Unforgiving Heir (The Dante Dynasty #4)

Isabella

I was raised to be seen and not heard. It’s insulting except for moments like this when I hear my father’s voice drifting from his study.

There’s been a lot of tension from him and my brother since whatever they’d planned with the Bratva against the Dantes failed.

I stop outside his study, ear pressed to the door.

"The Dantes are vulnerable," Father says. "Ever since Lorenzo's death. Alessandro is trying to hold it together, but he's stretched too thin."

“They were able to dismantle the Bratva and kill the Vasiliev brothers,” my brother, Enrico, reminds my father.

“And they lost a lot of men doing it. Now is the time to strike. We've waited decades for this opportunity."

I’m aware that my father has coveted the Dante territory for a long time.

I remember hearing that Don Lorenzo Dante had been killed, and my father saw it as a sign to strike.

While he says the new Don isn’t as capable as Lorenzo had been, he’s proven more difficult to defeat than my father seems to want to admit.

“What about Luca?” my brother asks of Don Dante’s brother.

“He’s in Chicago. Has his own business. Didn’t even show up to help Alessandro with the Bratva. We still have Adriano to contend with, but he’s distracted with his wife. No, it’s Alessandro we need to focus on. He's carrying the entire Dante empire on his shoulders."

I don’t understand men and their obsessive need for power.

Is it insecurity?

It makes no sense to me that men clobber each other in bloody battles and violent vendettas, all stretching back generations, just for power and money.

It’s Medieval.

“True, but we need to be careful. His defeat of the Bratva proves that. A defeat we were supposed to help him deliver, but instead, we double-crossed him.”

I press my ear closer to the gap, my curiosity piqued. This is news to me.

Father grunts in reluctant admission. "The council still brings that up in every meeting. We lost seventeen men that night. They want us to forge a truce."

"Alessandro won’t forget that we tried to form an alliance with him and then turned on him. He’s not likely to hear us out. I heard he sent the head of one of Ivan’s messengers back to him when Ivan tried to force his hand.”

I cover my mouth to stifle a gasp. The Dantes' reputation for brutality isn't exaggerated, it seems.

“Whose side are you on?” Father snaps at Enrico.

“Our side, of course, but I’d like to live to enjoy the fruits of our labor. We’d be wise not to underestimate Alessandro.”

"So, what do you suggest?" Father's voice carries a dangerous edge that makes even Enrico tread carefully.

"The council is right," Enrico says. "We should strike a truce, perhaps even an alliance. Alessandro is dangerous, but he's also pragmatic. With the Bratva fractured, he needs allies."

Father makes a dismissive sound. "You want me to extend an olive branch to a Dante?"

"I want us alive, Father. The elders are rattled. They remember the last war with the Dantes. They know how Alessandro has successfully dismantled the Bratva. They don't want another bloodbath."

A long silence follows. I imagine Father drinking his whiskey, contemplating his options. “As you said, they’ll dismiss any overtures we make by sending the messenger’s head back to us.”

“Didn’t the elders suggest merging the families? Isabella is eighteen now.”

My blood freezes.

“They did. I’d hate to waste her on someone as unworthy as a Dante,” Father says.

I want to feel relieved, but my father’s response wasn’t a no.

"She's of age," Enrico stresses. "Beautiful enough to turn heads. Obedient. Silent when needed."

I almost laugh at that last part. If only he knew the thoughts that rage behind my smile.

"A marriage would satisfy them, bind the families without bloodshed,” Father muses. “And Isabella will do as she's told. Perhaps we can control Dante from within his own house."

I want to scream.

Being born a female in a world of powerful men means I’m theirs to do whatever they want.

I’m an asset, like stocks or bonds, and can be traded or used as currency.

I’ve watched my entire life as my mother shrank under my father’s thumb, her spirit crushed until she’s a shadow of a person.

Is that to be my future as well?

"Does Alessandro even want a wife?" Enrico ponders.

"What Alessandro wants is irrelevant. His council will recognize the strategic advantage. Peace without surrender. Strength through unity."

My future slides into focus with terrifying clarity.

My body is the bargaining chip in my family's bid for power.

I imagine being chained to the infamous Alessandro Dante, the man known for ruthlessness and brutality.

They can sell me off, but I don’t have to wither away under their dominance.

My mother chose submission.

I won't make the same mistake.

If I'm to be traded like cattle, I'll find ways to preserve who I am.

I slip away from the door, moving to the stairs and up to my bedroom before they discover me eavesdropping.

But even in my room, I can’t escape reality.

Father's words echo through my mind. Words he’s drilled it into me since I was a child, trying to exert my own will.

"A woman's value is in how well she serves the men around her. Support your father and later, your husband. Produce healthy sons,” he'd told me on my sixteenth birthday, examining my face like I was a broodmare. "Your beauty is an asset to our family."

I've always known this day would come.

The fantasy that I might somehow escape my birthright was a childish dream.

I’d been naive to believe my education might lead somewhere.

Beyond a basic high school education, I’ve taken it upon myself to read and study about the world, about people, about life.

I imagined being like other women my age who attend university, build careers, choose their own lives.

But I’m not allowed to be my own woman, something my father reminded me of last month at cousin Guilia’s wedding when he caught me laughing too loudly with the groomsmen. "Remember who you are. A Vitale woman is dignified. Restrained. Don’t embarrass the family."

I sink into the window seat in my bedroom, looking out into the world that I desperately want to explore but know I never will.

All my small rebellions, the contraband novels hidden beneath my mattress, the secret Italian lessons with our elderly gardener who teaches me words Father would never approve of, suddenly seem like a childish waste of time.

My father intends to marry me into the family he wants to destroy. Alessandro Dante. The man whose name is spoken with equal parts fear and reverence.

I let out a frustrated growl at my circumstances. As far as my father is concerned, I was groomed for this moment.

Cultured. Refined. Obedient.

He doesn’t see that there is more to me.

"Isabella Dante." I test the name, and it sends a chill through me. How does one prepare to wed a monster?

Yet beneath my fear burns a flame that refuses to be extinguished.

They may have orchestrated every aspect of my life, but they cannot control my thoughts, my private rebellions.

The revelation settles over me.

I've been prepared for this role my entire life, but perhaps instead of fighting it, I can master it.

My path may be predetermined, but how I walk it remains my choice.

Alessandro Dante may be getting a bride, but he won't be getting the obedient doll my father promised.

This marriage isn't the end of my story.

It's simply the beginning of a different one.

One where I'll find a way to create a life that belongs to me.