Collateral Kiss

The Rossi house always smelled of worry.

Old bills hid inside drawers, and the sound of her father’s pacing filled the small rooms. Emilia Rossi had grown up knowing what it meant to struggle — but she never thought her father’s weakness would one day cost her freedom.

It was raining that night.

Thunder rolled over the sky, shaking the thin windows of their tiny home. The kitchen light flickered as her father sat at the table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey beside him. His eyes looked dull, like someone who had already lost everything.

“Papa?” Emilia asked softly, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. He stared at the table, hands shaking. The sight made her heart squeeze. She had seen him broken before, but not like this.

Finally, he whispered, “I made a mistake I can’t fix.”

Her breath caught. “What kind of mistake?”

He rubbed his face with trembling fingers. “A loan. I thought I could pay it back. But— His voice broke off.

Her chest tightened. “How much?”

When he said the number, Emilia’s body went cold.

It was too big. No bank would lend that much. Which meant only one thing.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You went to them, didn’t you? The Moretti family.”

He looked away, shame filling his eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to save the house. I thought I could double it—”

“Double it?” she snapped. “By gambling? Papa, do you even know who you’re dealing with?”

The name Moretti made her shiver. Everyone in the city knew that name.

Dante Moretti — the billionaire businessman in public, but behind the scenes, the most feared man in the underworld. He controlled half of the city. He was cold, powerful, and merciless. And now her father owed him money.

Emilia’s head spun. “How could you do this?”

Before he could answer, a loud knock hit the door.

It wasn’t a gentle knock. It was the kind that made her skin crawl.

Her father’s shoulders slumped. “It’s too late,” he whispered.

The door opened before Emilia could move. A man in a dark suit stepped inside. Rain dripped from his shoulders onto the old floor. His expression was cold, unreadable. His eyes scanned the small room as if it disgusted him.

“Mr. Rossi,” he said, voice deep and hard. “It’s time to pay your debt.”

Her father’s face went pale. “Please, I just need more time—

“Please,” Emilia added quickly, stepping forward. “He’ll pay you back. Just give him a few more weeks.”

The man didn’t reply. His sharp gaze moved to her face and lingered there for a moment. Then he pulled out his phone, said something in Italian, and stepped aside.

A black car stopped in front of their house.

From it stepped a man who made the world around her go silent.

Dante Moretti.

Emilia had seen pictures of him before — newspapers, online stories — but none of them showed the power he carried in person. He was tall, dressed in black, every move calm and controlled. His dark eyes looked like they could see straight through her.

For a moment, she forgot to breathe.

“Mr. Moretti,” her father stammered. “Please, I’ll find a way to repay—”

Dante didn’t look at him. His gaze stayed locked on Emilia. He stepped forward, his expensive shoes quiet on the floor, the rain still glistening on his hair. The air felt heavy. His presence filled the small room.

“And who is this?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

Emilia lifted her chin. “I’m his daughter.”

Something in his eyes changed — a flicker of interest, a spark she couldn’t read.

He tilted his head slightly. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

Her father moved between them. “Please, Mr. Moretti, don’t involve her. This is my fault.”

Dante’s cold stare silenced him instantly. Then he turned back to Emilia.

“Do you know what your father owes me?”

Emilia swallowed hard. “Enough to ruin us.”

A small smile curved his lips. “You’re right.”

Her father dropped his head into his hands, whispering, “I didn’t mean for it to happen…”

Emilia’s heart broke. She had spent her whole life trying to fix his mistakes.

And now, once again, she stood between him and disaster.

She took a deep breath. “If you let him go, take me instead.”

Her father’s head snapped up. “No! Emilia, you don’t understand what you’re saying!”

Dante’s eyes darkened. For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then he took a slow step closer.

“ Would you give yourself to me? He asked quietly.

Emilia’s voice trembled. “If it means saving my father… yes.”

Dante’s gaze ran over her face, sharp and unreadable. Then he reached out, brushed a strand of wet hair from her cheek, and whispered, “Brave. Or foolish.”

His touch sent a strange shiver through her — fear, anger, and something else she didn’t want to name.

He straightened and looked at his men. “The debt is settled,” he said. “She comes with me.”

Her father fell to his knees, voice cracking. “Please! Take me instead!”

Dante didn’t look at him. He simply turned back to Emilia and held out his hand.

His expression was calm, but there was no mercy in his eyes.

Emilia stared at his hand, her heart pounding so hard it hurt.

If she went with him, she would never come back to the life she knew.

But if she refused, her father would be destroyed.

Her throat tightened. Slowly, she placed her hand in his.

Dante’s fingers closed around hers — firm, cold, unyielding. For a brief second, she saw something softer in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“From tonight,” he said, voice like thunder, “you belong to me.”

Her father cried out, “Emilia!”

She turned once, her eyes filled with tears. “It’s okay, Papa,” she whispered. “I’ll be fine.”

But deep inside, she knew nothing would ever be the same again.

As Dante led her out into the rain, the cold drops hit her face like a warning.

The storm outside was nothing compared to the storm waiting in his world.

And Emilia Rossi — the girl who thought she could save her family — was now walking straight into the arms of the devil himself.