Chapter 21
21
EMILIA
I was stretched out on the couch, my legs draped over the armrest, scrolling through an online boutique, debating between two pairs of heels I didn’t need but absolutely wanted. One was a sleek black stiletto with delicate gold accents, the kind of shoe that made you feel powerful the second you slipped it on. The other was a deep crimson, strappy and dangerously high, the kind of shoe that whispered trouble with every step.
I chewed my lip, torn between the two, my finger hovering over the “add to cart” button.
The penthouse was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside the windows, and for once, I felt relaxed. No tension, no arguments, no Dante looming over me with that infuriating smirk that made me want to both slap him and kiss him at the same time.
That was, until Dante walked in.
He had that look on his face—the one that said he was about to ruin my day with something I didn’t particularly care about but would somehow end up stuck doing anyway.
I sighed, setting my phone on my stomach and tilting my head toward him. “What now?”
Dante smirked, leaning casually against the back of the couch, his dark eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and mischief. “We have an event to attend.”
I arched a brow, already suspicious. “An event?”
“A charity auction.”
I groaned, covering my face with my hands like a child who’d just been told they had homework. “Let me guess. A room full of rich criminals pretending to care about the less fortunate while bidding ridiculous amounts of money on things they don’t need?”
Dante chuckled, his fingers brushing over my ankle as he trailed them down my calf, his touch sending a small rush of warmth through me. “Something like that.”
I sat up, swinging my legs off the couch and planting my feet on the floor. “And what exactly is up for auction? A yacht? A private island? Someone’s soul?”
His smirk widened, his gaze gleaming with something that made my stomach twist. “All of the above, probably.”
I rolled my eyes, grabbing my phone again and scrolling back to the boutique. “Wow. I can’t wait to spend all your money. It’s for charity, after all.”
Dante’s smirk deepened, and he knelt slightly, his face level with mine as his fingers brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Of course. Spend whatever you want. But make sure you pick something delicious to wear. I can’t wait to show you off.”
I glanced at him, narrowing my eyes. “You make it sound like I’m some prize you’re parading around.”
He tilted his head, his expression softening but still unreadable, dark and intense. “You are.”
My stomach twisted again, a confusing mix of anger and something darker—something that felt too much like desire. I scoffed, shaking my head as I leaned back against the couch. “Unbelievable.”
Dante laughed, standing and walking toward the kitchen. His footsteps were unhurried, confident, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Where’s it being held?” I called after him, trying to shake off the lingering warmth of his words.
“My cousin Rocco’s estate,” he said, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. He twisted the cap off and took a long sip, watching me over the rim of the bottle as if he were waiting for my reaction.
I frowned, trying to recall if I’d ever been there. “I don’t think I’ve been to his place.”
“You’ve met him, though,” Dante said, setting the water bottle on the counter. He leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze still fixed on me. “You’ll like his estate. It’s extravagant, over-the-top, and designed to impress.”
“Sounds like your entire family,” I muttered under my breath.
Dante chuckled, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “You’re not wrong.”
I stood, stretching my arms over my head, my silk lounge top riding up slightly as I moved. I caught the flicker of his gaze, the way his eyes lingered for just a second longer than necessary before he looked away.
“Well,” I said, grabbing my phone again, “if we’re going to a ridiculous event, I might as well spend the day buying ridiculous things online.”
Dante smirked, stepping closer to me, his presence filling the space between us. He reached out, his fingers brushing along my jaw before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Enjoy yourself, princess.”
I grinned, tilting my head slightly. “Oh, I will.”
He leaned in, his lips grazing my temple, the brief contact sending a shiver down my spine. His voice was soft, low, and full of intention as he murmured, “Good luck.”
I said nothing, watching as he straightened and walked away, his broad shoulders disappearing into the hallway.
My stomach twisted again, but this time, it wasn’t irritation. It was something heavier. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge.
I flopped back onto the couch, staring at my phone screen, but the shoes no longer held my attention.
Dante had a way of doing that—of slipping under my skin, making me feel things I didn’t want to feel.
And I hated him for it.
But I hated myself more for letting him.
The moment Dante disappeared down the hall, I let out a long breath and flopped back onto the couch, my phone still clutched in my hand.
I needed a distraction.
And what better way to distract myself than with a little retail therapy?
I scrolled through the boutique again, but the heels I had been agonizing over just minutes ago no longer held my attention. My mind was still stuck on Dante—on the way he had looked at me, the way his voice had dipped into something dark and teasing when he told me to enjoy myself.
I hated how effortlessly he unraveled me—how a single smirk or the briefest touch could send my pulse skittering out of control.
I groaned, shaking my head. No. I wasn’t going to let him win.
If Dante wanted to play games, I’d play too.
And I’d start by buying another Starbucks mug for my ever-growing collection.
I opened the Starbucks website and scrolled through the latest releases, my fingers tapping absently against the screen. Dante had rolled his eyes the last time I brought home a new one, muttering something about how I already had too many.
Which, of course, only made me want more.
I smirked as I added a limited-edition Paris mug to my cart, then hesitated before adding the Tokyo one as well. Might as well get two.
Satisfied, I completed the purchase and switched over to my messages, tapping out a quick text to Adrianna.
Me: Tell me you’re going to this ridiculous charity event.
Her response came almost immediately.
Adrianna: Ugh. Unfortunately, yes. My mother is making me go. Something about networking and being a proper lady. Kill me now.
I snorted, shaking my head.
Me: At least we’ll suffer together.
Adrianna: True. What are you wearing?
I glanced toward the bedroom, where the dozens of dresses Dante had bought me were still hanging neatly in the wardrobe.
Me: No idea. Dante went on a shopping spree and now I have too many options.
Adrianna: Wait. He bought you dresses?
Me: A whole damn wardrobe.
Adrianna: …Are we sure he’s not in love with you?
I rolled my eyes.
Me: Please.
Adrianna: I’m just saying. Men don’t buy entire wardrobes for women they don’t care about.
I ignored the way my stomach twisted at that, instead typing out a quick response.
Me: It’s not like that.
The moment Adrianna’s text popped up, I knew she wasn’t going to let this go.
Adrianna: Mmhmm. Keep telling yourself that, babe.
I sighed, tossing my phone onto the couch beside me.
I didn’t want to think about Dante right now.
I didn’t want to think about the way he looked at me, the way he touched me, the way he made me feel like I was teetering on the edge of something dangerous.
I just wanted to pick a damn dress and get through this charity event without losing my mind.
Easier said than done.
I pushed off the couch, stretching my arms over my head before making my way toward the bedroom. The wardrobe doors were still open, the dresses Dante had bought me hanging neatly inside, each one more extravagant than the last.
I ran my fingers over the fabrics, my mind drifting.
Dante had bought me an entire wardrobe.
Not just one dress. Not just a few outfits.
An entire wardrobe.
I swallowed hard, shoving the thought away.
I wasn’t going to read into it.
I wasn’t.
Instead, I turned away from the dresses and walked toward the bookshelf in the corner of the room. The photo albums Dante had brought over from my father’s house were still stacked neatly on the lower shelf, untouched since the last time I’d looked through them.
I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the spine of the top album.
Dante had told me to keep looking.
To find the face that didn’t belong.
I exhaled slowly, then pulled the album from the shelf and carried it over to the bed.
The leather cover was worn, the pages thick beneath my fingertips as I flipped through them.
Most of the photos were familiar—family gatherings, business meetings, moments frozen in time that I barely remembered but still recognized.
But then?—
I stopped.
My breath caught in my throat.
A face.
A familiar face.
I frowned, leaning in closer, my fingers tracing the edge of the photograph.
I knew this man.
Not personally, not well.
But I’d seen him before.
Recently.
My stomach twisted as the memory surfaced.
It was at my father’s office.
When I was being trained on the money.
I had been given a code—told to memorize it, never write it down.
And the paperwork I was handed?
It had been wrong.
I had thought it was strange at the time, but I hadn’t questioned it.
Because my family was the mafia.
Because things were always a little off, a little suspicious.
But now?—
Now, I wasn’t so sure.
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the edge of the album.
Had I seen something I wasn’t supposed to?
Had I been given the wrong paperwork on purpose?
Had someone used me without me even realizing it?
The memory sharpened, details clicking into place like pieces of a puzzle I hadn’t even realized I was solving.
I remembered sitting in my father’s office, the weight of his expectations pressing down on me as he explained the financial side of the business. The ledgers, the offshore accounts, the coded transactions that kept everything running smoothly.
“You’ll need to memorize this,” he had said, sliding a slip of paper across the desk toward me. “This is the real code. The one on the official paperwork is just for show.”
I had frowned at the time, confused. “Why?”
His lips had curled into a knowing smirk. “Because we don’t trust anyone, Emilia. Not even the ones who work for us.”
I had nodded, committing the numbers to memory, not thinking twice about it.
But now, staring at the face in the photograph, my pulse quickened.
Because this man—this familiar stranger—had been there that day.
Standing in the corner of the office, silent, watching.
I hadn’t thought much of it at the time. He was just another one of my father’s men, another cog in the machine.
But what if he wasn’t?
What if he had been there for a reason?
What if he had been listening?
I flipped the album closed, my hands trembling slightly.
If the missing money had something to do with this—if someone had used me to access the real code—then this wasn’t just about theft.
It was about betrayal.
And if that was the case, then I wasn’t just a pawn in someone else’s game.
I was the key to unraveling it.
I needed to talk to Dante.
Now.
I stood abruptly, the album clutched tightly in my hands, and made my way toward the door.
Because if I was right?—
If this man had anything to do with the missing money?—
Then I had just found our thief.