3RD PERSON'S POINT OF VIEW
The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the open kitchen, warm and comforting, though the mood inside the estate was anything but.
Dante leaned against the counter, hands wrapped around his mug, watching the steam curl upward.
Alessandro sat on the couch, knees bent, his eyes scanning the yellowed notebooks of his parents, flipping pages with precision. He was searching for anything-anything-that could relate to the warning the French man had left behind.
The calm was broken by the soft, rhythmic click of footsteps. Zola strolled past them, hair tied neatly in a ponytail, an orange sundress swaying around her knees. She paused, twirling once on the polished floor.
"How do I look?" she asked, spinning again with a grin that could light up the room.
Dante smirked, giving her a slow, appreciative look. "Ten outta ten," he said, voice casual, eyes lingering a second too long on her exposed legs.
Alessandro's sharp gaze lifted from the notebooks. "Where are you going?" His voice was calm, measured-but the weight behind it made the words heavy.
Zola tilted her chin, putting on a mock pout. "Out."
"To where?"
"Palio di Siena. I want to watch it live," she answered, brushing past him.
"No."
Zola's eyes narrowed. "No? No, I'm not accepting a 'no'."
Dante, leaning lazily on the counter, didn't intervene. He just sipped his coffee, amused by her fire.
"You can't stop me." Zola took a step toward the front door-then Aless pulled her back effortlessly. His grip wasn't harsh, but it was firm enough to make her feel restrained.
"A no is no. You are not going anywhere. It's too dangerous," Alessandro said, his voice carrying the kind of commanding weight he used at work.
Zola huffed. "Oh please. The crime rates have reduced by twenty percent, leaving a 0.48 probability that I'll be a victim of any crime. I've done my research." She squirmed to get free, but Aless tightened his grip just slightly, enough to sting.
"You don't understand," he said, softer now, but still firm. "For your own safety... don't go out."
Those words, it annoyed her.
"You keep saying that!" Zola snapped, struggling against him. "When will I get safe?! You can't keep me here forever! I have a life too! I'm not some video game character you control! I am Zolani Moretti, a strong, independent woman, and I have the right to move freely! I-"
"Stop! Just stop." Alessandro pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing for a brief second in frustration. When he opened them, the intensity was back.
"Go to your room."
Zola's lips pressed into a tight line. She spun on her heel and stormed toward her room, muttering loud enough for him to hear:
"I hate you!"
Dante chuckled quietly, finishing his coffee. "She's going to be fun," he murmured, shaking his head.
Alessandro didn't reply. He just returned to the notebooks, fingers brushing over faded handwriting, thinking about how much danger she didn't even know she was in-and how little choice she truly had.
Zola, meanwhile, slammed her door behind her, tugged at her ponytail, and muttered under her breath. "I hate him. I really hate him."
^^^
Alessandro didn't even look up from the documents in his hands.
"Go check on Zola."
Dante leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.
"She'll probably throw something at me."
"Then dodge."
Dante rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the wall.
"Always sending me into dangerous missions."
Aless didn't respond.
So Dante walked out of the room and down the long hallway of the Moretti estate.
Zola's bedroom door stood out immediately.
While the rest of the mansion followed
Alessandro's dark, elegant taste-polished marble floors, deep wooden doors, and neutral colors-her door was painted a soft blush pink.
Dante knocked once.
No response.
He opened the door anyway.
The room looked exactly how he expected.
Like a princess had taken over a corner of the empire.
Soft pink walls. White furniture with delicate gold handles. A large canopy bed sat in thcentreer of the room, sheer curtains falling around it like something out of a fairytale. Strings of warm fairy lights were wrapped along the headboard, glowing faintly in the daylight.
One side of the room was clearly her creative space. Canvases leaned against the wall-some finished, some only half painted. Paint brushes, palettes, and sketchbooks were scattered across a long desk beside the window.
For someone who constantly complained about being trapped here,
Zola had definitely made the space her own.
And right now, the princess of the room was curled up in the middle of her bed.
Her knees were pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them, her face buried as quiet sniffles escaped her.
Dante leaned against the doorframe.
"Aww," he said, his voice teasing. "Is the Moretti brat crying?"
Zola didn't even lift her head.
"Go away."
"I would," Dante replied lazily as he walked further inside the room, "but your brother sent me here to babysit you until you stop crying."
She raised her head slightly, her green eyes glaring at him through damp lashes.
"I hate you."
"Not the first time I've heard that."
"Then go away."
Ignoring her completely, Dante walked to the bed and sat down on the edge.
The mattress dipped slightly under his weight.
"Why does he even care?" Zola muttered bitterly. "He hates me. I hates me too."
Dante's smirk faded a little.
"He doesn't hate you, Zola."
She looked up at him stubbornly.
"Yes he does. If he loved me, he wouldn't keep me locked in this place."
Dante sighed quietly.
For once, he didn't respond with sarcasm.
Instead, his large hand rested gently on top of her head.
His fingers moved slowly through her soft brown hair, almost absentmindedly.
"Aless loves you more than anything,"
Dante said, his voice surprisingly soft.
"That's exactly why he keeps you here."
Zola frowned.
"That makes no sense."
Dante hesitated.
He couldn't tell her the truth.
Couldn't tell her about the mafia, the enemies.
So he chose his words carefully.
"Your brother has rivals," he said slowly. "People who are jealous of how quickly he rose to the top of the company."
Zola listened quietly.
"And sometimes," Dante continued, "the easiest way to hurt someone powerful is to take away the person they love the most."
His dark eyes met hers.
"You."
Zola blinked.
For a moment she didn't say anything.
Dante studied her face without meanig to.
Why is she always this innocent?
The morning sunlight streamed through the large windows, illuminating her features. Strands of her brown hair had escaped her ponytail, framing her face softly. Her green eyes still shimmered slightly from crying.
Had she always been this beautiful?
Or had he just never noticed?
Without thinking, his hand lifted, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. His fingers lingered for a second before he suddenly pulled his hand away like he'd touched fire.
What the hell are you doing?
That's your best friend's sister.
Your boss's sister.
You don't go there.
Zola crossed her arms, clearly suspicious.
"How do I know you're not lying?"
Dante leaned back slightly, a smirk returning to his lips.
"If someone lies to a goddess," he said dramatically, placing a hand over his chest, "they die."
He leaned closer.
"And you, my dear, are clearly a goddess."
Zola immediately smacked the back of his head.
"Idiot."
But for a brief moment, her eyes sparkled.
Then, the brightness slowly faded.
"Dante?"
"Yes, love?"
Her cheeks flushed slightly at the word.
"You're close to Aless... right?"
"Unfortunately."
Zola hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.
"My birthday is in a few days," she said quietly. "I'll be nineteen."
Dante nodded slowly.
"And?"
"I want to go out," she admitted softly. "Just for one day. Outside the estate."
Dante raised an eyebrow.
"Wow."
She looked at him nervously.
"I'll definitely never forget this moment," he said, clearly amused. "The legendary Moretti brat... begging."
Zola pouted instantly.
God, she looks ridiculous when she does that.
Also dangerously cute.
"I'm serious," she huffed. "My birthday wish is to go out for one day. That's not a joke."
She turned her head away stubbornly, crossing her arms.
Dante watched her for a moment before sighing.
"Fine."
Her head snapped back toward him.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Like really really?"
Dante nodded once.
Before he could even react, Zola suddenly threw her arms around him.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much!"
Dante froze.
Completely.
Why am I reacting like this?
Girls hugged him all the time.
But Zola was hugging him tightly, and for some reason his face felt hot.
He awkwardly patted her back, staring straight ahead like the wall might save him from this situation.
She pulled away a moment later.
"Just so you know," she said, pointing at him, "I still hate you."
Dante chuckled.
"Of course you do."
"Now get out of my room."
"Such hospitality."
He stood up and headed toward the door, shaking his head slightly.
But as he stepped out into the hallway, one thought lingered in his mind.
Zolani Moretti was going to be a problem.
A very dangerous one.
And not just for Alessandro.
For him too.