"The night was velvet—soft, deceptive, and cloaked in desire. Ava thought she could finally breathe within Dante's arms, his presence wrapping around her like protection. But in the shadows, unseen eyes lingered, venom dripping from every whispered scheme. What she believed to be safety was about to become the most dangerous illusion of all."
The Moretti mansion was quieter than usual after the gala, the echoes of clinking glasses and murmured admiration still lingering in Ava's ears. Her heart hadn't stopped racing since Dante's declaration in front of everyone.
She is mine.
The words replayed in her mind like a mantra, sending shivers through her. Part of her still couldn't believe it. He hadn't just claimed her in private—he had made it public, in front of family, allies, enemies, and Isabella.
Especially Isabella.
The memory of her rival's sharp glare followed Ava all the way back to the suite she now shared with Dante. She slipped off her heels, toes sinking into the thick carpet, and reached for the clasp of her necklace when strong hands stopped her.
Dante's hands.
"You don't move," he murmured against her ear, voice low and rough. "Not tonight."
Ava froze, heat curling through her. "Dante…"
He spun her gently, his dark eyes devouring her. Gone was the controlled, untouchable Don who had stood before the world. Here was the man who burned for her, who wanted only her.
"You have no idea what you did to me tonight," he said, his lips brushing along her jaw. "Watching you walk beside me, seeing every man in that room stare at you, knowing you're mine—" His grip tightened at her waist. "It drove me mad."
Ava's breath caught as his mouth claimed hers.
The kiss was urgent, almost savage, a firestorm of possession and desire. She melted into him, fingers digging into his jacket, his scent surrounding her. The silk of her gown whispered against her skin as his hands roamed, tugging her closer, anchoring her to him.
When he finally tore away, his eyes burned like obsidian. "Say it," he demanded, voice thick with need. "Say you're mine."
Her heart hammered. Her lips trembled. "I'm yours."
A growl of satisfaction rumbled from his chest.
In a blur, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down with a reverence that contrasted the hunger in his eyes. The moonlight spilling through the curtains bathed her in silver, and Dante paused, just for a moment, to look at her.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, as if it were a secret too sacred to share with anyone else.
Then the Don of the Moretti empire claimed her—slow at first, deliberate, drawing out every gasp, every plea. And then harder, fiercer, until Ava felt like the world outside no longer existed, until she could no longer remember her doubts or her fears.
Only him.
Only them.
When it was over, she lay tangled in his arms, her skin slick with sweat, her chest heaving, her heart still racing with the aftershocks of him. Dante's lips brushed her temple as his hand splayed across her stomach, holding her as if even in sleep he refused to let her go.
Ava thought she'd never felt safer.
She was wrong.
The next morning dawned with golden light spilling across the mansion. Ava rose quietly, pulling on a robe as Dante still slept beside her. She padded toward the balcony, needing the air, her mind still swirling from the night before.
But she wasn't alone.
"Quite the performance last night."
The voice cut sharp as a blade.
Ava stiffened, turning. Isabella leaned lazily against the doorframe of the balcony, dressed flawlessly in cream silk, her hair cascading in perfect waves. Her smirk was poison disguised as charm.
"How did you get in here?" Ava asked, tightening the robe around herself.
"Please," Isabella scoffed. "I've known Dante since we were children. There isn't a door in this mansion that isn't open to me." Her gaze swept over Ava, lingering with cruel amusement. "Though I must say, I didn't expect you'd last this long. Usually, he's done with his little distractions by now."
Anger surged, but Ava forced her voice steady. "I'm not one of his distractions."
Isabella's laugh was low, condescending. "Oh, sweetheart. That's what they all say. But men like Dante…" She leaned closer, her perfume cloying. "They always come back to women like me. The ones who know how to survive in his world."
Ava clenched her fists. "You don't know me."
"Oh, I know enough," Isabella purred. "I know you don't belong here. And when you fall—and you will—it'll be spectacular. Because I'll make sure of it."
Her smile widened, but her eyes glittered with venom.
"Enjoy your little fairytale while it lasts, darling. The clock's already ticking."
With that, Isabella turned and glided out, her heels clicking against the marble floor, leaving a trail of unease in her wake.
Ava's chest heaved, fury and insecurity battling inside her. Last night, she had been Dante's chosen. His lover. His equal.
But in Isabella's presence, she felt like an imposter. A fragile thing standing on a fault line.
Still, Ava whispered into the silence, her jaw set: "I won't let you win."
What neither woman knew was that Isabella wasn't done. That confrontation was just the beginning.
Later that day, she made her move.
The trap was simple. Too simple.
A whisper to one of the staff, a slip of a note left for Ava, and a single name written in neat script: Ethan.
Ava's heart lurched when she read it. Her ex.
The note claimed Ethan was waiting for her in the east lounge, desperate to explain himself. Against her better judgment, Ava followed.
Her pulse raced as she opened the door—and there he was.
Ethan.
Smirking, arrogant, too confident for a man who should've been erased from her life.
And waiting in the shadows, watching her walk into Isabella's carefully laid trap.
"As Dante kissed her temple, vowing, "No shadow will ever touch you while I live," Ava's eyes caught a flicker of movement outside the window. A silhouette stood there, watching—waiting. Her blood turned cold. The venomous shadows were closer than she'd ever imagined."