Chapter 6
6
EMILIA
T ears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them back. Not here. Not in front of him. Not in front of anyone. With a shaky breath, I turned and walked toward the door, my footsteps echoing through the suffocating silence. My brothers watched me go, their expressions a mix of anger and confusion, but none of them said a word. Even Tony, who had always been my fiercest protector, stayed silent, his jaw clenched as he gripped his gun.
The family room was only a few steps away, but it felt like miles. When I finally reached it, I slumped against the doorway, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. The muffled voices from the study carried through the walls, sharp and angry, but I couldn’t make out the words. Not that I wanted to. Whatever they were saying, it wouldn’t change the fact that I was trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
I sank onto the edge of the couch, my hands trembling as I pressed them to my face. My mind raced, replaying every moment of the past few weeks, searching for something—anything—that could explain how this had happened. How my specific code had been used. How the money had disappeared. How Dante could stand there, so calm and detached, while my entire world crumbled around me.
And then there was the memory of the wedding, of the last time I’d seen him before tonight. His words echoed in my mind, low and rough, filled with a pain he’d tried so hard to hide.
You matter more than anything else in my life. And that’s the fucking problem.
I had believed him. Even after everything, even after he’d walked away, I had believed him. Because how could someone say something like that and not mean it? How could someone look at me the way he had and not care? But now, sitting here with the weight of his accusations pressing down on me, I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and I shot to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest. For a brief, foolish moment, I thought it might be Dante, coming to tell me that it was all a mistake, that he’d figured out who was really behind the theft, that he was sorry for putting me through this.
But it wasn’t Dante.
It was Tony.
He stepped into the open area, and took a look around the room. His gun was still in his hand, but he didn’t raise it. Instead, he leaned against the wall, his dark eyes studying me with an intensity that made my stomach twist.
“Tony,” I said, my voice shaking. “You believe me, don’t you? You know I would never?—”
“Shh,” he said, holding up a hand to stop me. His expression was unreadable, his jaw tight as he crossed the room and sat down beside me. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze fixed on the floor as he turned the gun over in his hands.
“They’re not going to kill you,” he said finally, a small grin on his face, his voice low and steady. “Not tonight, at least.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I stared at him, my chest tightening with a mix of relief and terror. “What do you mean, ‘not tonight’?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Tony looked up at me then, his eyes hard and unyielding. “Come with me."
The air in my father’s study was thick with tension, suffocating and electric, as if the room itself was holding its breath. The muffled sounds of the men speaking in rapid-fire Italian blurred together, a cacophony of anger and negotiation that I couldn’t untangle. I sat frozen in the chair Dante had pulled out for me earlier, my hands gripping the edge of the seat so tightly that my knuckles had turned white.
My father stood behind his desk, his broad shoulders tense and his expression thunderous as he gestured wildly, his words sharp and cutting. My brothers flanked him, their hands resting on the grips of their guns, their postures stiff with barely restrained fury.
And then there was Dante.
He stood apart from the chaos, a looming figure of calm amidst the storm. His jacket was still draped over the back of a chair, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, corded forearms. He leaned casually against the edge of the desk, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my stomach twist. He hadn’t spoken since the shouting began, hadn’t so much as flinched at the accusations and threats being hurled around the room.
He didn’t need to.
Dante Conti didn’t shout. He didn’t need to raise his voice to command attention, to assert his dominance. His silence was louder than any of the arguments being thrown around, a reminder that he held all the power here.
And I hated him for it.
I hated the way he watched me, his gaze unrelenting and predatory, as if he were waiting for me to break. I hated the way he had turned my life upside down, the way he had walked into this house and taken control of everything without so much as a second thought.
But most of all, I hated the way a part of me—small and buried deep—still wanted him.
That thought alone made my chest tighten, my breath hitching as I forced myself to look away from him. My eyes landed on the polished surface of my father’s desk, the scattered papers and ledgers a stark reminder of the accusations that had been leveled against me.
My code. My shifts. My access.
The evidence was damning, and no matter how many times I repeated the truth—that I hadn’t stolen anything—it didn’t seem to matter. Not to Dante. Not to my father. Not to anyone.
“Emilia.”
His voice cut through the noise like a blade, low and commanding, and I felt my heart lurch in my chest. Slowly, as if pulled by an invisible string, I lifted my gaze to meet his.
“What happens now?” The question escaped before I could stop it, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound composed.
Dante’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile, one that sent a shiver down my spine. He pushed off the desk with a predator’s grace, his movements deliberate and calculated as he closed the distance between us.
“Now?” he echoed, his tone deceptively soft as he reached for me. His fingers flexed at his sides before grasping my chin, tilting my face up so that I had no choice but to look at him. The heat of his touch burned through my skin, his grip firm but not painful. “Now you belong to me.”
The words hung between us like a death sentence, heavy and final, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. My chest tightened, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure everyone in the room could hear it.
“What—” I started, but my voice broke, and I swallowed hard, trying again. “What are you talking about?”
Dante’s smile didn’t waver, but there was no warmth in it. “Your father and I have come to an agreement,” he said, his voice smooth and unyielding. “Your… indiscretion has put your family in a precarious position. One that requires a solution.”
Indiscretion. The word made my stomach churn, and I wanted to scream at him, to tell him that I hadn’t done anything wrong. But the look in his eyes stopped me cold—dark and unrelenting, a predator toying with its prey.
“And what solution is that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Dante’s gaze flicked to my father, who stood rigid behind his desk, his expression a mask of anger and resignation. “Your father has agreed to settle the debt in a way that ensures the Contis are compensated for their losses.”
Dante’s smile turned razor-sharp, his grip on my chin tightening just enough to send a jolt of fear through me. His voice was low, almost conversational, but there was an edge to it that made the room feel colder. “Your hand in marriage.”
The words hit me like a slap, leaving me breathless and reeling. I blinked up at him, sure I’d misheard, but the predatory gleam in his eyes told me otherwise. My stomach twisted violently, and for a moment, I thought I might be sick.
“What?” I whispered, the word barely audible.
“You heard me,” Dante said, his tone calm, almost amused. He released my chin and straightened, rolling his shoulders as if this were just another business deal. “Your father has agreed that the debt your… mistake created will be resolved through our union.”
I shot a desperate look at my father, hoping—praying—that this was some kind of cruel joke. But the grim set of his jaw, the way his hands were clasped tightly behind his back, told me everything I needed to know.
“You agreed to this?” My voice cracked, and I hated the way it betrayed my growing panic. “You’re just going to sell me off like… like cattle?”
My father’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing as he barked, “Watch your tone, Emilia. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The shame you’ve brought to this family? If Dante hadn’t been so generous?—”
“Generous?” I cut him off, my voice rising as I stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “You think this is generosity? He’s blackmailing you. Blackmailing me!”
“Sit down.” My father’s voice was sharp, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You will do as you’re told.”
I opened my mouth to argue, to scream, to tell him exactly what I thought of his so-called generosity, but Dante’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.
“Enough.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the authority in it silenced the room. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and I felt the weight of his gaze like a physical force. “This isn’t up for debate, Emilia. Your father has agreed, and so have I.”
I turned back to him, my chest heaving as I tried to keep the rising panic at bay. “You can’t be serious,” I said, my voice trembling. “You don’t even like me.”
Dante’s lips curved into a smirk, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “This isn’t about liking you, princess. This is about loyalty. Trust. And ensuring that the Ricci family pays what it owes.”
“I didn’t take your money!” I shouted, my voice breaking as the tears I’d been holding back threatened to spill over. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And yet,” Dante said, his tone maddeningly calm, “the evidence says otherwise.”
I shook my head, my hands trembling as I clenched them into fists at my sides. “This is insane. You can’t just force me into marriage because of some numbers on a ledger.”
“Oh, I can,” Dante said, his smirk widening as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “And I will.”
“Papà, you can’t let him do this,” I pleaded, turning back to my father. My voice was raw, desperate, but he refused to meet my gaze. “Please. Don’t do this.”
“This isn’t about what I want, Emilia,” my father said, his tone cold and unyielding. “This is about survival. About protecting this family.”
“By sacrificing me?” I demanded, my voice rising as I took a step toward him. “You’re just going to hand me over to him like some… some bargaining chip?”
“You will do as you’re told,” my father said again, his voice like steel. “This is your duty.”
My knees felt weak, my chest tightening as the weight of his words settled over me. I turned back to Dante, my vision blurred with unshed tears. “You don’t have to do this,” I said, my voice trembling. “Please. Don’t do this.”
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—something that almost looked like regret. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, calculating man I’d come to know.
“It’s already done,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument. “My lawyer will draft the contract. Once it’s signed, we’ll celebrate.”
Celebrate. The word made my stomach churn. There was nothing to celebrate here. Nothing but my complete and utter defeat.
“You’re a monster,” I whispered, my voice trembling with anger and grief.
Dante’s smirk was a dagger, sharp and cutting, as he leaned closer. The air between us felt electric, crackling with tension that made my skin prickle and my chest tighten. He was too close—close enough that I could smell the faint scent of whiskey on his breath, the subtle spice of his cologne that still haunted my dreams.
“A monster?” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, like velvet wrapping around steel. “Perhaps. But I’m the monster keeping your family alive. Remember that, princess.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. “I’m not your princess. I’m not your anything.”
His dark eyes burned into mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker there—something raw and unguarded. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the cold, unrelenting mask he always wore. He straightened, his movements slow and deliberate, as if to remind me that he was in control here, that he held all the power.
“You’ll learn,” he said simply, his tone maddeningly calm. “You’ll learn what it means to belong to me.”
The words sent a shiver down my spine, and I hated the way my body betrayed me, the way my pulse quickened and my breath hitched despite the fury burning in my chest. I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to keep my composure.
“This isn’t over,” I said, my voice trembling but firm. “You can’t just?—”
“Enough,” my father barked, cutting me off. His face was a storm of fury, his hands clenched into fists on the desk. “You will do as you’re told, Emilia. This is not a negotiation.”
I turned to him, my chest heaving as I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Do you even care what this is doing to me?” I demanded, my voice breaking. “Do you care at all?”
My father’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he stared me down. “What I care about is this family’s survival,” he said coldly. “And if this is the price we have to pay, then so be it.”
The finality in his tone was like a slap, and I felt the tears I’d been holding back spill over, hot and stinging as they streaked down my cheeks. I turned away, unable to look at him, unable to face the man who had just sold me off like a piece of property.
“Emilia,” Dante said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. But when I turned to him, his expression was anything but kind. His dark eyes were hard, unyielding, as he reached for me again, his fingers brushing against my chin before tilting my face up to meet his gaze.
“You’ll thank me one day,” he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of a promise I couldn’t bring myself to believe. “When you’re still breathing, when your family is still standing, you’ll understand why this had to happen.”
I shook my head, my tears blurring my vision as I pulled away from his touch. “I’ll never thank you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and grief. “I’ll never forgive you for this.” I spat on the floor at his feet. "Fuck you."
His lips curved into a faint, humorless smile, and he stepped back, his hands sliding into his pockets as he regarded me with an intensity that made my chest ache. “We’ll see,” he said simply, his tone laced with a quiet confidence that made my stomach twist.
“Dante,” Luca’s voice broke through the tension, drawing both of our gazes. He was leaning casually against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the scene unfold with a faint smirk. “The lawyer’s on his way to ours.”
Dante nodded, his expression unreadable as he turned back to me. “You should get some rest, princess,” he said, his voice low and smooth.
I opened my mouth to respond, to tell him exactly what I thought of his so-called concern, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the study, my footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors as I made my way down the hall.
The tears came harder now, unstoppable and overwhelming, and I hated myself for it. Hated the way he had reduced me to this—a trembling, broken mess. Hated the way my father had betrayed me, the way my family had stood by and let it happen. But most of all, I hated the way a part of me still wanted to turn back, still wanted to fight for the man.
The hallway felt endless, each step dragging me further into the abyss of my own despair. My chest heaved with silent sobs, my hands trembling as they clutched at the fabric of my dress, trying to hold myself together. But it was futile. I was unraveling, piece by piece, and there was no one to stop it.
I reached my bedroom and slammed the door shut behind me, leaning against it as I slid to the floor. The tears came harder now, hot and relentless, and I buried my face in my hands, letting the weight of everything crash over me.
Dante’s words echoed in my mind, cruel and unyielding. “Now you belong to me.”
My stomach twisted, the nausea rising again as I replayed the way he’d looked at me—like I was a prize he’d claimed, a possession he could control. But beneath the anger, beneath the grief, there was something else. Something I didn’t want to admit, even to myself.
Fear.
It wasn’t just Dante, though he terrified me in ways I couldn’t fully articulate. It was something deeper—an insidious dread that gnawed at the edges of my resolve. I was afraid of losing myself, of becoming someone I didn’t recognize. Someone whose life was shaped entirely by the choices of others, rather than her own. A puppet on strings I couldn’t see, much less cut.
I wiped at my face with trembling hands, forcing myself to take a deep breath. I couldn’t let him see me like this. I couldn’t let him win. If Dante wanted to break me, he’d have to try harder than this.
A knock at the door startled me, and I scrambled to my feet, my heart racing. For a moment, I thought it might be him—Dante, come to twist the knife even further. But when I opened the door, it was Tony.
His expression was grim, his dark eyes filled with a mix of anger and something that almost looked like pity. He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.
“Tony,” I said, my voice hoarse from crying. “What do you want?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he crossed the room and sank onto the edge of my bed, his hands resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating, until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Say something,” I demanded, my voice trembling. “Anything.”
He looked up at me then, his jaw tight. “You shouldn’t have spat at him,” he said finally, his tone low but firm.
I blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected reprimand. “That’s what you’re worried about?” I snapped, my anger flaring again. “That I offended him ?”
Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand, Emilia. This isn’t just about you. This is about all of us. About the family.”
“Don’t you dare,” I said, pointing a trembling finger at him. “Don’t you dare stand there and tell me this is for the family. You’re my brother, Tony. You’re supposed to protect me, not let them sell me off like some… some?—”
“Enough,” he interrupted, his voice sharp. He stood abruptly, his presence suddenly towering and imposing. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think any of us wanted this? You think I don’t hate what’s happening to you?”
“Then stop it!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “Do something! You’re my brother, Tony. You’re supposed to fight for me.”
His expression softened, the anger in his eyes giving way to something heavier. “I can’t,” he said quietly. “Not against him. Not against Dante. You don’t understand what he’s capable of, Emilia. None of us do.”
I shook my head, my chest tightening as the tears threatened to spill again. “You’re all cowards,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Every single one of you.”
Tony flinched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against my shoulder in a gesture that was almost comforting.
Almost.