Chapter 35
Dante
T he room was still, the kind of quiet that only existed in the early morning hours when the world hadn’t quite woken up yet. The faint hum of the city filtered in through the windows, but it was distant, muted, like background noise to the symphony playing in my mind.
She was asleep beside me, her body curled into the sheets, her hair spilling across the pillow like a dark halo. The soft rise and fall of her chest was hypnotic, a rhythm that seemed to steady the chaos constantly churning inside me. I leaned back against the headboard, my arm draped over my knee as I watched her, the faint glow of dawn casting her in shades of gold and shadow.
How the hell had this happened?
I didn’t mean the mechanics of it—I knew exactly how we’d ended up here. Her lips, her hands, the way she’d looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. No, what I didn’t understand was how she’d gotten under my skin so completely, how she’d managed to tear down walls I’d spent years building without even trying.
It had been a slow drip at first. A glance here, a sharp retort there. Little moments that I’d brushed off as nothing more than passing interest. But then the drip became a trickle, and the trickle became a flood, and now...now I was drowning in her, and I didn’t want to come up for air.
I rubbed a hand over my face, exhaling quietly. I should’ve walked away from her weeks ago. Hell, I should’ve walked away the moment I realized she wasn’t just another spoiled mafia princess. But I hadn’t. And now, as I sat here watching her sleep, I knew I never would.
She shifted slightly, her lips parting as she let out a soft sigh, and my chest tightened. How could someone be so goddamn beautiful without even trying? It wasn’t just her looks—though, Christ, those were enough to drive a man insane—it was everything about her. The fire in her eyes, the way she stood up to me even when she was scared, the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide but couldn’t quite mask.
And then there was last night.
The memory of her beneath me, her body moving against my tongue, desperate for more—it was burned into my mind, a brand I’d carry with me for the rest of my life. She’d trusted me, given herself to me, and I’d be damned if I ever let anyone hurt her again.
The thought of Romero made my blood boil. My jaw tightened as I replayed the events of the night before, the way I’d found her in that room, covered in blood, her eyes wide with shock. She’d been so brave, so strong, but I could see the cracks beneath the surface. She’d killed to protect herself, and while I was proud of her for surviving, the thought of her being put in that position in the first place made me want to burn the world down.
It wouldn’t happen again. Not on my watch.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, careful not to disturb her as I stood. Padding quietly to the kitchen, I set about making coffee, the familiar routine grounding me in a way I desperately needed. The rich aroma filled the air as I cracked a few eggs into a pan, the sizzle of butter against the heat a soothing counterpoint to the storm in my chest.
I was plating the food when my phone buzzed on the counter. I glanced at the screen and groaned. Luca. Of course.
“What?” I answered, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder as I poured coffee into two mugs.
“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Luca drawled, his tone laced with amusement. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”
“I’m making breakfast,” I said, setting the mugs on the counter.
There was a beat of silence, followed by a bark of laughter. “You’re making breakfast? Jesus, Dante, what’s next? Aprons and baking cookies?”
“Fuck off, Luca,” I muttered, though I could feel the corners of my mouth twitching despite myself.
“Oh, this is rich,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Dante Conti, the housewife. Should I get you a cookbook for Christmas? Maybe a subscription to Better Homes and Gardens?”
“Are you done?” I asked, my voice dry as I leaned against the counter.
“Not even close,” he said, still laughing. “But I’ll spare you for now. Hows the don's daughter doing?"
I glanced toward the bedroom, where Emilia was still sleeping, the sheets tangled around her like a cocoon. The sight of her there, so peaceful and vulnerable, made something in my chest tighten. I didn’t deserve this. Her. But I’d be damned if I let anyone take her away from me.
“She’s fine,” I said finally, my tone clipped. “Sleeping.”
Luca let out a low whistle. “Sleeping, huh? So, what, you’re making her breakfast now? Eggs and toast for the princess? Maybe some fresh-squeezed orange juice?”
“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” I muttered, grabbing the plates and heading toward the bedroom.
“It’s a gift,” Luca said cheerfully. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to playing house. Lunch at noon, drop the girl home and meet Rafe and I.”
I hung up with a committal noise before he could say anything else, shaking my head as I pushed the door open with my shoulder. Emilia was still asleep, her dark lashes fanned out against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted. She looked so peaceful, so utterly unlike the fierce, defiant woman I’d come to know—and fall for.
I set the plates down on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed, watching her for a moment. The sunlight streaming through the windows cast a soft glow over her skin, and I felt that familiar ache in my chest again. She stirred slightly, her brow furrowing as she blinked up at me, her eyes still heavy with sleep.
“Morning,” I said softly, my voice rougher than I intended.
She blinked again, her gaze focusing on me, and then on the plates of food beside me. “You made breakfast?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I said, smirking as I handed her a plate. “I’m full of hidden talents.”
She sat up slowly, pulling the sheet around her as she took the plate. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice still laced with sleep. “This looks amazing.”
I shrugged, trying to play it off, but the warmth in her eyes made my chest tighten. “Figured you could use a good meal after...everything.”
Her expression softened, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. She reached out, her fingers brushing against mine, and the simple gesture sent a jolt through me.
Her touch was light, hesitant, but it grounded me in a way I hadn’t expected. It was a reminder that she was here, with me, despite everything. I turned my hand over, letting our fingers intertwine, and for a moment, the weight of the world lifted.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to the plate of eggs and toast in her lap. “But...thank you.”
I studied her for a moment, the way her hair fell in messy waves around her face, the faint shadows under her eyes that spoke of the night she’d had.
“I wanted to,” I said simply, my voice low. “You’ve been through enough. The least I can do is make sure you eat.”
I watched her for a moment longer, the way she sat there with her plate perched on her lap, her legs tucked under the sheets, looking at me like I’d just handed her the world. It did something to me—something I couldn’t quite put into words. She had no idea how much power she had over me, how much I wanted to keep her here, safe, always.
“The Romero issue is handled,” I said finally, my voice steady but firm. “There won’t be any fallout, not that there should be. I’ve made sure of that.”
She paused mid-bite, her gaze snapping to mine. I could see the flicker of unease in her eyes, the way her fingers tightened slightly around the fork. “What do you mean, ‘handled’?” she asked carefully.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I met her gaze. “It’s done, Emilia. You don’t need to worry about it. No one’s coming for you. No one’s going to question what happened. As far as the world is concerned, Romero made a mistake and paid the price for it.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. She just stared at me, her brow furrowed as if she was trying to process what I’d said. I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was holding herself so tightly, like she was afraid to let go.
“I’ll handle the rest,” I continued, my tone softening. “That’s not something you need to carry. You did what you had to do to survive, and now it’s my job to make sure there’s nothing left for you to deal with.”
She set the plate aside, her appetite clearly forgotten, and wrapped her arms around her knees. “And what about...everyone else? My father? Won’t they—”
“They won’t,” I cut in firmly. “Your father doesn’t need to know the details. Trust me, Emilia. This is over.”
She nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to her hands. “It just...it doesn’t feel over,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “It feels like it’s just beginning.”
I reached out, my fingers brushing against hers, and she looked up at me, her eyes wide and searching. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” I said, my voice low but resolute. “You’re safe with me, Emilia. Always. ”
Her lips trembled slightly, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. But then she took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders as she gave me a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Dante.”
I nodded, my thumb brushing over her knuckles before I pulled my hand away. “I hate to cut this short,” I said reluctantly, “but I have business to attend to. I’ll have to drop you home.”
Her smile faltered slightly, but she nodded in understanding. “Of course. I get it.”
I stood, grabbing my own plate and hers as I headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll see you sooner than later,” I promised over my shoulder, my voice firm. “Count on it.”
The drive to her house was quieter than I would’ve liked. She sat in the passenger seat, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her gaze fixed on the window as the city blurred past. I wanted to say something, to fill the silence with words that would make her feel better, but I didn’t know where to start. So I let the quiet stretch between us, the hum of the engine the only sound.
When we finally pulled up to the Ricci estate, I turned to her, my hand resting on the gearshift. “Stay out of trouble,” I said, my tone lighter than I felt.
She turned to me, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll try.”
“Emilia,” I said, my voice softening, “I mean it.”
Her smile faded, replaced by something more serious. “I know. And I’ll be careful. I promise.”
She leaned over, her lips brushing against my cheek in a gesture so fleeting I almost thought I’d imagined it. And then she was gone, the door closing behind her as she disappeared into the house.
I met Luca and Rafe at a small café downtown, the kind of place where the coffee was strong and the conversations were private. They was already there when I arrived, lounging in a corner booth, each with a drinkin one hand and their phones in the other .
“Look who decided to show up,” Luca said, smirking as I slid into the seat across from him. “How’s the housewife life treating you?”
I shot Luca a glare, but he just grinned, clearly enjoying himself. Rafe, seated next to him, was already nursing a cappuccino, his legs stretched out under the table like he didn’t have a care in the world. I ignored both of them for a moment, signaling the waitress for an espresso before leaning back in my seat.
“Still not funny,” I said flatly, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Oh, come on,” Luca said, his grin widening. “You’re making breakfast, driving her home, looking at her like she hung the damn moon. I’m just saying, it’s a good look on you, brother. Domesticity suits you.”
“Domesticity,” I repeated, my tone dry. “Right. Because that’s what this is.”
Rafe snorted, his gaze flicking between the two of us. “He’s not wrong, you know. You’re acting...different.”
“Different how?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Less like a cold, calculating bastard and more like a man who’s completely whipped,” Luca said, taking a sip of his espresso. “It’s refreshing, really. Almost endearing.”
I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to throw my newly arrived espresso in his face. “I’m not whipped.”
“Sure you’re not,” Rafe said, smirking. “So, what’s the plan then? You gonna keep playing house with the Ricci girl, or are you actually going to make this official?”
I froze, the question hitting harder than I expected. I hadn’t told them yet—hadn’t told anyone, really—but the thought had been circling in my mind since last night. Watching her sleep, holding her in my arms, I’d realized something I couldn’t ignore. Emilia wasn’t just a distraction or a fleeting obsession. She was it. The one. And if I wanted to keep her, to protect her, I needed to make it official.
“I’m working on it,” I said finally, my voice low .
Luca raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Working on it? What does that mean?”
“It means I’m going to talk to her father,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “Make a proposal. A formal one.”
Rafe let out a low whistle, his smirk fading into something more serious. “You’re not messing around, are you?”
“No,” I said simply. “I’m not.”
Luca studied me for a moment, his usual smirk replaced by something closer to genuine curiosity. “You really care about her, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer right away, my gaze dropping to the table. “She’s...different,” I admitted, my voice quieter now. “She makes me feel like I’m not just...this.” I gestured vaguely, encompassing the weight of our world—the violence, the power, the endless cycle of control and destruction. “She makes me want something more.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Rafe took another slow sip of his cappuccino, his expression unreadable, while Luca leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Well,” Luca said finally, his tone lighter, “if anyone can handle you, it’s probably her. God knows the rest of us are sick of your shit.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said dryly, though I couldn’t help the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of my mouth.
“Don’t mention it,” Luca said, his grin returning. “Now, speaking of handling things, there’s something we need to talk about.”
I frowned, my smirk fading. “What?”
“Funny you asked about your ex the other day,” Luca said, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. “Because I decided to call her.”
I stared at him, my jaw tightening. “You what?”
“Relax,” he said, holding up a hand. “It’s not what you think. I didn’t call her for old time’s sake. I called her because I had a hunch.”
“A hunch,” I repeated, my tone flat. “About what?”
“About the missing money,” Luca said, his expression turning serious. “And guess what? She might know something.”
I let out a sharp exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Of course she does. Because why wouldn’t Valentina be involved in this mess?”
“She’s not involved,” Luca said quickly. “At least, not directly. But she’s got connections—connections that might lead us to whoever’s skimming off the top.”
“And?” I prompted, my patience wearing thin.
“And,” Luca said, leaning forward, “she’s already in town. So I set up a meeting.”
I stared at him, my jaw tightening to the point of pain. “You did what?”
“Set up a meeting,” Luca repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His tone was maddeningly calm, like he hadn’t just invited a hurricane into our already sinking ship. “She’s already in town, Dante. It would’ve been rude not to.”
Rude. He was worried about being rude?
Rafe chuckled, clearly enjoying the show. “Oh, this is going to be good,” he muttered, his grin widening as he leaned back in his chair. “Valentina and Dante, round two. I’ll bring popcorn.”
“This isn’t a joke,” I snapped, my glare darting between both of them. “You had no right to involve her.”
Luca raised an eyebrow, his expression unbothered. “You asked me to dig into the missing money. I’m digging. If Valentina has information, then we need her.”
“She’s not exactly known for her loyalty,” I said, my voice low and sharp. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Don’t worry,” Luca said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll bring a fire extinguisher.”
I clenched my fists under the table, my patience wearing dangerously thin. “When is this meeting?”
“Tomorrow,” Luca said, his tone still infuriatingly casual. “At the club. Neutral ground.”
“Of course,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “Because nothing says ‘professional’ like discussing financial fraud in a nightclub.”
Rafe snorted, shaking his head. “You’re just mad because you’ll have to see her again. What’s the matter, brother? Afraid she’ll still have that hold over you?”
“She doesn’t,” I said sharply, my tone leaving no room for argument.
“Sure,” Rafe said, smirking. “Whatever you say.”
I ignored him, my mind already racing through the implications of Valentina’s involvement. If she had information about the missing money, that meant she was either closer to the Russians than I’d thought, or she was playing some angle I hadn’t seen coming. Either way, it complicated things. And complications were the last thing I needed right now.
Luca leaned forward, his expression turning serious for the first time since I’d arrived. “Look, I get it. She’s not exactly your favorite person. But if she knows something, we can’t afford to ignore it. This isn’t just about the money, Dante. It’s about control. If someone’s stealing from us, they’re testing our strength. And if we don’t handle it, we’re going to look weak.”
He wasn’t wrong. As much as I hated to admit it, Luca had a point. The missing money wasn’t just an inconvenience—it was a threat. A challenge. And in our world, challenges had to be met head-on.
“Fine,” I said finally, my voice tight. “I’ll be there. But if she tries anything—anything—I’m shutting it down.”
“Understood,” Luca said, nodding.
Rafe raised his cappuccino in a mock toast. “Here’s to a reunion for the ages.”
I shot him a withering look, but he just grinned, clearly enjoying himself far too much.
The waitress returned with a fresh pot of coffee, and I took the opportunity to refocus, pouring myself a cup and letting the familiar bitterness ground me. The conversation shifted to other matters—logistics, shipments, the forensic accountant’s progress—but my mind kept drifting back to Valentina.
She was a wildcard, a storm I thought I’d weathered years ago. But now, she was back, and whether I liked it or not, she was tied to this mess.
And then there was Emilia.
The thought of her made my chest tighten, a mix of protectiveness and something deeper, something I wasn’t ready to name. She’d been through enough already, and the last thing I wanted was to drag her into the chaos that seemed to follow me everywhere. But I knew better than anyone that our world didn’t care about intentions. It cared about leverage. And Emilia, whether she realized it or not, was mine.
Which meant she was a target.
I’d have to tread carefully. Keep her safe without suffocating her. Protect her without making her feel like a prisoner. It was a delicate balance, one I wasn’t sure I was capable of maintaining. But for her, I’d try.
“Dante,” Luca said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You with us?”
“Yeah,” I said, setting my coffee down. “I’m here.”
“Good,” Luca said, his tone brisk. “Because the forensic accountant’s report should be ready in a few days, and we need to be prepared for whatever it shows. If this leak is coming from inside, it’s not just about the money—it’s about trust. And someone’s about to lose theirs.”
I nodded, my jaw tightening. Trust. That word carried more weight in our world than most people could understand. It wasn’t just about loyalty; it was about survival. If someone was stealing from us, they weren’t just taking money—they were testing the boundaries of our power. And boundaries had to be enforced .
Rafe leaned back in his chair, his expression more serious now. “I’ve got Matteo keeping an eye on the mid-level guys. If someone’s getting sloppy, he’ll catch it. But if this is coming from higher up…” His voice trailed off, but the implication was clear.
If it was coming from higher up, it meant someone we trusted—someone we’d let into the inner circle—was betraying us. And that kind of betrayal didn’t just end with an apology. It ended with blood.
“We’ll handle it,” I said firmly, my voice leaving no room for doubt. “Whoever it is, they’ll regret it.”
Luca nodded, satisfied, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—concern, maybe, or caution. “And Valentina?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral. “What’s your plan there?”
I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. “I’ll talk to her. See what she knows. But I’m not letting her pull any of her usual games. If she’s involved in this—”
“You’ll handle it,” Luca finished for me, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Of course you will. You always do.”
Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “I’d pay good money to see that conversation. Valentina and Dante, back in the ring. My money’s on her, by the way.”
“Funny,” I said dryly, though my patience was wearing thin. “You’re hilarious.”
“Don’t let her get under your skin,” Luca warned, his tone serious again. “She’s good at that. Too good.”
“She won’t,” I said, my voice hard. “Not this time.”
But even as I said the words, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of my mind—the memory of Valentina’s sharp smile, her calculating eyes, the way she always seemed to know exactly where to press to make the cracks widen. She was a master manipulator, and I’d been foolish enough to fall for it once.
Not again.
The waitress returned to clear our cups, and Luca glanced at his watch, his expression turning brisk. “I’ve got a meeting in twenty. Rafe, you coming?”
Rafe shrugged, finishing the last of his cappuccino. “Might as well. Someone’s gotta keep you from screwing it up.”
Luca rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, and the two of them stood, leaving a few bills on the table as they headed for the door. I stayed behind, my fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table as I stared into the dregs of my coffee.
Valentina. The missing money. The Russians. It was all connected, I was sure of it. But the pieces weren’t fitting together yet, and that gnawed at me. I didn’t like puzzles I couldn’t solve. And I sure as hell didn’t like the idea of Valentina holding a piece of this one.
With a sigh, I stood, pulling on my jacket as I left the café. The cool air hit me as I stepped outside, cutting through the lingering haze of coffee and tension. My car was parked a block away, and I walked toward it with purpose, my mind already turning over the next steps.
But as I slid into the driver’s seat, my thoughts shifted—away from Valentina, away from the missing money, and back to Emilia.
Her smile. Her laugh. The way she’d looked at me this morning, her eyes soft with gratitude as she ate the breakfast I’d made for her. It was a simple moment, but it had hit me harder than I cared to admit. She didn’t belong in this world—didn’t belong in the chaos and violence that defined my life. But I couldn’t let her go. I wouldn’t.
She was mine now. And I’d do whatever it took to keep her safe.
Even if it meant tearing down the world to do it.