Chapter 10
Harlow
When we pull up in front of my apartment, the street is quiet, the air thick with the remnants of the engagement party still clinging to my skin. But my focus sharpens when I spot Piero and Giorgio already stationed outside, standing with the kind of stillness that comes from being on high alert.
Dante kills the engine, his men exiting their vehicles behind us. Without a word, he steps out, moving with authority. He comes around to my side, opening the door for me, his hand lingering on the frame as I step out.
As we approach the building, my steps slow.
He isn’t leaving.
Dante walks beside me in silence, a shadow at my back as we reach the door. Piero gives a subtle nod and pulls it open, his stance rigid, gaze flickering between us.
“Stay here.”
Dante orders, his voice absolute.
“We won’t be long. Be alert.”
“Yes, boss.”
Piero replies immediately.
My jaw tightens.
“Surely you mean you'll return soon, I have no intention of going anywhere.”
Dante casts a cool glance in my direction.
“You'll pack your things and accompany me. We're leaving for Naples tonight.”
His voice is smooth, but there’s no room for argument.
“I refuse to remain on Ricci territory a moment longer.”
I exhale slowly, struggling to maintain my composure.
“Allow me a few more days, until the wedding, at the very least. You've interfered quite enough already.”
His expression hardens.
“You’ll soon discover that I despise repeating myself, Harlow.”
“Then perhaps you should stop talking.”
His jaw flexes, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he turns and starts up the stairs, forcing me to follow. The closer we get to my apartment, the heavier the air becomes. A prickle of unease creeps down my spine, something unspoken whispering at the edges of my mind.
Something is wrong.
Dante notices my shift in my composure, his steps slowing as we approach the door.
It’s cracked open.
A sliver of darkness stretches beyond the threshold, and my stomach drops.
“I locked it before I left.”
I whisper softly.
Dante's gaze flicks toward me, sharply assessing.
“Are you certain?”
I nod, pulse quickening at the base of my throat.
“I always double-check.”
Without a second thought, Dante pushes the door open, his frame tensing.
“Wait here.”
He instructs sharply before stepping inside, a gun held firmly at his side. He retrieves his phone, swiftly sends a message, and slips it back into his pocket, his gaze methodically scanning the room.
I follow anyway.
Dante senses my presence without looking. His jaw clenches.
“I distinctly told you to stay back.”
I lift my chin adamant.
“I’m not one of your subordinates to stand idly by and obey commands. I’m your fiancée, I reserve the right to defy you.”
He exhales sharply, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he moves forward, scanning the apartment. At first glance, nothing seems out of place. My things are where I left them. The air appears undisturbed, yet an unsettling sensation prickles along my spine.
Did I forget to secure the door?
Impossible. The mere thought feels inherently wrong, I wouldn't overlook such a critical detail.
We approach my bedroom, and the scent assaults me first.
Dense. Metallic.
Blood.
A strangled breath lodges in my throat as I step forward, eyes wide in disbelief.
My bed is soaked, drenched in crimson as though re-enacting the brutality of a murder scene. Blood saturates the sheets, spills onto the plush carpet, seeping deeply into the fibres, staining the floor in gruesome patterns.
And then my gaze lifts to the wall.
A message, violently etched in jagged, chaotic letters, mocks me.
A ring on your finger won’t keep me away.
You’ll be mine, come what may.
Nausea twists viciously within me. The words are sinister, a vile taunt, an unmistakable declaration of possession. My hands clench into tight fists, nails digging painfully into my palms, the sharp sting anchoring me to reality as I desperately struggle for breath.
Blood.
It's everywhere.
The air compresses around me, tightening mercilessly around my ribcage, restricting my lungs until I’m gasping helplessly. My pulse thrashes uncontrollably, darkness edging into my vision.
My lungs refuse to draw air.
“Harlow.”
The voice pierces through the fog, authoritative and unyielding.
“Breathe. Now.”
I attempt to comply, but my body betrays me, lungs defiant, chest rigid.
A shadow of movement shifts into my vision, and a firm, commanding hand tilts my chin upward. Dante’s eyes, intense, dominate my view.
“Look at me,”
he orders quietly, his voice absolute.
“Only at me. Match my breaths.”
I do as instructed, synchronizing each shallow, trembling inhale with his controlled pace. Gradually, my breathing steadies, mirroring his calm rhythm.
His eyes darken, possessive yet strangely comforting, grip unwavering as he murmurs.
“There you are.”
He captures my hand firmly, grounding me in his touch.
“Don’t look around. Keep your eyes solely on mine. We're leaving now.”
Before I can respond, Dante turns sharply toward Piero, his voice authoritative and concise.
“Prepare a bag for her.”
I hadn’t even noticed when the others arrived, yet suddenly the apartment is brimming with Dante’s men, each moving swiftly, purposefully, an organized chaos.
I wrench my hand from his grasp, stepping back.
“I’m not leaving with you.”
His eyes sharpen, cool authority radiating from his gaze.
“I wasn’t asking.”
“I’ve taken care of myself my entire life,”
I retort firmly.
“I have no need for you to play my saviour.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw, irritation momentarily darkening his features.
“We’ll revisit this conversation later. For now, your safety is my only concern.”
“I already told you, I’m not going anywhere with you.”
His eyes narrow dangerously, a silent battle unfolding between us. The tension builds until, abruptly, his expression softens. The irritation dissipates, calm takes its place.
He takes a step backward.
“Very well.”
He says evenly, voice deceptively composed.
“Have it your way.”
He turns on his heel and exits without another word, his men following seamlessly in his wake, vanishing one by one. I remain rooted in place, momentarily stunned by their sudden withdrawal. My gaze involuntarily drifts toward the blood again, lingering on the sinister message scrawled across the wall. A violent shiver rattles through my frame, forcing me to tear my eyes away. I stumble numbly into the living room, fingers tangled in my hair, heart hammering relentlessly in my chest.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
And what exactly just transpired between Dante and me?