LOGINShe married him to save her father's life. He married her to settle a debt. Neither of them expected to fall in love. Isabella Romano never wanted this life. She grew up watching her father drown in debts he couldn't repay, surrounded by men who smiled while they threatened. She wanted freedom — a future she chose for herself. Instead, she got a wedding dress, a stranger's ring, and a debt paid in full through her own hand in marriage. Dante Moretti is the coldest don their world has ever feared. He took control of his family's empire at twenty-three and buried his heart alongside the woman he lost. To him, Isabella isn't a wife. She's a payment. A term in a contract he never wanted to sign. But their wedding day doesn't end quietly. A traitor is dragged from the crowd in chains, blood staining the white flowers, and a warning whispers through the garden: someone close to Dante wants him destroyed. As Isabella is pulled deeper into a world of danger and betrayal, she begins to notice the man hiding behind the don — and a cousin whose ambition hides behind a charming smile. Slowly, dangerously, Isabella becomes the one person Dante can't afford to lose — and the one person who might finally teach him how to feel again. Because somewhere between the cold rules of his house and the warmth she refuses to let him extinguish, Dante starts to understand that love isn't the weakness he always believed it to be. But in this family, nothing comes free. Not loyalty. Not power. And certainly not love. When the past finally catches up to them, Dante will have to choose: the empire he built his life around — or the woman who taught him to want something.
View MoreThe drive back to the estate passed mostly in silence, the kind that comes after something enormous has finally settled rather than the strained quiet of before. Dawn was breaking by the time we reached the gates, pale light spilling over the grounds in a way that felt, absurdly, like the world offering its own quiet acknowledgment that something had shifted overnight."You should sleep," I said, watching Dante stare out the window as the car wound up the drive. "Whatever comes next with Tomas, with Marco, with all of it — none of it needs deciding in the next few hours."***"I don't think I can," Dante admitted, something raw still lingering in his voice from the night's conversation. "Every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing his face when I offered to acknowledge Renata publicly. Like he genuinely couldn't imagine anyone in this family choosing honesty over convenience.""That's not a small thing you gave him," I said gently. "For eight years,
The car stopped short of the gravel turnaround, Enzo's caution overriding Dante's earlier impatience now that the house stood visible ahead, its lit windows throwing warm, deceptive comfort across a scene none of us could yet predict the shape of."Two on foot around the perimeter," Enzo murmured into the radio, his voice pitched low enough that it barely carried beyond our own vehicle. "Confirm exits, confirm occupancy, before anyone approaches the front."Dante's hand hadn't left mine since we'd turned onto the gravel drive, his grip tightening now with a tension that betrayed the careful control he was fighting to maintain. "How long.""Ten minutes," Enzo said. "Maybe less. I'd rather lose ten minutes than lose the element of surprise because we rushed a step that mattered."The ten minutes stretched interminably, the car's interior heavy with a silence neither Dante nor I seemed able to fill with anything adequate to the moment. I studied his profile in the dim l
Marco's interrogation yielded little more that night, the older man retreating into a silence Dante didn't press, some old loyalty keeping him from pushing further cruelty onto a man who'd already surrendered everything he intended to give. By morning, the household had been quietly restructured around his absence — his duties reassigned, his private quarters searched, though Enzo's team found nothing beyond ordinary belongings and one faded photograph, tucked inside a worn wallet, of a young woman laughing at something beyond the camera's frame."Renata," Dante said when Enzo brought it to him, something raw crossing his face as he studied features that carried an unmistakable resemblance to no one currently living in this house, and yet felt, somehow, hauntingly familiar.***"She has your father's eyes," I said quietly, studying the photograph over his shoulder. "I don't mean that as an accusation. I mean I understand now why he might have looked at her and seen something worth ris
Marco didn't speak right away. He set down the inventory clipboard he'd been holding, as though he understood some conversations couldn't happen with even something so small still occupying his hands, and gestured toward the small table in the corner of the kitchen where staff usually took their breaks."Sit," he said. "Please. If I'm finally going to say her name after twenty years, I'd rather not say it standing, like a confession delivered for efficiency's sake."***Dante hesitated, some old instinct toward formality warring with the raw urgency of finally getting answers, but he sat. I took the chair beside him, close enough that our knees touched, offering what steadiness I could while Marco composed himself."Her name was Renata," Marco began. "My younger sister. Seven years younger, though she always acted older, more capable, more certain of what she wanted than I ever managed at her age."***"I don't remember a Renata," Dante said quietly."You wouldn't. Your father made ce
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