UNDER HIS SHELTER

Chapter 2

The Vitale estate sat behind iron gates and stone walls that had witnessed a century of blood and power. Tia watched through the car window as they passed armed guards who nodded at Dante without speaking. The house itself was a contradiction, old world architecture wrapped around something darker, windows glowing gold against the night like watching eyes.

"Welcome to my home," Dante said as the car stopped at the entrance. "Try not to bleed on the marble."

"Your hospitality is overwhelming."

He got out and offered his hand. She ignored it and stood on her own, though her legs trembled and pain shot through her ribs with each breath. The adrenaline had fully worn off now, leaving only exhaustion and the bone-deep realization that she'd just climbed into a cage with a predator.

A woman appeared in the doorway. Older, severe, with silver hair pulled into a tight bun and the kind of posture that suggested military training.

"Dr. Marino," Dante said. "My guest needs attention."

"Guest." Dr. Marino's gaze swept over Tia with clinical detachment. "She looks like she lost a fight with a guardrail."

"She did. Along with two men who won't be filing complaints."

The doctor's expression didn't change. "Bring her to the medical room."

Tia followed them inside, taking in marble floors, art that belonged in museums, and an undercurrent of danger that no amount of expensive furniture could hide. Men in dark suits watched from doorways. She counted four, then stopped counting.

The medical room was on the second floor, equipped better than some emergency rooms she'd seen. Dr. Marino pointed to an examination table.

"Sit. Don't move."

Tia sat. Dante leaned against the doorframe, watching.

"You can leave," Tia said to him.

"I could."

"But you won't."

"I'm invested in your survival." His tone was casual, but his eyes tracked every movement Dr. Marino made. "Consider me quality control."

Dr. Marino cut away the torn section of Tia's dress with scissors that looked too sharp to be only for medical use. The gash on her temple required seven stitches. Her ribs were bruised but not broken. Various cuts and contusions were cleaned and dressed with efficiency that suggested she'd done this many times before.

"You're lucky," the doctor said, applying the last bandage. "Another few inches on that head wound and we'd be having a very different conversation."

"Lucky. Right." Tia looked at Dante. "Is she always this cheerful?"

"Dr. Marino saved my life twice. She's earned the right to whatever disposition she prefers." He pushed off the doorframe. "Are we finished?"

"For now. She needs rest, painkillers, and someone to wake her every few hours in case of concussion." Dr. Marino packed up her supplies. "And she needs to eat something before the medication."

"I'll handle it."

The doctor left. Dante gestured for Tia to follow.

"Can I walk, or am I being escorted?"

"You're free to walk. You're just not free to leave."

"Semantics."

"Details matter in my world, Miss Harrington. You'd do well to remember that."

He led her down a hallway lined with portraits of stern-faced men who all shared Dante's dark eyes and sharp features. The Vitale legacy, preserved in oil and judgment.

"Your ancestors look thrilled," Tia observed.

"They built an empire from nothing. Thrilled wasn't in their vocabulary." He stopped at a door and opened it. "Your room."

The suite was bigger than her apartment at university had been. Four-poster bed, sitting area, massive windows overlooking the grounds. The kind of luxury that was also a reminder. he could afford to give her this because he owned so much more.

"The bathroom is through there. You'll find clothes in the closet, all your size." He registered her surprise. "I made a call from the car. My people are efficient."

"Efficient. Is that what we're calling breaking and entering to steal my measurements?"

"No breaking required. I have someone at every major department store in the city." He moved to the window, looked out at the grounds. "Your fiancé will have discovered your absence by now. He'll be searching. The crash site will tell him you survived, and Marcus's body will tell him someone interfered."

"Will he know it was you?"

"Eventually. Julian Blackwell isn't stupid, just arrogant." Dante turned back to her. "Which is why we need to move fast. I want everything you know about his deal with Kozlov. Every conversation you overheard, every document you saw, every suspicion you had before tonight."

Tia crossed her arms despite the pain it caused. "I agreed to tell you. I didn't agree to be interrogated at midnight while I'm bleeding through bandages."

"You're not bleeding through the bandages. Dr. Marino is better than that."

"You know what I mean."

He studied her for a long moment. "You're exhausted, in pain, and surrounded by armed men in a house you can't leave. Most people would be more cooperative."

"I'm not most people."

"No. You're not." Something shifted in his expression, almost like respect. "Fine. We'll talk in the morning. Food will be brought up shortly. Eat it, take the medication, get some sleep."

He moved toward the door.

"Dante."

He paused, hand on the doorframe. It was the first time she'd used his first name.

"Why did you help me? You said Julian's deal interests you, but you shot two men before you knew what I could offer. Why?"

The silence stretched between them.

"I was on that road to kill Marcus Vance myself," he finally said. "He's been skimming from one of my operations for six months. I was going to make an example of him." His gaze locked with hers. "You running into my revenge was convenient timing. Nothing more."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I expect you to be smart enough not to romanticize what I am." He opened the door. "I'm not a hero, Miss Harrington. I'm a killer who happened to have aligned interests with your survival. Don't forget that."

He left, the door closing with a soft click that somehow sounded like a lock engaging.

Tia sat on the edge of the bed, her hands finally shaking now that she was alone. The room was beautiful and suffocating. Safe and trapped. She'd escaped one prison just to walk into another.

A knock came fifteen minutes later. A young woman entered with a tray, soup, bread, water, and a small bottle of pills.

"Mr. Vitale said you're to eat everything and take two of these." The girl set the tray down and hurried out before Tia could respond.

Everyone here moved like that. Fast, efficient, afraid to linger.

Tia ate because she needed strength, not because she had appetite. The soup was good. The bread was fresh. The pills were exactly what Dr. Marino had prescribed, which she knew because she'd spent summers interning at Harrington Pharmaceuticals.

She took the medication and lay down on the bed, still wearing the remains of her engagement dress because changing felt like too much effort.

Through the window, the grounds spread out in manicured perfection. Somewhere beyond those walls was her family, her company, her life. Julian would be spinning the story by now. Poor Celestia, unstable and jealous, ran off into the night. So tragic. So concerning.

Her phone was gone, destroyed in the crash or confiscated. She had no way to contact her father, her friends, anyone. For all they knew, she was dead.

Maybe that was better. Let Julian think he'd won. Let him feel safe.

Tia closed her eyes and saw Dante's face in the darkness. Not a hero, he'd said. Just a killer with aligned interests.

She could work with that.

The pills pulled her down into sleep, and she dreamed of engagement parties and gunshots, of white dresses stained with blood, of dark eyes that saw too much and promised nothing but survival.

When she woke three hours later to Dr. Marino checking her pupils with a penlight, she didn't scream. She just stared at the ceiling and thought about revenge.

"Good," the doctor said. "You're responsive. Go back to sleep."

"Does he always have people watched while they sleep?"

"Only the ones worth watching." Dr. Marino moved to the door. "And Miss Harrington? Whatever you're planning, remember that he's always three steps ahead. It's how he's survived this long."

The door closed. Tia lay in the darkness and smiled.

Three steps ahead meant he could be outmaneuvered. You just had to think four steps further.

She'd been trained since birth to run a pharmaceutical empire. Strategy, negotiation, and calculated risk were in her blood.

Dante Vitale had saved her life. Now she was going to make sure he didn't regret it.

Or maybe she'd make sure he did. She hadn't decided yet.

Outside, the guards changed shifts. Inside, Tia Harrington began to plan.