I woke to the ghost of a memory, the feeling of Dante's presence in my doorway in the dead of night. The knowledge of what I had overheard—the calm, cold order for a man's death—had chased sleep away, leaving me exhausted and haunted. I dreaded seeing him. How could I look into the eyes of a man who had almost kissed me, knowing those same eyes could watch someone die without flinching?
Steeling myself, I went downstairs, needing the simple, normal act of making coffee. I found him in the kitchen. He wasn't eating or reading the paper. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, waiting. His expression was cold, dangerous, and utterly devoid of the vulnerability I had seen just hours before.
"Sit down, Ella." His voice was like ice.
My stomach plummeted. He knew. I sank into a chair at the kitchen island, my hands trembling in my lap.
"You were outside my office last night," he said. It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.
I could lie, but what was the point? My voice was a raw whisper. "Yes."
A muscle in his jaw clenched. "What did you hear?"
"Enough," I breathed.
The sound that escaped him was a low growl of fury. He slammed his hand down on the marble counter, the sharp crack making me jump out of my skin. He began to pace, a caged predator radiating a lethal energy. "I gave you one rule, Ella. One simple rule. Stay away from my business." He whirled on me. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The danger you put yourself in?"
I was confused. "Danger? From you?"
He stopped, his expression incredulous. "From *them*," he snarled. "From the men in that room. If they knew you heard that conversation, if they thought for one second that you were a liability… I couldn't protect you."
It was the first time he'd admitted it so plainly—that his protection extended to shielding me from his own people. The thought was terrifying.
I pushed my chair back, needing distance. "You were ordering someone's death," I said, my voice shaking. "You talked about it like it was nothing. Like *he* was nothing."
Dante's face hardened into granite. "He betrayed me. He endangered my family, my entire organization. In my world, there are consequences for that."
"You're going to kill him," I whispered, the horror of it washing over me.
"Yes," he said, his honesty more brutal than any lie. He offered no apology, no justification.
A wave of nausea rolled through me. "And you expect me to just live with that? To accept it?"
"I expect you to stay out of it," he bit back.
That was it. The final thread of my composure snapped. The fear, the loneliness, the confusion, the moral disgust—it all came pouring out. "I can't do this anymore!" Tears I had been holding back for weeks began to stream down my face. "I can't live in this house, with your rules, and your secrets, and watch you be a… a monster—"
He took a step toward me, his expression shifting. "Ella—"
"No!" I scrambled backward, away from his touch. "You don't get it! You don't understand anything!" My voice broke, cracking under the weight of it all. "I didn't sign your contract for the money. I didn't do it for a life of luxury." The sobs came now, raw and ragged. "I did it for Mia!"
The name hung in the air between us, a sacred thing in this profane place. Everything poured out of me in a torrent of grief and terror. "She's four years old, Dante. She just lost her father. She's all I have left of my brother. I sold myself to you to keep her safe. To make sure she would never, ever have to know that this world, your world, even exists."
He had stopped advancing, his face a mask of shock as he listened.
"And now," I choked out, "now I'm terrified that being here, being your wife, has put her in more danger than ever. What if Victor finds her? What if one of your enemies uses her to get to you?" I collapsed back into the chair, my body wracked with sobs. "I need to see her. Please. I just need to know she's okay."
The silence that followed was profound. After a long moment, he moved, and then he was kneeling in front of me, for the first time ever making himself physically smaller. His voice, when he spoke, was softer than I had ever heard it. "Why didn't you tell me this was the reason?"
I looked at him through my curtain of tears. "Would it have mattered?"
He reached out, his thumb gently wiping a tear from my cheek. The touch was so unexpected, so tender, it made me gasp. "Yes," he said, his voice thick with an emotion I couldn't name. "It would have." He held my gaze. "You want to see her?" I nodded, unable to speak. "Then you will. Today."
He stood and made the calls. Marco was to arrange a security detail. A neutral location—a public park—was chosen. A car would be ready in an hour. I stared at him, stunned that he had agreed so easily. "Thank you," I whispered.
"Don't thank me," he said, his hand lingering on my face for a moment longer. "Just promise me you'll be careful." He looked deep into my eyes. "I meant what I said, Ella. I protect what's mine."
The drive to the park was a blur of nerves and anticipation. I texted Sarah, the lie about wanting to catch up feeling heavy on my conscience. When we arrived, the guards positioned themselves discreetly before I got out of the car. And then I saw her. My sweet Mia, her little legs pumping as Sarah pushed her on a swing. My heart clenched with a love so fierce it hurt.
"Mia!" I called out, running toward her.
Her head whipped around. "Auntie Ella!" she shrieked with delight, jumping off the swing and running into my arms. I caught her, lifting her up and burying my face in her hair, breathing in the familiar, innocent scent of her strawberry shampoo. This was my anchor. This was my why.
After a few precious moments, I set her down and turned to Sarah, whose face was a mixture of relief and suspicion. "Where have you been?" she asked, hugging me tightly. "You look… different. Expensive." She noticed my shoes—designer flats I'd forgotten to change. "Ella, what's going on? Are you in trouble?"
"No, I promise," I lied, my heart aching. "I got a new job, a private tutor for a very wealthy family. They're just… very particular about security." I gestured vaguely toward a guard in the distance.
Her concern was palpable. "If you need help, Ella, I'm here."
"I know," I said, my throat tight. "Thank you."
I spent the next hour lost in Mia's world of slides and make-believe. I soaked in every giggle, every hug, every nonsensical story. She showed me a drawing she'd made in preschool. "It's you and me and Uncle Adam in heaven," she said proudly. The words shattered my heart into a million pieces. I held her close, promising myself that this beautiful, innocent soul would never know the darkness I lived in.
It was then that I saw it. One of my guards, suddenly tense, speaking into his earpiece. I followed his gaze and saw a black sedan parked across the street, its tinted windows hiding whoever was inside. It hadn't been there before.
The guard was at my side in an instant. "Mrs. Russo, we have to leave. Now."
Panic seized me. "What's wrong?"
"Possible surveillance. The boss's orders."
It was a rushed, frantic goodbye. I hugged Mia desperately, fighting back tears as she asked when she would see me again. Sarah was calling my name, her voice filled with confusion and fear, as the guard hurried me toward the car.
We sped away, and my worst fears were confirmed when I looked back and saw the black car pull out, following us. "We've been made," Marco said into his phone. "En route, possible tail."
"Did they see Mia?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Do they know about her?"
"We'll make sure she's protected," Marco said, his voice grim as he executed a sharp turn, trying to lose them.
When we finally arrived back at the mansion, Dante was waiting outside. He strode to the car and pulled my door open, his eyes searching mine. "Are you hurt?"
"No," I gasped, "but Mia, they saw her—"
"It's handled," he said, his voice a low growl. "I already have a team watching Sarah's house. They're safe." The relief was so overwhelming that my legs gave out. I collapsed against him, and for the first time, he didn't hesitate. His arms came around me, holding me tight in a real, solid embrace. "This is my fault," he murmured into my hair. "I never should have let you go."
In his office, Marco confirmed it. "It was Victor's men. They were confirming you have family."
Dante's fury was a palpable force in the room. "Increase security on Sarah's residence to 24/7. If anyone gets within a hundred feet of that child…" He didn't need to finish the threat. He turned to me. "This changes things, Ella. Victor knows your weakness now. He'll use it."
"Then end this!" I pleaded. "Divorce me, let me go—"
"No," he said, his voice absolute. "Running makes you vulnerable. You stay here. Under my protection." He looked at me, his gaze intense. "Because they matter to you. And you matter to me."
The explicit admission stole the air from my lungs. Just then, his personal cell phone rang, an unknown number flashing on the screen. He answered it, putting it on speaker. "Russo."
A smooth, chilling voice I had never heard before filled the room. "Dante. A pleasure. Congratulations on your marriage."
Dante's hand clenched into a fist. "What do you want, Victor?"
"Just calling to say hello to your lovely new wife," Victor Conti purred. "I saw her today. At the park. With the child." My heart stopped. "Such a precious little girl. What was her name again? Mia?"
Dante's voice was lethal. "If you touch one hair on her head, I will burn your entire world to the ground."
Victor laughed, a sound devoid of all humor. "So protective. I love it. Here's the deal, Dante. You have something I want—the territory in the east docks. Sign it over to me, and the girl stays safe. Refuse… well, accidents happen to children all the time, don't they?"
"You have twenty-four hours to disappear, Victor," Dante snarled. "Or I come for you."
"Wrong answer," Victor said cheerfully. "You have forty-eight hours to decide. The docks, or the girl. Choose wisely." He hung up.
The silence in the room was deafening. I couldn't breathe. "He threatened Mia. He actually—"
Dante pulled me into his arms, his embrace fierce. "He will not touch her."
I looked up at him, my eyes wide with terror. "How can you stop him?"
His eyes were cold, determined, and utterly deadly. "By doing what I do best." He was going to war. For me.
"Boss," Marco said, his voice grim. "We should move on him tonight."
"Agreed," Dante said. "Assemble the team." He turned back to me, his hands cupping my face. "Go to your room. Lock the door. And do not come out until I return."
"Where are you going?" I whispered.
"To end this," he said. Then he leaned down and pressed a firm, desperate kiss to my forehead. "Trust me." He turned and left with Marco, his purpose radiating from him like a wave of heat.
I stood alone in his office, my hand pressed to my forehead where his lips had been. I heard the roar of engines as a convoy of black cars sped away from the mansion, carrying Dante into the night. I came here to save Mia. But somewhere between the contract and the cage, the monster and the man, I had fallen into something deeper and more dangerous than debt. Dante was going to war. And when he came back—if he came back—everything would change. Because Victor Conti had made one fatal mistake: he had threatened what belonged to the devil. And now, hell was coming for him.