Chapter 5: The Echo In Her Bones

POV: Dante Rizzo

The laughter hadn’t died down before she walked away.

My jaw ticked.

She had the audacity to smirk, to toss that pretty head like she hadn’t just embarrassed me in front of a hundred powerful guests. Like I was nothing more than a man she'd agreed to tolerate in exchange for survival.

And maybe that’s exactly how she saw me.

The Don, reduced to a bodyguard in a tuxedo while she played the untouchable heiress.

I felt it simmer beneath my skin, that sharp, cutting heat I hadn’t felt in years. Not since the day I buried my father and took this empire by the throat.

But tonight, that heat had a name.

Leona.

I exhaled slowly through my nose, eyes tracking her figure as she wove back into the glittering crowd, laughing at something the De Luca heir said. I didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her. Nor the way her posture shifted , just enough to be noticed. Calculated. Careless.

I’d given her the dress. The diamonds. The platform to walk in this world.

And she was already learning how to bite the hand that fed her.

Good. I'd rather a woman with claws than one who cowered. But she'd better remember who owned the leash.

"Boss."

Marcello’s voice cut into my thoughts like a dull knife. I turned slowly, meeting his unreadable stare. He didn’t say anything more. Didn’t need to. The tension between us from earlier still hung in the air like smoke after a shot fired.

“She’s reckless,” he muttered, glancing toward Leona. “And she’s making people talk.”

My lips curled.

“Let them.”

But the truth was ...I didn’t like the talking. Especially not when I heard Valentina’s name.

I moved through the ballroom like a shadow, my eyes sweeping across faces trained to smile and scheme in the same breath. When I found her, Valentina Moretti, dressed like a desperate trophy and sipping champagne too fast, I stopped just short of her velvet-draped circle.

“She married him because he threatened her brother,” she said in a voice loud enough for the women around her to hear and just soft enough to pretend she hadn’t meant for me to catch it. “Of course it’s a contract marriage. Look at them. No chemistry.”

"They didn't even had a reception. It was all rushed." She laughed.

Her laughter was thin. Artificial.

My jaw clenched so hard it popped.

Valentina always had a taste for sabotage, especially when it came to women she couldn’t outshine. But dragging my name into her little spiral of jealousy?

That was a mistake.

My eyes didn’t leave her face as I stepped forward.

“I must have missed the part where you were invited to speak on my marriage, Valentina.”

The circle around her went stiff. A few sipped nervously. One choked on her drink. One went pale like she saw a ghost.

Valentina turned, caught like a rabbit in headlights, though she tried to play it off with a smile.

“I was only joking, Dante.”

I didn’t smile. I didn’t blink.

“I don’t joke about my wife.”

And then I turned because humiliation was best served subtly and I walked straight to the woman causing all this.

Leona.

Still talking to the De Luca boy, her lips parted in a soft laugh, eyes shining beneath the chandeliers. She didn’t even notice me until I was inches away.

“Dance with me.”

She blinked. “What?”

The music had slowed and a haunting waltz filling the golden-lit room. Couples were already moving in a rehearsed rhythm, the kind only old money knew how to follow.

“Now, Leona.”

Her spine straightened. Her eyes darted around at the people watching, at the De Luca heir backing away with a tight-lipped smirk.

She looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

But she took my hand anyway.

Good girl.

I led her to the center of the ballroom, where the space seemed to part like sea foam around a storm. All eyes on us. On her. That was the point.

To remind them who she belonged to.

My hand settled low on her back , lower than what was considered “proper” and I felt her stiffen. Her palm lay in mine, cold and light, but not trembling.

“Why the sudden performance?” she murmured as I spun her effortlessly into the dance.

“Because people are starting to forget,” I muttered, “who exactly you married.”

“I don’t recall that being my fault.”

Her head tilted slightly, lips curling.

“You wanted a scene, Mr. Rizzo. Congratulations.”

I pulled her closer.

“I want silence, Mrs. Rizzo. And this will shut them up.”

Her eyes flared with challenge, with something hot and unspoken and I hated how much I liked it.

The dance was slow, deliberate, charged. Each turn another page of a story we hadn’t agreed to write.

By the end, the crowd had fallen into a hush, eyes averted, gossip diffused.

And Valentina?

Nowhere in sight.

As the last note of the waltz faded, I didn’t let go.

Instead, I leaned in just enough for her to hear me.

“You want freedom, Leona? Then stop acting like you don’t already have it. I’m not your enemy.”

She looked at me for a long moment ... a searching, angry silence before she pulled her hand from mine.

“I don’t know what you are.”

And she walked away.

Again.

****

POV: Leona

Post-Party | Sovrano Estate, Late Night

The glitter of the evening clung to my skin like residue i couldn’t wash off, a ghost of luxury, laughter, and carefully veiled hostility. I stood in front of the vanity, bare feet pressing into the cold marble as I wiped away the last traces of makeup with slow, circular motions. My reflection stared back, quiet and unreadable.

The dress still hung on my frame, sculpted like second skin, Dante’s choice. His command. One i hadn't outright resisted.

I'd looked beautiful tonight. I knew it. But beauty had become a weapon in his hands. Something to display. Something to wield.

My fingers paused at her cheekbone, where a soft blush still lingered.

“You handled yourself well tonight.”

He'd said that just before they stepped out of the ballroom. A compliment, if you could call it that, crisp and cold, the kind that sounded more like approval for a pawn than genuine praise.

And i hated how much it still stirred something warm in my chest.

The way he’d looked at me during that confrontation with Valentina... there’d been pride. Admiration, even. But there was always something else underneath with Dante. Always that gnawing question.

Is it real... or just another piece in the game?

I wrapped my arms around myself, watching the dress slip slightly from my shoulder. The bite of the fabric reminded me of the dance.

When his hand had wrapped around my waist.

When the room had blurred, leaving only his touch and those molten eyes focused on me like I was the only thing that existed. Like I belonged there.

The dance had silenced the whispers, Valentina’s venom, the murmurs of a fake marriage, all of it wiped clean the moment Dante Rizzo pulled his wife onto the floor with that steel-jawed look that dared anyone to speak again.

But what did it mean?

Was it strategy? Possessiveness?

Or… something deeper?

My chest tightened. No. Don't be foolish. He’d made no secret of why i was here. Vengeance wrapped in marriage vows. Recompense in red.

I sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the moonlight spilling through the tall windows. The estate was silent now, hushed behind layers of stone and security.

But my mind was anything but.

Marcello’s betrayal had already dug its claws into me, offering me like payment. And now, tonight, that tiny, sick voice had whispered again.

What if this wasn’t just punishment for a brother’s sin but part of the deal?

My throat dried.

I could still remember the weight of Dante’s hand on the small of my back, the tension coiled in his frame when Valentina spat her poison. And yet, he’d said nothing not until it served him. Not until the image of their “union” was in jeopardy.

And then there were his men. The way they watched me. Guarded me Not like a wife. More like an asset. Or worse, a liability.

I curled my legs beneath me, drawing the plush throw over my shoulders.

I didn’t feel married.

I felt owned.

And the terrifying part? Some moments, i didn’t mind. Some moments, when his gaze darkened and his voice dropped and he looked at me like I was a storm he couldn’t stop chasing, i felt wanted.

And that… that was the most dangerous illusion of all.

Because i wasn’t sure who the real Dante was beneath the control and cruelty.

But I was beginning to realize that whatever this was between us, it wasn’t going to stay fake for long.

Not without casualties.

And i wasn’t sure my heart was ready to be one of them.

****

Dante’s POV

The door was ajar.

That alone was dangerous. She never left her door unlocked. Not since the wedding. Not unless she wanted something.

I didn’t knock.

Leona stood by the window, the moonlight slicing across her silk robe and bare legs. One shoulder was exposed, the robe lazily slipping down as if gravity knew how much I was already struggling to look away.

She didn’t turn around. “If you’re here to gloat, you can save it.”

Her voice was flat, tired, but not defeated. That was the problem. Leona never broke. She bent just enough to lure you close and then snapped you in half.

I stepped in, closed the door behind me.

“You embarrassed me.”

“Join the club,” she said, still not facing me.

I moved closer, slow. Controlled. Dangerous.

“You called me a husband in public. Like you meant it.”

Now she turned, robe shifting, barely clinging to her curves. Her eyes were glassy, not with tears but tension. Frustration. Maybe confusion.

“I was protecting your image,” she snapped. “Valentina was...”

“Valentina is nothing,” I cut in sharply. “But you, Leona, you know better than to lie with your mouth and tell the truth with your eyes.”

Her breath hitched.

I was in front of her now, the air between us crackling with something volatile. Her chest rose and fell with every breath, lips parted slightly. She hated that I could read her so well.

“Did you mean it?” I asked, voice low. “Calling me your husband.”

She didn’t answer.

So I stepped even closer, hand brushing against her waist, slipping just beneath the silk. Her skin was soft...too soft for someone so sharp.

“You shouldn’t wear things like this,” I murmured, brushing her collarbone with my knuckles. “Not unless you want to be devoured.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not some meal you can claim out of boredom, Dante.”

“No,” I agreed, leaning in, lips grazing the shell of her ear. “You’re the feast I’ve been starving for.”

She sucked in a breath. My hand slid around her back, pulling her flush against me.

“And if you keep running your mouth,” I whispered, “I’ll tie you to this bed and fill it so well, you won’t have a single lie left in you.”

Her knees buckled slightly, a flicker of weakness.

But I didn’t take advantage.

Not yet.

Our mouths met in a bruising kiss, her fingers tangled in my shirt, and for a second, the rest of the world melted away.

Then...

KNOCK. KNOCK.

We froze.

Another knock. Firmer.

Her lips parted to speak, but I caught her chin between my fingers.

“Don’t open that,” I growled. “Not unless you want me to show them exactly what you look like when you’re begging.”