"But that's bullshit. You know it. I know it." My hand comes up to cup her face. "You stopped being a tool the moment you stood in that apartment and negotiated terms instead of breaking. The moment you looked at me with fire in your eyes and refused to be afraid. The moment you made me laugh when I didn't think I remembered how."
"Dante—"
"You make me want things I thought died with my mother. Hope. Family. A future that isn't just survival and revenge and proving I'm not my father. A future where I come home to someone who sees the worst parts of me and loves me anyway." My thumb brushes her cheekbone. "You make me believe time is worth something again. That the years I have left aren't just about building power or protecting territory or maintaining control."
Tears slide down her cheeks.
"I know it's complicated. I know Caterina is still threatening us with your past. I know Matteo gave me two weeks and half of them are already gone. I know my father is working against us and marrying you could cost me my position. My reputation. Everything I've spent a decade building." I press my forehead to hers. "But losing you would cost me more. It would cost me the only thing that actually matters."
She kisses me.
Soft at first. Then desperate. Like she's trying to say everything she can't put into words.
When we finally break apart, she's crying.
"I love you too," she whispers. "Even though you infuriate me. Even though you make decisions without asking. Even though your world is violent and dangerous and everything I should run from."
"But you're not running."
"No, we're both done running."
I kiss her again. Slower this time. Taking my time. Making promises with my mouth that I'll spend the rest of my life keeping.
When we finally go inside, I put the watch back in my pocket.
But I don't hide it away anymore. Don't shove it to the bottom of a drawer and try to forget it exists.
Because she's right.
Time is all we have. Every second. Every heartbeat. Every moment we choose to live instead of just survive.
And I'm going to spend mine loving her.
Two hours later, I leave Bianca at home with Marco and three other guards stationed around the property. She argues—of course she argues—but I silence her with a kiss and a promise that I'll be back before midnight.
"Where are you going?" she asks.
"To handle the problem."
"Dante—"
"Trust me." I cup her face. "I'll take care of this. All of it."
She searches my eyes for a long moment. Then nods.
Good girl.
The meeting takes place in a warehouse I own near the docks. Neutral enough for the Bellandis to agree, controlled enough that I dictate terms.
The uncle—Carlo Bellandi, Massimo's younger brother—arrives with two soldiers. Both armed and watching me like I might pull a weapon at any second.
They're not wrong to be careful.
I bring Enzo and Rafe. Both stand behind me, silent and lethal. A reminder that I don't come alone and touching me means war with Matteo's entire family.
Carlo sits across from me at a metal table. He's in his fifties, hair slicked back, expensive suit that screams old money. His eyes are cold. Calculating. The kind of man who sees people as assets or obstacles.
"Mr. Vitale." He lights a cigar without asking permission. "Thank you for agreeing to meet."
