Sleep never came.
I tried.
After Dante left the sitting room, I stayed there for a long time staring at the fire until the flames burned low and the room cooled. Eventually one of the staff quietly guided me back to my bedroom, but the moment I lay down, my mind started replaying everything again.
The gunfire.
The shouting.
The smell of smoke.
And Dante's voice telling me to stay close.
I tossed onto my side, then my back again. The silk sheets felt too cold, too smooth. The mansion itself had fallen quiet hours ago, but the silence only made my thoughts louder.
At some point I must have drifted into a shallow sleep.
A knock at my door woke me.
Soft.
Controlled.
Not urgent.
I blinked at the dim light coming through the curtains. Morning had already arrived, pale sunlight spilling into the room.
"Come in," I called, my voice still rough with sleep.
The door opened slowly.
Dante stepped inside.
For a moment, I just stared at him.
He looked exactly the same as he had the night before—composed, controlled, perfectly put together. Dark shirt, sleeves rolled slightly, hair pushed back like he had already been awake for hours.
If not for the faint tension in his eyes, you'd never guess someone had tried to kill him only a few hours ago.
"You're awake," he said.
"Barely."
I pushed myself upright against the pillows, rubbing my eyes.
"What time is it?"
"Late morning."
My eyebrows lifted.
"No one woke me?"
"You needed rest."
Of course he'd decided that for me.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the cool marble floor sending a small shiver through my body.
"How bad was it?" I asked.
Dante didn't pretend not to understand.
"The attack."
He watched me quietly for a second before answering.
"They're gone."
"That's not what I asked."
A flicker of something—maybe approval—passed through his expression.
"Four intruders dead," he said calmly. "Two escaped."
My stomach tightened.
"Will they come back?"
"Yes."
The answer was immediate.
Certain.
Like there had never been any doubt.
"Well," I muttered, "that's comforting."
Dante's lips twitched slightly.
"Fear keeps people alive, Elena."
"I'm already very motivated to stay alive, thanks."
He studied me for a moment longer before nodding toward the door.
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"My office."
That got my attention.
Yesterday I had barely been allowed to wander past the main halls. Now he was inviting me somewhere private?
"Why?"
"You have questions."
He turned toward the door.
"And I'd rather answer them once."
Curiosity won immediately.
"Fine," I said, standing. "Give me five minutes."
The mansion looked completely different in daylight.
If someone had walked in now, they might never guess the chaos that had filled these halls last night.
The broken glass had been cleaned. The bloodstains were gone. The entrance doors had already been replaced.
Everything looked pristine.
Controlled.
Perfect.
It was almost unsettling.
Dante walked beside me through the corridors, his pace steady and purposeful.
I noticed the guards more now.
There had always been security around the mansion, but today there were more. Men stationed at corners. Two standing near the main stairwell. Another at the far hallway entrance.
They all straightened slightly when Dante passed.
Respect.
Fear.
Both.
No one questioned why I was walking beside him.
Eventually we stopped in front of a large wooden door at the far end of the east wing.
Dante pushed it open.
"This," he said simply, "is where I work."
His office was bigger than I expected.
Floor-to-ceiling windows filled one wall, letting sunlight pour across the dark wood floors. A massive desk sat near the center of the room, surrounded by leather chairs. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, documents, and locked cabinets.
But what caught my attention most… were the boards.
Several large boards covered one wall of the office.
Maps.
Photos.
Pinned notes.
Red lines connecting different locations across the city.
My steps slowed.
"This looks like…" I gestured vaguely.
"A war room?" Dante suggested.
"Yes."
"That's accurate."
I moved closer to the boards.
Some of the photographs showed unfamiliar men. Others showed buildings—warehouses, docks, clubs. A few had red marks drawn over them.
"What are these?" I asked quietly.
"Problems."
That was such a Dante answer.
I turned toward him.
"You deal with problems like this every day?"
"Yes."
"And people still think joining the mafia is glamorous," I muttered.
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"No one joins this world because it's glamorous."
"Then why?"
"Power," he said simply. "Money. Survival."
I crossed my arms.
"And which one is it for you?"
For a moment, he didn't answer.
Then he walked to his desk and opened a drawer.
When he turned back, he held a thin folder.
"Come here."
I hesitated.
But curiosity pushed me forward again.
He placed the file on the desk and opened it.
Inside were photographs.
My photographs.
I blinked in confusion.
"Why do you have these?"
Pictures of me leaving work. Walking home. Standing outside a café with friends.
Even one from a grocery store parking lot.
A chill ran through my chest.
"Have you been stalking me?"
"Observing," he corrected calmly.
"That's the same thing!"
"No. Stalking implies obsession."
"Doesn't it?"
His eyes darkened slightly.
"Not in this case."
I flipped through the file quickly.
"How long?"
"Several weeks."
"Several weeks?"
I looked up at him, stunned.
"You've been watching me for weeks before I even met you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Dante leaned against the edge of the desk, arms folding across his chest.
"Because when someone becomes connected to my world, I need to know everything about them."
"So you ran a background check."
"That's putting it lightly."
I stared at him.
"You had my entire life investigated."
"Yes."
"And?"
"And what?"
"What did you find?"
His gaze lingered on my face.
"Nothing."
That surprised me.
"Nothing?"
"No criminal connections. No debts. No suspicious activity."
"Well… sorry to disappoint."
"You didn't."
I frowned slightly.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," Dante said quietly, "you don't belong in this world."
The words landed heavier than I expected.
"I figured that out when people started shooting at us."
"That wasn't supposed to happen."
My eyebrows shot up.
"Really? Because it seemed very planned."
His jaw tightened slightly.
"The attack came sooner than expected."
"So you did expect one."
"Yes."
I stared at him.
"You brought me into a war zone."
His voice remained calm.
"You were already in danger before you came here."
"What?"
He tapped the open file.
"That debt your family owed?"
"Yes?"
"It wasn't just money."
My stomach tightened.
"What do you mean?"
Dante pulled another document from the folder and slid it toward me.
I looked down.
The name printed at the top made my blood run cold.
A rival organization.
The same group that had attacked the mansion.
"They were looking for leverage," Dante said quietly. "And you were the easiest target."
My throat felt dry.
"So if I hadn't come here…"
"They would have taken you."
The room suddenly felt colder.
"You're saying this place is safer?"
"Yes."
I let out a shaky breath.
"That's… a terrifying thought."
"Welcome to my world."
For a moment neither of us spoke.
Then my eyes drifted back to the file.
And something new caught my attention.
A single page at the back.
My name typed across the top.
ELENA ROSSI
I reached for it.
"What's this?"
Dante's hand moved faster.
He closed the folder.
My eyes lifted slowly.
"Dante."
"It's nothing."
"Then why hide it?"
His gaze held mine.
Silent.
Unmoving.
And suddenly I knew.
It wasn't nothing.
Not even close.
"Why is there a file about me?" I asked quietly.
Dante didn't answer immediately.
Instead he pushed the folder aside and straightened.
"That conversation is for another day."
I stepped closer.
"No. It's for now."
His eyes darkened.
"Elena."
"My name is literally on it."
"Yes."
"Then I deserve to know what's inside."
Silence stretched between us.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
Finally, Dante spoke again.
"You're safer not knowing."
That answer only made my curiosity burn stronger.
"What are you hiding?"
His voice dropped lower.
"Something that will make your life far more complicated than it already is."
I held his gaze.
"Too late."
For a second, something unreadable flickered across his face.
Then he turned away, walking toward the window.
The conversation was clearly over.
But as he moved…
The folder remained on the desk.
Still closed.
Still waiting.
And my name was still on it.
ELENA ROSSI.
Whatever secrets Dante Moretti was keeping…
Somehow, I was already part of them.