He didn't answer. Instead, his hand came up, and I flinched, but he only tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture was almost gentle, almost caring, which somehow terrified me more than violence would have.
"You're going to stay here," he said quietly. "You're going to eat what I provide. You're going to rest. And you're going to stop fighting me, because fighting is exhausting, and you're going to need your strength."
"For what?"
His eyes searched mine, and for a moment I saw something in them that wasn't calculation. Something raw. Something almost like hunger.
"To decide what comes next," he said.
He stepped back, and I realized I'd been holding my breath. I forced myself to breathe, my eyes tracking him as he moved toward the door.
"I can't keep you locked in here forever," he continued, his hand on the door handle. "Eventually, I'll have to let you out. Eventually, you'll have choices. But right now? Right now you stay here until you understand one thing."
"What?"
"You're safer here. With me. Than anywhere else in this city."
He left before I could respond, the door locking behind him with a soft, final click.
I slid down the closet door and sat on the marble floor, the dress I’d thrown on quickly after waking pooling around me like I was drowningon dry land. My hands were shaking. My mind was racing. And somewhere underneath the fear and rage and disbelief, something I didn't want to acknowledge was stirring to life.
Curiosity.
He'd known my name before I knew his. He'd been watching me long enough to anticipate my father's plans. He'd killed my fiancé and extracted me from danger in what must have been a coordinated operation. And he was keeping me locked in a beautiful room in the sky, cutting me off from everyone and everything I'd ever known.
I should have been terrified.
And I was.
But I was also, against every rational thought my brain could produce, wondering what came next.
CHAPTER 5
Dante
Ipoured two fingers of bourbon in the study and watched the amber liquid catch the lamplight. Twenty-four hours since I'd extracted Julietta Altieri from that hotel suite. She’d slept for ten, paced the penthouse after our conversation like a caged panther, cataloging every lock and exit.
Twenty-four hours of pretending I'd done this for strategy. Even though taking her wasn’t part of the original plan.
The lie tasted worse than the bourbon.
Vince had called twice already, asking about next steps. Marco wanted to know if we were leveraging her for territory or ransom. Even Sal—who knew better than to question me—had sent a text asking what the endgame looked like.
I didn't have an answer.
Because the truth was, I'd torpedoed a cartel alliance, assassinated a prince, and kidnapped a mafia princess for one reason: I couldn't stomach the thought of her belonging to anyone else.
Obsession wore a thousand masks, but beneath them all, it was just hunger.
It was just after noon. I finished the bourbon and set the glass down harder than necessary. The crystal rang out like a bell in the silence. Somewhere down the hall, I heard water running. She was in the shower again—third time today. Trying to wash away the memory of Miguel's blood. Trying to wash away me.
Good luck with that, princess.
My phone buzzed. Another message from Vince.
Lorenzo's put a bounty on her. Two million. Word's spreading fast.
I typed back:Let it spread. No one touches her.
