Chapter 9
Harlow
Piero is stationed right by my apartment door, his gaze lingering for just a fraction too long before he gives me a brief nod. I step into the hallway, closing the door behind me and turning the lock with a quiet click before making my way downstairs.
Outside, Giorgio is already waiting by the car, standing watch with his usual stoic vigilance. My heels echo against the pavement as I approach. Without a word, he opens the door for me, and I slide into the back seat. Piero follows, settling in beside me as we pull away from the building.
As we weave through the streets toward the restaurant, my phone vibrates with an incoming message. It’s from my cousin, Michael, he’s waiting outside the venue so we may make our entrance together.
Scrolling through my phone, I notice dozens of unread messages in our group chat. Sofia and Elena. Their names light up my screen in a flood of texts.
Sofia: You’ve all but disappeared. There’s been no way to reach you!
Sofia: Would it have been truly that arduous to inform us that you’re, at the very least, alive?
Sofia: Though I have to wonder, are you?
Elena: What in the world? Has someone died?
Sofia: No! But I can’t seem to get hold of Harlow. She’s ignoring my texts, calls, emails, I even sent a postcard…
Elena: I’ll refrain from commenting on that. But last I checked, didn’t she dispose of her phone?
Sofia: She did, but she recently got a new one!
Elena: And how, exactly, did you get her new number?
Sofia: I have my ways. Let’s just say I don’t disclose my sources. And no, before you even ask, she didn’t give it to me herself. ;)
Elena: Ever considered that perhaps she simply doesn’t want to talk to you?
Sofia: …no.
Sofia: I just spoke with Nonno. Harlow, what on earth is going on? You’re engaged? Call me at once. We even received an invitation to your wedding, care to explain?
Elena: Engaged? That’s... unfortunate.
Harlow: Trust me, my reaction was no different. Sorry, I’ve had a lot to deal with and simply needed time. We’ll speak soon, I promise. Everything is fine, there’s no need for concern. I love you both.
Sofia: Oh, but I do worry. Incidentally, Nonno personally instructed me to bring your wedding dress, so I will. Five of them, at the very least. You need options.
Despite everything, I smile.
Too soon, we arrive at the restaurant. My bodyguards scan the area, their eyes sweeping over the surroundings before one of them opens the door for me. I step out, smoothing my dress as I lift my chin, my expression impassive.
Michael and Grandpa are waiting. I stride toward them, my heels clicking, poised to face whatever the night has in store.
“You look stunning, piccola.”
Nonno remarks, his tone filled with quiet approval.
“Thank you. You clean up well yourself.”
He glances toward the building, his countenance impossible to decipher, shadowed by something I can’t quite name. Michael’s voice cuts through the silence, his gaze locking onto mine, his tone even and composed.
“There’s been a change of plans. Prepare yourself. And remember, never betray weakness.”
I frown, uncertain about what has happened since we last spoke. But there’s no time to question him now. It’s already intolerable enough that I must bind my life to a man I barely know.
“Shall we?”
Michael asks, extending a hand.
I nod, slipping my arm through his.
As we step inside, we are met by a woman who flushes deeply at the sight of Michael, her gaze brimming with adoration. He, however, remains indifferent, his focus fixed straight ahead, assessing, taking note of every movement. Men from all three families are positioned strategically, soldati standing guard, ready to strike at the first sign of trouble.
I greet Giovanni and my brothers.
The word still feels as foreign as ever.
I glance around the room, my gaze sweeping over the faces of men who hold more power than most can comprehend. Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, my eyes find Dante’s.
He’s smirking.
Like he knows a secret I’m not entitled to.
His gaze drags over me, following the contours of my body, the way the dress clings to every curve. I see it in his eyes, how he envisions peeling away each layer, cataloguing every detail, every inch of exposed skin. I narrow my eyes, pretending this tiny interaction doesn’t send a rush of heat through me, or make my pulse hammering against my ribs. Because after all, he’s my future father-in-law.
Leonardo may not be his by blood, but he was raised as if he were. Orphaned at a young age, the boy became his responsibility, taken in by a man still mourning his own brother. Yet even through his own grief, he stepped up, shaping his nephew into a sharp, ruthless force, a reflection of himself. I shake my head, brushing away the thoughts. My attention drifts elsewhere, my thoughts pulling me under until a shift in the air snaps me back. Suddenly, Dante stands right in front of me, I hadn't even noticed him move.
His presence is overwhelming, tall, imposing, radiating something dark and powerful. And his scent… it’s intoxicating. A blend of smoked leather and rich, smouldering tobacco, threaded with tonka bean and something deeper, that clings to him like sin and silk. It’s utterly masculine, utterly him.
Warmth gathers deep in my stomach.
I don’t understand why.
I refuse to.
He greets my grandfather and cousin first, offering a handshake. Then, he steps closer, closing the space between us until his warmth seeps into my skin, wrapping around me like something tangible.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to.
Instead, he lifts his hand between us, palm up, silent, expectant. An unspoken command wrapped in a deceptively simple gesture. Without thinking, I place mine in his. It’s instinctive, inevitable, as if some unseen force draws me to him before my mind can object. His fingers curl around mine, warm and firm, his grip both possessive and unhurried.
Slowly, agonizingly so, he lifts my hand toward his lips. His eyes never waver, never release me from their hold. His gaze is a cipher, dark, consuming, impossible to interpret, coiling around me like a whisper of fire against ice. It prickles over my skin. After what feels like an eternity, his lips finally touch my hand.
My breath falters, every nerve tightening, bracing against the force of something I refuse to name. My skin hums, goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch.
And still, he doesn’t look away. Dante lingers, his breath ghosting over my skin, his lips warm against my knuckles before he finally releases me, languidly, as if savouring the moment.
My pulse pounds in my ears as he reaches into his suit jacket, retrieving a small velvet box.
A ring box.
When he opens it, the light catches on the diamond inside, the facets throwing sharp glints against the room’s dim glow.
For no reason at all, this moment feels intimate.
Too intimate.
I can’t tear my gaze from him, from the unspoken weight in his stare.
I’m stunned. I won’t deny it.
I don’t understand what is happening.
Is this what Michael meant when he warned me outside? Or is Dante simply showing me the ring Leonardo will place on my finger?
I keep my expression carefully blank, unwilling to let him see the chaos inside me. But beneath the surface, my emotions churn violently, anger, disbelief, annoyance at being left out of whatever this is.
And heat.
A warmth I want to deny, a flicker of something dangerous that I resent myself for feeling in the first place.
Dante moves with certainty, retrieving the ring from its velvet box before lifting my hand once more. His touch is firm as he slides the diamond onto my finger, his gaze never wavering from mine. I hold my breath. It fits perfectly, as though it was always meant to be there. But the weight of it is staggering, a cold, unyielding shackle that settles against my skin, pressing down with the force of what this truly means. For a moment, neither of us move. The world around us fades into silence, into nothingness. It’s just the two of us, locked in a moment that stretches longer than it should.
I don’t miss the flicker in his eyes, something possessive. Its weight steals the air from my lungs. I inhale sharply, unprepared for the intensity of his stare, for the way it claims me without a single word.
The spell is broken by the sound of my father’s voice.
“Congratulations to the newly engaged couple!”
Giovanni announces, his tone rich with satisfaction.
“This is a moment worth celebrating.”
A waiter appears almost instantly, followed by a line of servers carrying silver trays laden with champagne flutes. Glasses clink softly as they are distributed, and murmurs of approval ripple through the room.
Dante moves first, plucking two glasses from a passing tray. He turns to me, offering one. “For you.”
I accept it without a second thought.
“Much appreciated.”
“It is a celebration, after all. We might as well indulge.”
He utters.
I cast a glance around the room, watching as my family speaks among themselves, discussing how this union serves all three sides. I know exactly what it means, power, security, influence. A business arrangement, sealed with a diamond ring. When I lift my gaze, Dante is already watching me.
I tilt my head ever so slightly, meeting his stare.
“An intriguing turn of events.”
I muse, swirling the champagne in my glass.
“Would you care to enlighten me as to the whereabouts of my fiancé?”
His expression hardens, his gaze darkening with something dangerous.
“Might I remind you,”
he murmurs.
“whose ring adorns your finger? Who placed it there, cara mia?”
A sharp breath catches in my throat. I almost blush.
Almost.
Pressing my fingers into my palm, I focus on the sting, grounding myself, forcing away the slow, insidious warmth pooling deep inside me. Dante notices. His gaze flickers downward, catching the movement of my clenched fist. His jaw tightens, but when his eyes return to mine, his expression is as composed as ever.
Inside, my mind races. I need to make him reconsider. With Leonardo, there would have been no chemistry, no emotions, no complications. Just a business arrangement, a carefully maintained facade. Simple. Effortless. But Dante? With him, I’m not certain that will be possible.
I lift a brow, my voice smooth.
“You know, it might not be too late to change your mind.”
Dante smirks, like he already knows exactly what I’m trying to do.
“I see no reason to.”
I exhale, tilting my head.
“I should warn you, I’m expensive. I’ll spend all your money.”
His smirk deepens.
“Good. I like expensive things. They last longer.”
His voice dips, the gravel in it smoothing into something decadent.
“And, cara mia, you could never truly waste it all, but I dare you to try.”
I narrow my eyes.
“I am not the kind of woman who can be tamed, Dante.”
He leans in, his voice skimming over my skin.
“Why would I ever wish to tame you? Wild things are far more intriguing.”
A flicker of annoyance sparks within me.
“I don’t trust anyone.”
His lips barely shift, amusement lingering at the edges, his voice dropping to something near a whisper.
“That’s wise. Trusting me would be a grave mistake.”
A shiver runs down my spine. He’s too close now, his scent wrapping around me, seductive and unmistakably masculine.
I straighten my shoulders.
“If you’re expecting affection from this arrangement, you’ll be sorely disappointed. I don’t love.”
Dante exhales a low, dark chuckle.
He dares to fucking laugh.
“Even better.”
He muses, his tone edged with amusement.
“Love only complicates things.”
I narrow my eyes.
“I don’t laugh either. I’m no fun. You’ll tire of me soon enough.”
His grin is predatory, a display of confidence. Tilting his head slightly, he leans in, whispering in my ear.
“Then it seems I have no choice but to change that, don’t I?”
The moment his lips graze my ear, arousal sparks low in my belly, pooling wet and wanting between my legs. I steady my voice.
“I don’t break, Salvatore.”
His smirk sharpens, cutting.
“Neither do I.”
My pulse betrays me, hammering against my will. I’m out of retorts, he has an answer for everything.
Still, I lift my chin, refusing to let him see how his presence unravels me.
“This marriage means nothing.”
His jaw tightens, sweeping over my lips before meeting my eyes once more.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Nothing more than a formality. A performance, if you will.”
Dante watches me closely.
“A performance, you say?”
His voice is rough.
“We’ll see about that.”
My breath catches. I don’t know what to say, how to counter the unspoken promise in his words.
“I won’t sleep with you.”
The words escape before I can stop them.
Dante chuckles.
He bends down, his nose brushing against mine, his breath warm and laced with mint. His voice drops into something lethal, dripping with intent.
“I would never impose myself upon you.”
His lips hover just above mine, so close I can almost taste the champagne on his breath.
“But mark my words.”
His voice deepens.
“You’ll be on your knees before long, begging for my cock like a desperate little thing, dripping, ruined, utterly and completely mine.”
His words strike like a match against my skin, and I know without a doubt, my panties are drenched, beyond redemption, a clear betrayal of my resolve.
Dante smirks, as if fully aware of the havoc he’s wrought on my body. And I despise him for it, despise the way his words unravel me.
“Keep dreaming,”
I say, lifting my chin slightly.
“That will never happen.”
Dante laughs, a low, dark sound that lingers in the air, brushing over my skin like velvet.
“One should never speak in absolutes.”
He tilts his head, his eyes gleaming dangerously.
“Everyone has their urges.”
I know exactly where he’s heading with this, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“Unquestionably,”
I cut him off, a smirk curling at the corner of my lips.
“And I’ll satisfy mine elsewhere.”
I see the moment his entire expression shifts. His smirk vanishes, his jaw tightens, and his pupils darken, a silent storm brewing beneath the surface. A vein pulses at his temple. I know I’ve struck a nerve. Faster than I can blink, he’s in my space again, and this time, there’s nowhere to go. His hand circles my throat, big enough to encase it completely, his grip firm. With a push, my back meets the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating off him. His fingers press just enough to make me gasp, applying pressure but not enough to steal my air. The champagne flute in my hand tilts, the golden liquid nearly spilling over the rim.
“From this moment forward, you’re mine, Harlow. Every breath, every thought, belongs to me. No man will touch you.”
His voice is a growl, his grip tightening, stealing my breath, his presence suffocating.
“Your attention is mine alone,”
he whispers, his lips grazing my ear.
“I’ll leave a trail of dead bodies in my wake for anyone who dares to touch what’s mine. If you want that blood on your conscience, feel free to indulge.”
His thumb presses against my pulse, feeling the frantic rhythm beneath my skin. I don’t look away. I won’t.
A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his lips before he releases me, stepping back, adjusting his suit like nothing happened. Without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, champagne still in hand, my breath uneven.
What the fuck just happened?
***
The rest of the evening passes in a hazy blur.
As we depart the restaurant, I press a gentle kiss to my grandfather’s cheek before turning toward Michael.
“I’ll see you at the wedding.”
I murmur, the words surreal as they slip from my lips.
The event is merely days away.
Five, to be precise.
The urgency feels entirely unjustified, yet my opinion appears inconsequential, a fact that irks me beyond measure.
I approach my father and brothers, offering my farewells, each exchange weighted more heavily than I anticipated. Darion's eyes linger on mine, assessing me quietly.
“Are you certain you don’t wish to stay at our estate?”
His tone remains deceptively casual, though an undertone of tension is evident.
“It feels as though we’ve only just found you, yet we’re already losing you again.”
A peculiar tightness grips my chest, but I swiftly suppress it.
“Yes, I'd prefer to spend these last few days at my apartment, alone, if you don't mind.”
Giovanni steps forward, his expression inscrutable yet softened by quiet sincerity.
“I hope you’ll visit us while you're still in Palermo. We have a few days remaining before the wedding, and I’d like to take advantage of that time.”
I nod, forcing a delicate smile.
“I will. I promise.”
Niccolò moves in, enveloping me in a firm embrace, holding me for just a heartbeat longer than expected, before he steps back, leaving a lingering warmth behind.
I glance past him, catching the way Giovanni’s eyes narrow as he looks at Dante. They exchange a silent conversation, one I don’t quite understand, one that, if I had to guess, is some kind of unspoken warning.
Dante, of course, remains utterly composed.
Enzo clears his throat, shifting the tension.
“I’ll take you home,”
he offers.
“I’ll have a valet bring the car around.”
Before I can answer, Dante speaks.
“That won’t be necessary.”
His voice is final. Enzo’s eyes narrow slightly, but Dante doesn’t waver.
“I’ll see that my fiancée gets home safely.”
He exhales a quiet, humourless chuckle before adding under his breath.
“If you can even call that apartment a fucking home.”
I don’t miss the way he glances at me when he says it. Tension stretches between him and my brothers, but it’s Dante who wins. Without waiting for further argument, he reaches out, pressing a firm hand against the small of my back and guiding me toward the valet station.
He tosses his keys to the young man standing there, but when the valet’s eyes flick to me, Dante’s expression turns lethal.
“Bring the fucking car and stop gawking at my fiancée.”
He growls lethally.
“Unless you have a death wish, I suggest you move, now.”
The valet stiffens, his throat bobbing as he nods quickly and rushes away. Dante watches him for a beat, then turns his attention back to me. The tension between us simmers like a slow-burning flame, and I wonder if he can feel it too.
I hate him.
I hate that he’s in control.
I hate that he’s won.
But most of all, I hate the way he makes me feel.
The car pulls up. Dante opens the door for me, his gaze heavy. I slide inside without a word, my pulse still uneven, my mind still racing. He follows, settling into the driver’s seat. Behind him, his men slip into their respective vehicles, ready to trail us to my apartment. Silence fills the space between us as we pull away, the city lights flickering past in a blur.
The night may be over.
But something tells me this is only the beginning.