Chapter 4
Dante
“What have you done?!” my father erupted from the other side of his desk. He slammed his fists down on the mahogany, pens and lamp rattling against the wood. “What is the meaning of this?!”
I sat in the chair, doing everything I could to keep my cool. Valentis were known for their temper, but my father’s was practically legendary. He was the only person I was truly scared of.
“I did exactly what you asked,” I said, attempting to play the fool. “I acquired the Wesley ranch, legitimately, through marriage.”
“I told you to marry the girl, Dante,” he barked. “Not play queer with some cowboy!”
I leaned forward, trying to project all the power I could. “You told me to do whatever it took even if I had to get creative.” I let his echoed words sink in. “The girl was going to be trouble,” I lied. “I did what needed to be done.”
My father’s face turned a dangerous shade of red. He reached for the tumbler of whiskey on his desk and drained it in one swallow, then slammed it down hard enough that I was surprised it didn’t shatter.
“Creative,” he repeated, his voice low and deadly. “I tell you to secure a foothold in Montana, and you come back with a fucking husband. Do you have any idea how this makes us look? How this makes me look?”
“It makes us look legitimate,” I countered, keeping my voice steady even as my pulse quickened.
“A rancher’s son married into the family.
Someone who knows the land, the business, the community.
Someone who has roots there that we can build on.
That’s worth more than some scared girl who’d cry herself to sleep every night. ”
“A rancher’s son,” my father spat. “A man, Dante. You married a man.”
“So what?” I stood up, unable to keep sitting under his glare. “This is business. You’ve always told me that business comes first. That personal feelings don’t matter when there’s money and territory at stake.”
“Don’t you dare throw my own words back at me.” He pointed a thick finger at my chest. “You think I don’t know what this is really about? You think I haven’t noticed how you look at men? How you’ve avoided every marriage arrangement I’ve tried to set up for you?”
My jaw clenched. We’d never spoken about this directly, always dancing around it with careful words and willful ignorance. Hearing him say it out loud made something cold settle in my stomach.
“This has nothing to do with that,” I said, even though he was right. “This is about getting what we need in Montana. Nick Wesley was the better choice. He’s stronger, more invested in the ranch, and he won’t crack under pressure. I made a business decision.”
“A business decision.” My father laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You made a selfish decision. You saw something you wanted, and you took it, consequences be damned.”
“The only consequence is that we now own one of the largest ranches in the Hell Creek valley,” I shot back. “The debt is settled, the property is secured, and we have a legitimate operation to funnel clean money through. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
He stared at me for a long moment, his chest heaving with barely controlled rage. Then he moved around the desk, faster than a man his age should be able to move and grabbed me by the collar.
“Listen to me very carefully,” he said, his face inches from mine.
“You will make this work. You will run that ranch, you will establish our presence out west, and you will not embarrass this family any further. I don’t care what you have to do to that cowboy to keep him in line, but you will make him a proper Valenti. Understand?”
I held his gaze, refusing to look away. “I understand.”
“And if you fuck this up—if you let your personal shit get in the way of business—I will bury you so deep that even your brothers won’t be able to find you. You hear me?”
“I hear you.”
He shoved me back, releasing my collar. I straightened my jacket, maintaining what dignity I could.
“When’s the wedding?” he asked, moving back behind his desk.
“One month. Courthouse ceremony.”
“Good. Keep it quiet. The last thing we need is press.” He poured himself another whiskey.
“And Dante? I want results. I want that ranch profitable within six months. I want connections established. I want other opportunities identified. You promised me Montana would be worth the investment. Prove it.”
“I will.”
“You better.” He took a sip of his drink, then waved his hand dismissively. “Get out. I can’t stand to look at you right now.”
I left his study, my hands shaking slightly as I closed the door behind me.
I stood in the hallway for a moment, letting my breathing return to normal.
That had gone better than I’d feared, if I was being honest. He was angry, but he hadn’t pulled the plug on the whole operation.
That meant I still had a chance to prove myself.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Marco.
Marco: Benson and his family are taken care of. Costa Rica. Clean.
I deleted the message and headed for the exit.
I had a flight back to Montana tomorrow to start making arrangements for the move.
There was so much to do—finding a place to live on the ranch, setting up the business accounts, meeting with suppliers and buyers.
And somewhere in all of that, I had to figure out how to handle my new husband.
Nick Wesley.
I’d seen the hatred in his eyes when he signed that prenup. The way his hand had trembled, the flush of shame on his cheeks. He’d looked at me like I was the devil himself come to collect his soul. And maybe I was. Maybe that’s exactly what this family had made me.
But I’d also seen something else in those green eyes. Something that made my pulse quicken in a way that had nothing to do with business.
Fear, yes. But also, fire. Defiance. The promise that he wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Good. I liked a challenge. He was going to be so sweet to break.
I stepped out into the humid New Jersey night, the door closing behind me with a heavy thunk that felt final.
I walked to my car and started the engine, already mentally planning my next moves.
The month before the wedding would be crucial.
I needed to establish dominance early, make Nick understand that his life as he knew it was over.
But I also needed to be smart about it. Push too hard and he might break completely, become useless to me.
Not hard enough and he’d think he could resist.
It was a delicate balance, one I’d have to feel out as I went.
The drive back to my apartment took me through the familiar streets of Newark, past the social clubs and restaurants where my family had conducted business for five generations.
This was my world. Concrete and steel, backroom deals and blood on the pavement.
Montana was going to be different. Clean air and open spaces, cattle instead of contraband.
And a cowboy husband who hated my guts.
I found myself thinking about the way Nick had looked in those photographs. The easy confidence in his posture, the genuine smile. That version of him was already gone, killed the moment he’d signed his name on that prenup. Now I had to figure out what would rise from the ashes.
Something useful, I hoped. Something I could control.
My phone rang as I pulled into my parking garage. My oldest brother, Luca.
“I heard,” he said without preamble when I answered. “Pop’s losing his mind.”
“Pop’s always losing his mind about something,” I replied, killing the engine.
“Yeah, but usually it’s not because one of his sons married a fucking cowboy.” There was amusement in his voice, though. Luca had always been the most tolerant of my brothers. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.”
“It was the smart play.”
“Was it?” He paused. “Or did you just want him?”
I didn’t answer right away. Luca knew me too well, had seen through my carefully constructed walls since we were kids.
“Does it matter?” I finally asked.
“To Pop, yes. To me?” He laughed. “Not really. Just don’t fuck it up, Dante. This family doesn’t give second chances, even to blood.”
“I know.”
“Good. And hey—send pictures from the wedding. I want to see what kind of man makes my baby brother go rogue.”
He hung up before I could respond.
I sat in the dark garage for a moment, my hands still gripping the steering wheel. Luca was right to be concerned. I was walking a razor’s edge here, trying to satisfy both my father’s business demands and my own desires. One misstep and I’d lose everything.
But when I closed my eyes, all I could see was Nick’s face. The defiance in those green eyes. The way his jaw had clenched when I’d touched his cheek. The barely controlled rage that had radiated off him like heat.
I wanted to break that rage. Bend it. Make it mine.
One month. That’s all the time Nick Wesley had left as a free man. After that, he belonged to me. Legally, financially, and most importantly, physically. Every part of him would be mine to shape and mold into exactly what I needed.
And if he fought me every step of the way?
Even better.
My apartment was in a high rise downtown. I gave my keys to the valet to park my car before heading to the entrance. However, just before I got there, someone darted out of the shadows and grabbed me by the collar, slamming me against the wall.
“Where is he?!” the man cried, his voice gravelly and fully of exhaustion. “What the fuck did you do to Benson?!”
I looked up, the light catching the man’s face at last. It was Detective Caruso. It took everything I had not to grin.
“Looking to lose your badge, detective?” I answered, not giving him an inch. “Attacking an innocent man at night in plain sight of the security cameras? That doesn’t feel like I very smart plan.”
“Shut the fuck up, Dante! I know you ain’t innocent!” He was feral with rage. “The whole fucking town knows what kinda monster you and your family are!”
I let him rage, keeping my expression neutral even as his spit flecked my face. Caruso was a problem. He had been for months now. But he was also desperate. Desperate men made mistakes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said calmly. “But if someone is missing, perhaps you should file a proper report instead of assaulting citizens on the street.”
“Don’t fucking patronize me.” His grip tightened on my collar, bunching the expensive fabric. “Benson was supposed to meet me yesterday. He never showed. His wife, his kid, they’re all gone. You think I don’t know what that means?”
“I don’t know this Benson person, but maybe he just took a vacation. The tropics are lovely this time of year, I hear.”
His eyes widened slightly. I’d given him just enough to confirm his suspicions, but not enough that he could use in court. It was a game we’d played before.
“You son of a bitch,” he breathed. “I’m going to bury you. You and your whole fucking family.”
“With what evidence, detective?” I asked, my voice dropping lower. “You’ve been trying to make a case against us for five years and you’ve come up with nothing. How’s that working out for you?”
He shoved me harder against the wall, and I felt the brick scrape against my shoulders through my jacket. Around us, a few pedestrians hurried past, carefully not looking in our direction. Nobody wanted to get involved in Valenti business.
“I know Benson talked to you,” Caruso continued. “I know he gave you up. That’s why he’s dead, isn’t it? Because he tried to do the right thing.”
“The right thing,” I repeated, almost laughing. “Is that what you call it? You’re threatening me in public. Is that what you did to Benson? To his kid?”
His face flushed red. Again, just enough to show him I knew more than I was letting on. “That kid was dealing heroin in a school zone. He deserved to be arrested.”
“Did you just admit to using a child as leverage, detective? That’s low.
And what? You made his father choose between his son and his loyalty to my family?
Is that your theory?” I met his eyes, letting him see the truth there.
“You’re just as dirty as the criminals you hunt, Caruso. You just wear a badge while you do it.”
For a moment, I thought he might actually hit me. His fist clenched at his side, trembling with the effort of holding back. But then he seemed to remember where we were, the cameras watching from the building’s entrance.
He released my collar with a shove and stepped back.
“You’re going to slip up eventually,” he said. “And when you do, I’ll be there.”
“If you say so, officer.”
He stared at me for another long moment, his jaw working like he was chewing on words he couldn’t say. Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the Newark night.
I straightened my jacket, brushing off where his hands had wrinkled the fabric.
My heart was racing—it always did after confrontations like this—but I kept my expression neutral as I walked into the building.
The doorman nodded to me like nothing had happened.
He knew better than to acknowledge what he’d seen.
The elevator ride to my penthouse felt longer than usual. I kept thinking about Caruso’s words, the accusation in his eyes. He wasn’t wrong about Benson. They were gone. Marco had been efficient, as always. Nobody in New Jersey would ever see them again, especially not Detective Caruso.
Maybe it was time to take him down a peg or two.
The moment I shut the penthouse door behind me, I called up Angelo.
“Hey, boss.”
“Angelo,” I said, stepping into the kitchen.
“Have the front entrance security footage from my building pulled and sent to the Chief of Police. I was just assaulted by Detective Caruso. Let the Chief know that if he doesn’t do something about it, the footage will be on the six o’clock news from coast to coast by Monday. ”
“You got it, boss.” He paused for a moment. “You okay?”
“He roughed me up, but I’ll live.” I started to pull the phone away to hang up, but then I stopped. “Angelo, you got any family here? Wife? Kids?”
“Nah, boss. Just me. I mean, I try to visit my ma now and then, but she just moved back to Palermo, so it’s a fourteen-hour flight no matter what.”
Angelo wasn’t exactly smart or my friend, but he was reliable. And, the way things were going, I figured I could use all the help I could get.
“You wanna go to Montana?”