"Ava thought leaving Ethan behind in the shadows would bring peace, but peace had never been promised to someone tangled with the Don. Every step beside Dante felt like walking a tightrope between desire and danger—and tonight, the line between the two would finally blur."
The bruise on Ava's arm had deepened into a dark violet stain.
Every time she caught sight of it in the mirror, her chest tightened — not just from the memory of Ethan's grip, but from the way Dante's eyes had burned when he saw it.
She knew she should hate him. Fear him. Stay away from him.
But instead, she thought of the way he had wrapped his coat around her, his touch gentle after his violence, his voice rough when he said,
No one touches what's mine.
She told herself it was madness. That she was only drawn to him because of the chaos he carried with him.
And yet, when her phone lit up with his name, her face blur with a smile .
Dante:Dinner. Tonight. I'll pick you up at eight.
It wasn't a question. It never was.
Ava stared at the message for a long time before typing back.
Ava:I have work.
Dante:So do I. I'll see you at eight.
She should've refused. But when the black car pulled up outside her building that night, she found herself stepping into it.
The restaurant was one of those places people whispered about — not because of the food, but because of who could afford to eat there.
Dim lighting, velvet booths, walls lined with bottles of wine older than she was.
Dante ordered for both of them, the menu taken from her hands without question.
She froze , but the truth was, she didn't know half of the dishes anyway.
"Why do you keep pulling me into your world?" she asked as their wine arrived.
His eyes lifted from his glass, sharp and unyielding. "Because whether you admit it or not, you're already in it."
Her throat tightened. "I never asked for this."
"You didn't have to." His gaze softened, though his tone stayed firm.
"The moment you walked into that bar, Ava, you were mine."
Her pulse jumped, and she hated herself for the way her body responded.
Dinner passed in a blur — stolen glances, quiet words, the weight of something unspoken between them.
It was only when they left the restaurant that the night shattered.
The valet had just brought Dante's car around when a motorcycle roared past. Too fast. Too close.
A crack split the air.
Gunfire.
Ava screamed as glass exploded across the pavement.
Dante's men were instantly there, guns drawn, shoving her toward cover.
"Get her down!" Dante barked, his body shielding hers as he pressed her behind a concrete pillar.
Her heart hammered as the motorcycle speed away into the night, tires screeching.
Dante swore under his breath, checking her quickly. "Are you hurt?"
Her hands shook as she touched her face.
Tiny cuts from shattered glass, but nothing deeper. "I—I'm fine."
His jaw clenched. "You're not fine. They aimed for you."
Her stomach dropped. "Me?"
His eyes blazed.without saying a word
The ride back wasn't to her apartment. Dante wouldn't hear of it.
"You're coming with me," he said, voice like steel. "Until I find out who sent that message, you don't leave my sight."
"I can't just—"
"You can. You will."
She wanted to fight him, to scream that he couldn't control her life. But the truth was, fear still clawed at her throat, and the image of the motorcycle rider's gun haunted her every blink.
when his car pulled through tall iron gates and up the long drive of a sprawling estate, she didn't protest.
The Moretti mansion was exactly what she expected:
Grand. Imposing. Dangerous in its beauty.
Marble floors, glittering chandeliers, walls hung with art that could buy entire buildings.
But beneath the luxury was a weight she couldn't ignore — the sense that secrets lingered in every corner, that blood had been spilled for every brick.
Dante took her upstairs, past guarded doors and silent men who nodded as he passed.
His hand never left the small of her back, guiding her firmly.
Finally, he stopped at a set of double doors. "This is your room."
"My room?"
His gaze held hers. "You're safe here. No one gets pass my men."
"And what if I don't want to stay?" she shot back, lifting her chin.
His mouth curved into something between a smile and a warning. "Then I'll lock the doors myself."
Her breath caught. "You're insane."
"Maybe," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "But you're still here."
That night, Ava lay in the massive bed, unable to sleep.
Every creak made her flinch, every shadow made her heart pound.
But beneath the fear was something else — a truth she couldn't escape.
She wasn't just caught in Dante's world anymore.
She was trapped in it.
And deep down… part of her didn't want to leave.
"Later that night, as she lay in the massive bed that smelled of him, Ava stared at the ceiling, her heart torn. She had asked Dante to take her home… but what if this place wasn't safety at all? What if it was the very prison she swore she'd never enter?"