The butler opened the massive oak doors, and Elena stepped into the Romano mansion. Her shoes clicked against the marble floor as her eyes darted around the lavish hall—crystal chandeliers, golden-framed paintings, and men in black suits stationed at every corner.
Her breath hitched when her gaze landed on him.
Dante Romano.
He stood tall in a tailored black suit, his cold grey eyes assessing her like she was nothing more than a business deal. He didn't speak at first. He simply stared, and the silence pressed down on her chest like a weight.
"You're late," Dante finally said, his deep voice filling the room.
Elena's heart skipped. She wasn't late. She had arrived ten minutes early.
"I—I'm sorry, sir," she whispered, lowering her eyes.
"Look at me when you speak."
Her eyes shot up, meeting his. For a moment, she saw something flicker in them—curiosity, maybe. But it was gone as quickly as it came.
"Marco tells me you've worked with children before," Dante said, pouring himself another glass of whiskey though it was barely noon.
"Yes," Elena replied carefully. "In a daycare. And I helped raise my younger brother."
He studied her, taking in her nervous posture and simple dress. Nothing about her screamed 'danger,' but Dante trusted no one.
Before he could question her further, a small voice interrupted.
"Papa!"
Arianna ran into the room, her little bunny in hand. Her curls bounced as she rushed toward Elena, stopping just a few steps away.
The little girl tilted her head.
"You're not going to leave like the others, are you?"
Elena crouched to her level, a soft smile forming despite the tension in the air.
"Not if you don't want me to."
For the first time that morning, Dante's cold stare softened as he watched his daughter's eyes brighten. But behind that softness was a storm brewing. He knew one thing—letting this young woman into his home was dangerous.
What he didn't know yet… was that letting her into his life would be deadly.