The silence didn’t last.
Mia entered.Her hair was still damp from the shower, loose waves spilling down her shoulders.Everything in me would rather take her upstairs and ravage her, but duty calls.Someone was trying to fuck with my legacy… someone who didn’t deserve it in the first place.It was time to put a stop to all this nonsense once and for all.
“I thought I told you to stay out of sight.”
“You did.”She stepped closer.“I ignored you.”
“You’re getting good at that.”I crossed the space between us.“This isn’t your war.”
“Isn’t it?”Her eyes lifted to mine — that quiet defiance that had always made me feel more human than I should.“Your enemies keep sending their ghosts.I was kidnapped for fucks sake.Please, dear husband, tell me how this isn’t my war?”
“You think I don’t know that?That night I thought I was going to lose you… after waiting so long to finally have you by my side.The sheer fucking rage that took over my body… my love.You don’t need to get caught up in matters like this.I can’t let anything like that happen to you again.”
“Then stop pretending like I’m some damsel in distress.I can handle myself.”
The words landed harder than she could have known.I reached out, fingers brushing her jaw.“If I bring you with me, he’ll use you.”
“And if you go alone,” she whispered, “he’ll kill you.”
There it was — no dramatics, no tremor, just truth, clean and heavy.I could’ve kissed her then — and nearly did — but I stopped myself an inch short.“You know what happens if he thinks he’s found my weakness.”
Her voice softened.“Then don’t let him think.Let him know.It’s nothing new.Most men have known for years.We both knew marrying anyone from our families poses a threat.Especially as collateral.Yet, they have no idea the lengths my husband will go to keep me safe.Right, my love?”
That almost broke something in me I didn’t have time to name.I stepped back before I could change my mind.“Lock the house.If I don’t come back?—”
“Don’t.”Her chin lifted.“Don’t finish that sentence.You better come back to me.”
I turned before it could suffocate us both.
The drive to the Gallo estate took thirty-seven minutes.The gate at the end of the gravel road had been forced open long ago, iron twisted in on itself.Beyond it, the mansion waited — a carcass of marble and ivy, windows hollowed out, columns leaning like drunks at confession.
Inside, the grand hall was lit.That alone was enough to make my pulse slow.Dozens of candles lined the long dining table, their flames bending slightly in the draft.Every place was set — silver tarnished but polished to duty, glasses gleaming, a roast left untouched.At the head of the table sat Dante Gallo.
He was younger than I expected.Mid-thirties, maybe.Immaculately dressed in black-on-black, his hair slicked back.A scar curved along his left cheek, thin as a thread but deep enough to have mattered once.
“Enrico Di Fiore.You’re punctual.Your father would’ve admired that.”
I didn’t answer.I moved to the opposite end of the table and stood.
“You’re wondering why I chose this place.”He gestured with an empty wine glass.“Because it’s where they decided we’d never be friends.”
“Is that what you want?”Friendship?”
“I wantbalance,” Dante said.“The kind the old men preached and never practiced.”
He rose, slow, deliberate.“Did your father ever tell you how my mother died?”
I stayed silent.
“He said she drowned herself.”Dante’s lips twitched.“She didn’t.She was shot in the back trying to flee the city the night after Giovanni’s death.Your father’s men.He wanted no loose ends.”
The words were daggers dressed as dialogue.“You’re not here for peace.”
“No.”His smile sharpened.
He picked up a folder from the table and slid it across the polished wood.“You’ll want to see this.”
I didn’t move.
