promise that I'll be back before midnight.
"Where are you going?" she asks.
"To handle the problem."
"Dante—"
"Trust me." I cup her face. "I'll take care of this. All of it."
She searches my eyes for a long moment. Then nods.
Good girl.
The meeting takes place in a warehouse I own near the docks. Neutral enough for the Bellandis to agree, controlled enough that I dictate terms.
The uncle—Carlo Bellandi, Massimo's younger brother—arrives with two soldiers. Both armed and watching me like I might pull a weapon at any second.
They're not wrong to be careful.
I bring Enzo and Rafe. Both stand behind me, silent and lethal. A reminder that I don't come alone and touching me means war with Matteo's entire family.
Carlo sits across from me at a metal table. He's in his fifties, hair slicked back, expensive suit that screams old money. His eyes are cold. Calculating. The kind of man who sees people as assets or obstacles.
"Mr. Vitale." He lights a cigar without asking permission. "Thank you for agreeing to meet."
"Let's skip the pleasantries, Carlo. You know why we're here."
"Your woman." He blows smoke toward the ceiling. "The former escort. The one my niece has been so concerned about."
I don't react and give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.
"I'm here to lay down terms. Caterina stops her campaign against Bianca. No more gossip items, no more former clients showing up at restaurants, no more harassment of any kind."
"And in exchange?"
"I don't destroy your niece's reputation the way she's trying to destroy my woman's."
Carlo leans back. "That sounds like a threat."
"It's a promise. I have information on Caterina. Sealed court records. Affairs with married men. Financial irregularities that would interest the IRS. I've been building a file for days." I slide a folder across the table. "This is a sample. There's more where that came from."
He doesn't open it. Just stares at me with those dead eyes.
"You're bluffing."
"Try me."
Silence stretches between us. Then he laughs. Actually laughs.
"You think you can threaten a Bellandi? You think we're afraid of some capo who's so weak he'd follow his feelings and marry a whore to avoid an alliance that would benefit everyone?"
The insult hangs in the air.
Enzo shifts behind me, which is a warning for Carlos, and we both know it.
"Choose your next words carefully," I say quietly.
"Why? What are you going to do?" Carlo leans forward. "You want to know what I think? I think Caterina is right. I think you're desperate. I think you latched onto the first woman who spread her legs for you and convinced yourself it's love. But it's not. It's weakness."
"Last chance, Carlo."
"And I think—" He blows smoke in my face. "—that woman of yours is a commodity. Something to be bought and sold. That's all she'll ever be. A whore playing dress-up in a capo's house."
The room shifts.
I feel it like a change in air pressure. The moment negotiation becomes something else.
"You had your chance," I say.
Then I move.
Fast. Before his guards can react.
I grab Carlo by his collar, slam him face-first into the table. His cigar goes flying. Blood sprays from his nose.
His guards reach for their weapons but Enzo and Rafe are faster. Two clean shots. Not fatal—we don't want war yet—but incapacitating. Both men go down clutching shoulders.
Carlo struggles. I hold him down with one hand, use the other to grab his left arm. Twist it at an unnatural angle.
"You want to call her a commodity?" I wrench his arm higher. "You want to insult her? Threaten her? Act like she's something you can bargain over?"
"You're insane—"
I pull. Not enough to dislocate but enough to make him scream like a girl.
"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell me everything. Every detail of Caterina's plan. Every piece of evidence she has. Every person she's talked to. Every move she's planning to make."
"Go to hell—"
I twist harder. The sound he makes is inhuman.
"Or I can break this arm in three places and move on to the other one. Your choice."
"She has photos!" he gasps out. "From Bianca's escort days. Client lists. Receipts. Everything."
"Where?"
"Safe deposit box. Chase Bank on Fifth Avenue."
"The key?"
"Caterina has it."
"Where does she keep it?"
"I don't know—I swear I don't know!"
I apply more pressure. He screams again.
"Her apartment!" The words come out strangled. "Bedroom safe. Behind a painting of Venice. Combination is her mother's birthday—zero-eight-two-three-nineteen-sixty-seven."
Better.
"What else?"
"She's planning to release everything next week. Before your father's gala. Maximum impact. Maximum humiliation."
"Who else knows?"
"Just family. Massimo doesn't approve—he thinks it's reckless—but Caterina doesn't care. She wants you ruined."
I release his arm. He collapses forward, gasping.
"Here's the message you're going to take back to your family." I grab his hair, force him to look at me. "Bianca is mine. Anyone who touches her, threatens her, or speaks about her the way you just did answers to me. And I don't negotiate. I don't forgive. I end things."
"You're making a mistake—"
"No." I let him go. "You made the mistake. You came here thinking you could intimidate me with insults and leverage. But you forgot something important."
"What?"
"I'm not afraid of war. I'm not afraid of losing my position.
I'm not afraid of your family or your connections or your power.
" I lean down until we're eye level. "Because the woman you just called a whore is worth more than everything you have combined.
And I'll burn your entire family to ash before I let you hurt her. "
I stand and nod to Enzo and Rafe.
"Break his left hand. Two fingers. Clean breaks." We usually don’t give orders to one another, but I know that if I try to do it, I might not be able to stop and kill the bastard. Rafe goes to business quickly.
Carlo tries to scramble away. Doesn't make it far.
The sound of bones cracking echoes through the warehouse.
When we leave, he's on the floor. Conscious. In pain. But alive.
The message will reach Massimo by morning. And when it does, he'll have a choice: control his daughter or watch his family bleed.
When we get in the car I pull out my phone and text Luca.
Emergency. I need a team at Chase Bank on Fifth. Safe deposit box under Caterina Bellandi's name. Tell the men to get that key in the safe behind the Venice painting in her room and everything in the box tonight.
And find out where she keeps her spare. We're taking everything. I am sending the combination to open the safe.
The response comes immediately: Consider it done.
I lean back against the seat and close my eyes.
The violence doesn't bother me anymore. Used to, when I was younger. When I thought there was a difference between monsters and men.
Now I know better.
We're all monsters. The only question is what we're willing to be monstrous for.
And for Bianca?
I'll be the worst monster this city has ever seen.