The Romano mansion was wrapped in silence after the attack, but inside, tension hummed like a loaded gun. Guards patrolled every corridor, weapons visible. No one was allowed near Arianna without Dante's approval.
But trouble always brewed closer than expected.
Marco stepped into the study, face grim. "Boss… we've confirmed it. The traitor wasn't just one of the men in the cellar. Someone in your inner circle fed them intel."
Dante's jaw locked, his fingers tightening around his glass of whiskey.
"Who?"
Marco hesitated. "…Gianni. He's been with us for years, but the money was too tempting. He sold your schedules. He gave them the nanny's name."
The room grew deathly still. Gianni was family. Or so Dante thought.
"Bring him to me," Dante said coldly. His voice carried the kind of finality that made even Marco flinch.
---
Meanwhile, Elena was upstairs with Arianna, helping her braid her doll's hair. But her thoughts were far away. The look in Dante's eyes earlier—when he said she mattered—echoed in her mind.
She didn't belong in his world of guns and blood. Yet every time Arianna smiled at her, and every time Dante's gaze lingered on her longer than it should… she felt herself sinking deeper.
The door opened without warning. Dante stood there, his shirt sleeves rolled, tension radiating off him like fire.
"Come," he ordered.
Elena frowned. "Where?"
"To see what betrayal looks like."
---
In the basement, Gianni was bound to a chair, bruised and bloody. He spat when Dante entered.
"You think you're untouchable, Romano. But every king falls. They'll take the girl, and the nanny too, and—"
CRACK! Dante's fist silenced him, blood spraying across the floor.
Elena gasped, stepping back, but Dante's voice was a blade.
"You spoke her name. You put a target on my daughter. For that—you'll die slowly."
Gianni laughed weakly through bloodied teeth. "So it's true… the Boss is finally weak. All because of a woman."
Elena froze. Dante's eyes flickered to her, storm-grey, unreadable. For a moment, the world held its breath.
Then, without hesitation, Dante fired. Gianni slumped lifeless in the chair.
Elena's heart pounded, shock rippling through her. But when Dante turned to her, stepping close, his voice was low, dangerous—yet vulnerable.
"You see now?" he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "This is the world you stepped into. Blood. Loyalty. Betrayal. And yet—you're still here."
Elena's lips trembled. "Because of Arianna. Because she needs me."
His hand brushed her cheek, rough and hesitant, the gunpowder scent of him filling her lungs. "Don't lie to me, Elena. She's not the only reason."
Her heart hammered as his thumb lingered against her skin. For once, she didn't look away. "And what if she's not?"
The space between them vanished. His mouth claimed hers in a hard, desperate kiss—years of restraint and fury igniting at once. Elena's knees nearly buckled, but his grip on her waist held her steady.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, reality slammed back. Dante's walls snapped up, his voice harsh.
"This can't happen again."
But the way his eyes lingered on her lips said otherwise.
---
Upstairs, Arianna was waiting with her doll, unaware of the storm brewing below. When Elena returned, her heart still racing, the little girl beamed.
"Papa looks happier when you're around," Arianna said innocently.
Elena swallowed hard, her lips still tingling from the kiss. "Does he?"
The child nodded. "Maybe you should stay forever."
Elena froze.
Forever.
The word was dangerous. And yet, for the first time… it didn't sound impossible.
---