Chapter 3. The First Test

Camila’s POV

I had just removed my heels when Lucia called from downstairs.

“Dinner is ready!”

Her voice carried through the quiet mansion.

I looked at the shoes in my hand and rubbed the sore spots on my feet. The heels had looked beautiful with my dress, but after standing through the entire gala, my ankles were aching.

I set the shoes beside the bed and made my way downstairs.

I still did not know these people. I had spent only a few hours inside the Moretti mansion, yet I was already expected to sit at their table as if I belonged there.

As I entered the dining room, I noticed a man sitting at the head of the table. His back was turned toward the doorway, but there was something intimidating about the way he held himself.

He reminded me of my father.

Lucia looked up and smiled. “Camila, this is my husband, Vittorio.”

The man turned his head slightly.

I forced a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Camila.”

I sat beside Lucia, keeping my hands folded in my lap.

Before anyone could speak again, heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway.

Dante entered the dining room with a furious expression.

“Damn Vipers,” he muttered.

He pulled out the chair across from us and sat down. His jaw was tight, and his hands curled into fists on top of the table. He looked like he was trying to control his temper.

Then his eyes shifted toward Lucia.

“Mom, how was your day?”

His voice changed immediately. It was still deep, but the anger had faded from it.

Lucia smiled. “Quiet. I spent most of it resting, like you told me to.”

Dante nodded, though he did not look convinced.

I focused on the food in front of me. I had no idea what to say, and I did not want to draw attention to myself. The tattoos on Dante’s fingers caught my eye. Dark ink covered his knuckles and continued up his hands, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt.

When he moved, I noticed the tattoos stretched all the way up his left arm.

“You brought home a friend,” Vittorio said.

His voice was suddenly loud enough to make me jump.

Dante’s eyes moved toward him.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Vittorio smiled, clearly pleased that he had managed to irritate his son. “You heard me. Who is she?”

Dante’s expression darkened.

“You’re the one who arranged this marriage.”

The room went silent.

Lucia lowered her gaze, while I stared at my plate.

Vittorio leaned back in his chair. “That is no way to speak in front of a guest.”

“She isn’t a guest.”

Dante stood so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor.

“She’s my fiancée.”

The word made my stomach tighten.

Even though I already knew I was supposed to marry him, hearing Dante say it out loud made everything feel more real.

Vittorio looked amused. “You seem thrilled about the arrangement.”

“Keep talking and find out how thrilled I am.”

“Dante,” Lucia warned.

Dante’s hands were clenched at his sides.

He looked at his father with enough anger to make the room feel colder.

Then he turned away and walked out of the dining room.

Lucia released a tired sigh.

“You always provoke him.”

Vittorio picked up his fork. “He gets angry too easily.”

“He is angry because you enjoy making him angry.”

“My son has anger issues, if you haven’t noticed.”

Vittorio looked at me and chuckled, expecting me to laugh with him.

I gave him a small, uncertain smile. “I think he had a difficult evening.”

His amusement disappeared.

“You should be careful,” he said.

My fingers tightened around my fork.

“What does that mean?”

“I might have to call your father and ask him how he taught you to keep quiet.”

Fear moved through me before I could stop it.

“Vittorio,” Lucia snapped.

He only smiled.

“Perhaps I should ask him what he does when you talk back.”

I froze.

He had said it casually, almost playfully, but I knew exactly what he meant. My father’s face flashed through my mind. His hand around my chin. His voice in my ear. The quiet threat of what would happen if I disobeyed him.

I lowered my eyes and said nothing.

A few minutes later, voices echoed from the hallway.

“Get upstairs,” Dante ordered.

A woman’s voice answered softly. “Of course.”

Vittorio glanced toward the doorway.

“Is that another one of his escorts?”

Lucia closed her eyes in disappointment.

I kept my face lowered, pretending not to hear.

The woman entered the hallway a moment later. She wore a short black dress and held her purse against her chest. Her makeup had been ruined by tears.

She looked at me as she passed.

The hatred in her expression made me uncomfortable, even though I had never seen her before.

Lucia pushed her untouched plate away.

“My son and my husband have no respect for women.”

“Leave Dante alone,” Vittorio said. “He is only blowing off steam.”

Lucia stared at him. “You call that an excuse?”

“He respects women.”

Vittorio smirked. “It is the only time he acts like a man.”

He laughed at his own joke.

No one else did.

I was not angry at Dante for bringing another woman into the house. I barely knew him. I could not expect him to change his entire life because of a marriage neither of us had chosen.

It would be unfair to ask him to give up his habits when I had not given up any of mine.

I cleared my throat.

“I have a question.”

Vittorio rested his chin against his hand. “What is it?”

“Can I continue going to school?”

For a moment, no one moved.

Then Vittorio burst into laughter.

Lucia and I stared at him until his laughter slowly faded.

“Oh,” he said, blinking at me. “You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“You want to go to school?”

“I like school.”

I did not tell him the truth.

School was the only place where I could forget my father for a few hours. It was the only place where I could sit among people who did not know my family’s secrets or study every word before I spoke it.

Vittorio picked up his fork and returned to his dinner.

“Fine. Go.”

I blinked. “That’s it?”

“At least we won’t have to see your face all day.”

He chuckled beneath his breath.

Lucia gave him an irritated look. “Ignore him.”

“Thank you,” I said politely.

“You’re welcome, dear.”

I stood from the table.

As I reached the doorway, I heard Vittorio mutter something under his breath, followed by another quiet laugh.

I decided not to respond.

I had barely reached the stairs when I saw the woman from the hallway hurrying toward the front door. Tears still ran down her face. She glanced at me with open hostility before leaving the house.

I stopped on the steps.

What had Dante done to her?

I shook my head and continued upstairs.

“Dante Moretti,” I whispered.

His name felt strange in my mouth.

When I entered my bedroom, I noticed a black leather wallet lying on the center of my bed.

I stared at it.

It was probably Dante’s.

For a few seconds, I considered throwing it into the hallway and pretending I had never seen it. Then curiosity got the better of me.

I picked it up.

It was heavy, filled with cash and several cards. There was enough money inside to make anyone hesitate.

I looked toward the door.

My room was quiet. No one was watching.

Still, the thought of keeping it made my stomach twist.

I sighed and stepped into the hallway.

Dante’s room was the only one with light shining beneath the door. I walked toward it, my grip tightening around the wallet.

I raised my hand and knocked.

“What?”

His voice came through the door, low and irritated.

I slowly pushed it open.

Dante stood near the window with his back turned toward me. He was shirtless, his muscular back exposed beneath the soft light from the room. Tattoos covered his left arm and continued across his shoulder.

He turned when he heard me enter.

His eyes narrowed.

“Camila.”

The way he said my name made it sound unfamiliar and intimate at the same time.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said quickly. “I found your wallet on my bed. I thought you might want it back.”

I lifted it slightly.

Dante stared at the wallet, then looked at me.

He walked closer until he was standing directly in front of me. His height forced me to tilt my head back.

“You passed.”

I frowned. “Passed what?”

“The test.”

“What test?”

“Whenever someone new enters this house, I leave a fake wallet somewhere they will find it.” His expression remained serious. “It is filled with money. I watch to see what they do.”

I looked down at the wallet.

“You left it on my bed to see if I would steal it?”

“Yes.”

“That seems paranoid.”

“It keeps me alive.”

I held the wallet just above his waiting hand.

“You should be more careful with your money. I could have taken it.”

Dante opened his palm.

I dropped the wallet into it.

He caught it easily.

“That was the point.”

He leaned toward me.

His mouth stopped close to my ear, and the warmth of his breath sent goosebumps along my skin.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Then he stepped away and walked toward his desk.

“Good night, Camila.”

He sat down and opened a folder, dismissing me without another glance.

“Good night.”

I backed toward the door.

Before leaving, I looked at him one last time. He was already focused on the papers in front of him, his expression unreadable.

I closed the door behind me and hurried back to my room.

My heart was beating too fast.

Everything about Dante was intense. His voice. His stare. His touch.

I had only known him for one day, but he had already tested my loyalty, frightened me, and made me feel something I did not understand.

Tomorrow, I would return to school.

But tonight, I had learned one important truth.

The Devil never trusted anyone.

Not even his future wife.