I woke to screaming.
My eyes flew open in the darkness, heart pounding, unsure where I was for a terrifying moment. Then reality crashed back the mansion, Dante, my new prison.
The screaming came again. Male voices shouting in Italian, angry and desperate. Then a gunshot that made me bolt upright in bed.
Oh God. Was someone attacking the house? Were we under siege?
I scrambled out of bed and pressed myself against the wall by the window, trying to see the gardens below. But it was too dark, and the screaming was coming from inside the house, not outside.
Another gunshot. Then silence.
The kind of silence that follows death.
I stood frozen, my whole body shaking, when my bedroom door burst open. I screamed, but it was Rosa, her face pale and tight with worry.
"Quickly, child. Mr. Moretti wants you in his office. Now."
"What's happening? Who was screaming?"
"Questions later. Move." She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hallway.
The house was in controlled chaos. Men in suits rushed past with guns drawn. The beautiful, peaceful mansion from yesterday had transformed into something out of an action movie.
Rosa dragged me down the stairs and through hallways I didn't recognize until we reached a door guarded by two massive men with assault rifles.
"Miss Martinez for Mr. Moretti," Rosa said.
They opened the door immediately.
Dante's office was massive dark wood, leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the back gardens. But I barely noticed the décor because my attention locked on the man kneeling in the center of the room.
He was bleeding from his mouth, hands zip-tied behind his back, and he was sobbing in Italian. Begging, by the sound of it.
And standing over him with a gun in his hand was Dante.
He looked different than I'd seen him before. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, revealing more of those tattoos I'd glimpsed at dinner. His hair was disheveled like he'd run his hands through it multiple times. And his eyes…
His eyes were empty. Cold. The eyes of a man about to kill without hesitation or remorse.
"Isabella." His voice was calm despite the violence of the scene. "Come here."
"I don't I shouldn't" I couldn't form words, couldn't process what I was seeing.
"Now." Not a request. A command.
My feet moved on autopilot until I stood beside Dante, my eyes locked on the crying man at our feet.
"This is Marco," Dante said conversationally, like we were being introduced at a dinner party. "He worked for me for three years. I trusted him. Paid him well. Protected his family." He pressed the gun to Marco's head, making the man sob harder. "And tonight, I discovered he's been feeding information to the Volkov family. The Russians. My enemies."
"Please, Mr. Moretti," Marco begged in accented English. "Please, they have my daughter! They said they would kill her if I didn't"
"They don't have your daughter." Dante's voice was ice. "I sent men to check. She's fine. Safe at your sister's house in Queens. You're just a greedy bastard who thought you could play both sides."
"No! No, I swear"
The gun pressed harder. "Don't lie to me. I had your phone records pulled. Bank accounts traced. You've been selling me out for six months. All for money, not to save your family."
I should have looked away. Should have run from the room. But I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, transfixed by the casual brutality unfolding before me.
"Why am I here?" I whispered to Dante. "Why did you want me to see this?"
"Because you need to understand who I am, Isabella." He finally looked at me, those grey eyes bottomless. "You need to see what happens to people who betray me. What happens in my world."
"You're going to kill him."
"Yes."
Just one word. No apology. No justification. Just a simple acknowledgment of reality.
"Please!" Marco turned his tear-stained face toward me. "Please, Miss, talk to him! I have children! A wife! Please!"
"Your children will be taken care of," Dante said coldly. "I'm not cruel enough to punish them for your sins. They'll receive your salary for the next year while your wife finds work. But you?" He cocked the gun. "You knew the consequences of betrayal."
"Dante" I found my voice, though it shook. "Don't. Don't do this in front of me."
"Why?" He looked genuinely curious. "Does it frighten you? Disgust you?"
"Both!"
"Good. You should be frightened. You should understand exactly what kind of man I am." He looked back down at Marco. "Any last words?"
"Damn you!" Marco spat. "Damn you to hell, Moretti! I hope you rot for"
The gunshot was deafening in the confined space.
Marco's body crumpled to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. I stared in shock, my ears ringing, my mind unable to process what I'd just witnessed.
Dante had killed a man. Right in front of me. Without hesitation. Without any visible emotion.
"Take care of it," Dante ordered the guards who'd materialized at the door. "The usual way. And send the severance package to his wife with a note about an industrial accident."
"Yes, sir."
They dragged the body away like it was garbage, leaving a blood stain on the expensive rug.
I couldn't stop staring at that stain. Couldn't stop shaking.
"Isabella." Dante's hand on my arm made me flinch violently. "Look at me."
"You killed him." The words came out numb. "You just… you killed him."
"Yes."
"How can you be so calm? How can you just" I couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't articulate the horror of what I'd seen.
"Because this is my world." He guided me to a chair, pushing me down when my legs wouldn't cooperate. "This is what I do. I'm not a good man, Isabella. I've never pretended to be. I'm a killer. A criminal. The kind of man your mother probably warned you about."
"Then why" I looked up at him, tears streaming down my face. "Why did you make me watch? Why force me to see that?"
"Because you need to understand what you've become a part of." He crouched in front of me, forcing me to meet his eyes.
"You think this is just about you being owned? About rules and obedience? No. You're in my world now. My enemies will see you as my weakness. They'll try to use you against me. And I need you to understand the stakes. People die in my world, Isabella. Often. Violently."
"I didn't ask for any of this!"
"No, you didn't. Your father put you here. But here you are." He stood, pouring amber liquid from a crystal decanter. "Drink this."
"I don't want"
"It's not a request." He pressed the glass into my shaking hands. "You're in shock. The alcohol will help."
I drank, more to stop my hands from shaking than because I wanted to. The whiskey burned, but he was right it helped. A little.
"Why didn't you just let me stay in my room?" I asked when I could speak again. "Why make me see that?"
Dante sat on the edge of his desk, studying me with those calculating grey eyes.
"Because I need you to stop thinking of me as a man who might be reasoned with. I need you to understand that escape isn't an option. Not because I'm cruel, but because the alternative to being here, under my protection, is being out there." He gestured toward the window. "Where men like Marco's contacts would torture you for information about me. Where the Volkovs would use you as bait. Where you'd suffer far worse than anything you'll experience in this house."
"You're trying to scare me into compliance."
"I'm trying to show you reality." He poured himself a drink. "Fear is healthy in my world. It keeps you alive. But I also want you to understand something else."
"What?"
"Marco betrayed me. He sold information that could have gotten me killed. That could have gotten you killed, along with everyone else in this house." Dante's voice hardened. "I don't kill innocent people, Isabella. I don't murder for fun. But I also don't tolerate betrayal. In my world, loyalty is everything. Betray that, and there are consequences."
"And what happens if I betray you?"
The question hung in the air between us.