Chapter 24
24
DANTE
I f the gala was a battlefield, Emilia was winning.
Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, casting fractured light across the marble floors. The air buzzed with the low hum of polite conversation, the clinking of champagne flutes, and the quiet, calculated laughter of people who wore civility like a mask and violence like a second skin. Everyone here was someone—old money, new power, or dangerous enough to fake both.
I’d been to hundreds of these events over the years. They were all the same—smiles sharp as knives, handshakes that meant nothing, and deals whispered between courses. I usually endured them with the same detached indifference I reserved for funerals.
But tonight was different.
Tonight, I had Emilia.
And I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off her.
She moved through the crowd like she owned it—head high, shoulders back, that midnight blue dress hugging her body like it had been stitched onto her skin. The slit up her thigh was a calculated threat, and the way she walked in those heels? A goddamn declaration of war.
She was magnetic. Every man in the room noticed her. I saw the way their eyes followed her, the way their gazes lingered too long. I saw it, and I didn’t care how expensive their suits were or how many zeroes followed their names—I’d break every single one of their fingers if they touched her.
She was mine.
And tonight, she looked like she knew it.
I stood near the bar, a glass of bourbon in hand, watching her from across the room. She was laughing at something Adrianna said, her head tilted back slightly, the curve of her neck exposed and glowing under the soft lighting. Her smile was real—sharp, amused, just a little dangerous.
God, she was beautiful.
Not just in the way that made men stupid. Not just in the way that made women want to hate her. But in the way that made you want to burn the world down just to keep her warm.
“Jesus,” Luca muttered beside me, nursing his drink. “You’re staring at her like she’s the last woman on earth.”
“She might as well be,” I said without looking away.
Rafe let out a low whistle. “You’re really in it, huh?”
I glanced at them, both standing there without dates, dressed to the nines and still somehow managing to look like they’d rather be anywhere else.
“No dates tonight?” I asked, arching a brow.
Luca smirked. “Didn’t want to upstage you and the wife.”
Rafe shrugged. “Didn’t feel like pretending to care about someone for three hours.”
I grunted, sipping my bourbon. “Cowards.”
Luca laughed. “Says the man who married the one woman who can actually hold her own in a room like this.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Emilia wasn’t just surviving this world—she was thriving in it. She didn’t flinch at the power plays, didn’t shrink under the weight of the stares. She met them head-on, chin tilted, eyes sharp. She was dangerous in a way no one expected.
And I loved that about her.
I finished my drink and handed the glass to a passing server before pushing off the bar. “I’m going to check on her.”
“Try not to drool,” Luca called after me.
I didn’t bother responding. I was already walking.
She was standing near the silent auction tables, her fingers trailing lightly over the edge of a clipboard as she read through the items. Her expression was thoughtful, focused, but there was a spark of mischief in her eyes that told me she was up to something.
As I crossed the room, the crowd seemed to part without effort, their gazes flicking between me and Emilia like they could feel the gravity pulling us toward each other. She hadn’t noticed me yet—too caught up in whatever Adrianna was saying—but I noticed her.
I noticed everything.
The way her dress shimmered under the light, catching like starlight against her skin. The way her fingers curled lightly around the stem of her champagne flute, her nails painted a deep, glossy red that matched her lips. The way she tilted her head slightly when she laughed, the sound low and rich and entirely genuine.
She was breathtaking.
And every step I took toward her felt like a claim, a reminder to everyone in this room that she wasn’t just another beautiful woman in a designer dress.
She was mine.
By the time I reached her, Adrianna had already noticed me, her smile curving into something sly and knowing.
“Dante,” Adrianna said, raising her glass in greeting. Her smile was sharp, but her eyes told a different story. “Come to drag her away already? Or are you just here to remind us all why you shouldn’t be trusted to keep your hands to yourself?”
Her words hit like a blade, clean and deliberate. My jaw tightened as I glanced at Emilia, who stood rigid beside her, her fingers flexing against the stem of her champagne flute.
“Adrianna,” Emilia said quietly, her voice low but firm. A warning. “Not now.”
But Adrianna didn’t stop. She didn’t even look at Emilia. Her gaze stayed locked on me, as sharp and unrelenting as her words. “Not now? Really? Because I think someone needs to remind him that this isn’t something we just sweep under the rug.”
Emilia shifted beside her, her shoulders stiffening, her cheeks flushing. “Adrianna, don’t,” she said, her voice rising slightly, but I held up a hand, stopping her.
“No,” I said, my voice low but steady. “Let her.”
Adrianna arched a brow, her expression daring me to justify myself. The silence stretched between us, heavy and charged, until I finally exhaled and met her gaze head-on.
“She’s right,” I said, the words clawing their way out of me. “I don’t deserve to be let off the hook for what happened that night. I was drunk. Reckless. And that doesn’t excuse it. Nothing excuses it.”
I glanced at Emilia, who was staring at me now, her lips parted, her eyes searching mine. I couldn’t look at her for long. Not yet. Not when I was laying myself bare like this.
“I will hate myself for the rest of my life for hurting her,” I said, my voice rougher now, but I pushed through it. “For losing control. For putting my hands on her in a way that left a mark—a mark I’ll never be able to erase, no matter how much I wish I could.”
Adrianna’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, her gaze turned colder, sharper, like she was dissecting every word, weighing its truth. I didn’t blame her. She had every right to doubt me.
“And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to her,” I continued, forcing myself to meet her stare. “I’ll move every mountain, burn every bridge, drop to my goddamn knees if I have to. Whatever it takes to prove to her that it will never happen again. That I will never lay a hand on her like that again. Ever.”
The words felt like an exorcism, raw and unfiltered, spilling out of me because they needed to be said. Because Adrianna needed to hear them. Because Emilia needed to hear them.
Adrianna tilted her head slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line as her gaze flicked to Emilia. “Good,” she said finally, her voice quieter but no less sharp. “Because if you ever forget, Dante, I’ll remind you. And trust me, I’m not afraid of you.”
A faint smirk tugged at my lips, though there was no humor in it. “I don’t doubt that,” I said softly.
Emilia let out a shaky breath beside me, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she stepped closer, her fingers brushing my arm. “Well,” she said lightly, though her voice carried an edge, “this is officially the most dramatic auction I’ve ever been to.”
Adrianna’s lips curved into a sly smile, raising her glass. “Welcome to the family, darling.”
I reached out, my hand settling on Emilia’s waist as I leaned in closer, my voice low enough for only her to hear. “Are you alright?” I asked, the words rougher than I intended.
She glanced up at me, her eyes soft but guarded, something unspoken passing between us before she gave a small nod. “I’m fine,” she murmured. “But you definitely owe me a castle.”
My lips twitched into a small, genuine smile. “Anything you want, princess.”
Her smile widened slightly, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes. She stepped closer, her body brushing against mine just enough to make my pulse quicken. Rising up on her toes, she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear as she whispered, “And that thing you said about dropping to your knees? Wouldn’t be too bad either. You were really good at it last time.”
Heat shot through me, sharp and immediate, my body tightening at the memory of her legs trembling around me, her fingers clutching my hair as I brought her over the edge. My jaw clenched, the glass in my hand suddenly feeling unnecessary. I set it down on a nearby table, my hand flexing against her waist as I forced myself to exhale slowly.
“Careful, Emilia,” I murmured, my voice low and rough. “You keep talking like that, and I’ll drop to my knees right here.”
Her laugh was soft and breathy, the sound curling around me like smoke. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen at this gala,” she teased, her lips brushing my jaw as she pulled back just enough to meet my gaze.
I caught her chin between my fingers, holding her there for a moment as I let my eyes roam her face—the slight flush in her cheeks, the spark of defiance in her eyes, the way her lips parted just slightly under my touch. “You’re going to be the death of me,” I said quietly, the words rough but true.
She tilted her head, her smile edging toward something softer, something real. “Well,” she said lightly, “at least you’ll die happy.”
I couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at my mouth. “Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
Her gaze was steady, sharp as a blade, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath it.
“Adrianna,” I said without looking away from Emilia, my voice calm but firm. “Do you mind?”
Adrianna chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Not at all. But don’t keep her too long. I was just getting to the good part.”
She gave Emilia a quick wink before slipping away, leaving the two of us alone in the middle of the crowd.
“You’re hovering,” Emilia said, raising a brow as she sipped her champagne.
“Planning to bankrupt me?” I asked as I stepped beside her. I reached out, my fingers brushing against her waist lightly—just enough to feel the warmth of her skin beneath the fabric.
“Absolutely.”
I smirked. “What are you bidding on?”
She flipped to the next sheet. “Let’s see… front-row tickets to a Juventus match, a signed Taylor Swift vinyl, a Scandinavian spa weekend, and a month-long stay at a ridiculously overpriced Italian chateau.”
I raised a brow. “A month?”
She finally looked up at me, her lips curving into a slow smile. “I figured if I’m going to spend your money, I might as well do it properly.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “I did tell you to spend.”
She leaned in slightly, her voice low and teasing. “So I just say, ‘Put it on my husband’s tab,’ and they hand me the keys to a castle?”
“Something like that,” I murmured, my gaze lingering on her mouth.
She was close. Too close. Not close enough.
Her perfume wrapped around me—something floral, something warm. It clung to her skin like a secret, and it made my pulse spike in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
“You’re staring again,” she said, her tone amused.
“Can you blame me?”
She arched a brow. “You’re going to make a scene.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
Her smile faltered, just slightly, and something shifted in her eyes. Something softer. Something real.
“Why do you look at me like that?” she asked quietly.
I didn’t answer right away.
Because the truth was, I didn’t know how to explain it. How to put into words the way she made me feel. Like I was standing on the edge of something I couldn’t name. Like I was falling and flying at the same time.
“Because you’re mine,” I said finally. “And I still can’t believe it.”
She blinked, caught off guard.
Then she looked away, her fingers brushing over the edge of the clipboard again. “You’re not supposed to say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes it harder to hate you.”
I stepped closer, my hand brushing hers. “Good.”
She didn’t pull away.
We stood there for a moment, the noise of the gala fading into the background, the weight of everything unspoken settling between us like smoke.
And as I stood there, with her smile cutting through the chaos around us and her presence grounding me in a way nothing else could, I realized something.
I didn’t care about the gala.
I didn’t care about the deals being made or the stares being cast our way.
I only cared about her.
Then she cleared her throat and turned back to the clipboard. “I’m also bidding on a year’s supply of wine.”
I laughed. “Of course you are.”
She glanced at me, her smile returning, soft but laced with that edge of defiance I’d come to expect from her. “You’ll need it to survive me.”
I didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t want to survive you,” I said, my voice low, deliberate. “I want to be undone by you.”
The words hung between us, cloaked in something heavier than the simple banter we usually exchanged.
Her breath hitched, the faintest sound, but I caught it.
And for a second—just a second—I saw it.
The way her walls cracked, splintering at the edges. The way her guard slipped, leaving her open in a way she rarely allowed. The way she looked at me like she wanted to believe I meant it.
Because I did.
Every word.
I wanted her to unravel me, to strip me bare of everything I thought I was and rebuild me into something better. Because that’s what she did—without even trying.
But she didn’t say anything.
Her lips parted slightly, like she might, but then she stopped, her gaze flicking away for just a moment before returning to mine. I didn’t push. I knew better than to push her when she wasn’t ready.
Still, the air between us felt charged, electric, like we were standing on the edge of something neither of us could name.
Someone called my name from across the room, the sound cutting through the moment like a blade.
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to step back, to put distance between us when all I wanted to do was stay. “Duty calls.”
Her expression shifted, the crack in her armor sealing itself up again. Her smile returned, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Go play king.”
I smirked, though it felt weaker now, like a pale imitation of the real thing. “You’ll be here when I get back?”
She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corners of her lips. “Where else would I be?”
That shouldn’t have been a question that rattled me.
But it did.
Because the truth was, I didn’t have an answer.
I nodded, reluctant to leave her side but knowing I didn’t have a choice. “Good,” I said, my voice quieter now.
And then I walked away, my steps measured, my shoulders squared like nothing had shifted inside me. Like I hadn’t just felt my chest tighten at the thought of her not being there when I returned.
But I couldn’t stop myself from glancing back, just once.
She was still standing there, her head tilted slightly as she watched me go. Her face was unreadable again, her expression carefully blank, but I caught the way her fingers brushed against the stem of her champagne flute, fidgeting just slightly.
She wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted me to believe.
And knowing that?
It made me want to tear through this entire room just to get back to her.
Because tonight, I wasn’t just playing the part of the powerful don.
Tonight, I was a man in love with his wife.
And for the first time in a long time, that felt like enough.
But it wasn’t just enough.
It was everything.