CHAPTER 2: The Golden case
The De Luca estate was a fortress of limestone and cold glass, hidden behind iron gates that felt more like bars than a boundary. As the black SUV purred up the winding driveway, Elena stared at the violin case gripped in her lap. It was the only piece of her old life Dante had allowed her to bring.
"Welcome home, Elena," Dante said, his voice smooth and devoid of the threat that had saturated his office an hour ago.
He didn't wait for her to respond. He stepped out of the car, and a guard immediately opened her door. Elena followed Dante into a foyer that could have housed a small cathedral. Crystal chandeliers cast sharp, dancing light across the marble floor.
"Marco will show you to your suite," Dante said, gesturing to a tall man with a scarred brow who stood like a statue near the stairs. "Dinner is at eight. Do not be late. I value punctuality as much as I value loyalty."
He turned to leave, but Elena found her voice. "And my father?"
Dante paused, his back to her. "He is alive. For now. Whether he stays that way depends entirely on how well you play your new role."
The "suite" was larger than her entire apartment. It was decorated in shades of cream and gold, overlooking a manicured garden that seemed too peaceful for a man who traded in blood. A silk dress—blood-red and sinfully expensive—lay across the bed with a note: Wear this.
Elena didn't cry. She couldn't afford to. Instead, she took out her violin. The wood was warm beneath her fingers, the only thing in this house that didn't feel like a weapon. She began to play, a haunting, melancholy piece that echoed through the empty halls.
She was so lost in the music she didn't hear the door open.
Dante was leaning against the doorframe, his jacket discarded and his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the dark ink of a tattoo creeping up his neck. For the first time, he didn't look like a Don; he looked like a man who had seen too much.
"You play well," he remarked. The iciness in his eyes had shifted to something more dangerous: obsession.
It's the only thing I have left," Elena replied, lowering the bow.
Dante walked toward her, his presence shrinking the room. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of the violin before moving to her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You have me now, Elena. In this world, that is more than most could ever dream of."
"I didn't ask for this world," she whispered.
"No one asks for the De Luca name," he said, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "But now that you have it, you will find that I protect what is mine with a ferocity that borders on madness."
He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. "Wear the dress, Elena. I want to see you in my colors."