Rules of Engagement

I pulled away from Dante's touch, my chair scraping against the marble floor as I stood. My heart was a war drum in my chest, and my hands were shaking, but I refused to let him see how deeply his words had cut me.

"You married me for revenge," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "You planned to use me as a weapon against people I don't even know. And now you're telling me you've changed your mind because I kissed you back?"

Dante's expression was unreadable. "I'm telling you the truth. What you do with it is your choice."

"My choice." I laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. "I don't have choices, remember? I'm married to the most powerful man in the country. I'm trapped in his fortress with armed guards at every exit. My father was apparently a traitor who got your family killed. And the man I was supposed to marry wants me dead or worse."

I stepped closer to him, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. "So tell me, Dante. What choices do I actually have?"

He was quiet for a long moment, his gray eyes searching my face. Then he did something that surprised me. He stepped back, giving me space.

"You're right," he said. "You don't have many choices right now. But that will change. I'm not my enemies, Chloe. I don't keep women locked in towers. I don't hurt innocent people to prove a point."

"Then what do you do?"

"I protect what's mine." His voice was soft but carried the weight of absolute certainty. "And whether you like it or not, you are mine now. Not because of revenge. Not because of some plan. Because you walked into my home, insulted me to my face, and made me feel something I haven't felt in years."

"What's that?"

"Alive."

The word hung between us, heavy and unexpected. I stared at him, trying to find the lie, the manipulation, the cold calculation. But all I saw was a man who looked almost vulnerable in the candlelight, a crack in his armor that he was allowing me to see.

"I don't trust you," I said.

"I know."

"I don't even like you."

Dante's lips curved into that infuriating half smile. "You kissed me back."

"That was adrenaline. A momentary lapse in judgment."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself." He walked back to the table and poured himself another glass of wine, his movements fluid and unhurried. "You have questions. I have answers. But first, we need to establish some ground rules."

"Ground rules."

"Sit down, Chloe. You're not a prisoner, but you are a target. Until I neutralize the threats against you, you will follow my security protocols. You will not leave the estate without my permission. You will not contact anyone without my knowledge. And you will not, under any circumstances, attempt to run away."

"Or what? You'll lock me in the dungeon?"

Dante's eyes glittered with dark amusement. "I don't have a dungeon. But I do have a very comfortable room with no windows and excellent security. I'd rather not use it."

"You're threatening me."

"I'm being honest with you. There's a difference." He sat down and gestured to the chair I had abandoned. "Sit. Eat. You're going to need your strength."

I wanted to refuse. I wanted to storm out of the room and prove that he couldn't control me. But my stomach growled loudly in the silence, and Dante's smile widened.

"That's what I thought."

I sat. Because I was hungry and tired and because arguing with this man was like arguing with a wall. A very handsome, very dangerous wall.

"The people who killed your parents," I said, reaching for a piece of bread. "Are they still after you?"

"Yes."

"And they'll come after me because I'm your wife?"

"Possibly." Dante's jaw tightened. "Angelo Rosetti is one of them. He was a lower-level associate back then, but he's risen in the ranks. He's been trying to take over my territory for years. Your father's betrayal was the beginning. But it wasn't the end."

"What do you mean?"

Dante was quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming against the table. Then he said, "The man who ordered the attack on my family is still alive. He's the one pulling strings, manipulating events from the shadows. I don't know who he is yet. But I know he's connected to your father. And I think you might be the key to finding him."

I set down the bread, my appetite vanishing. "You think I know something about my father's past? I was twelve when he died. I don't know anything."

"You might not know you know." Dante leaned forward, his eyes intense. "Your father kept secrets, Chloe. He had hidden accounts, coded messages, contacts no one knew about. When he died, all of that disappeared. But you're his daughter. There might be something he left you, something you've overlooked."

"I don't have anything. My mother sold the house after he died. We moved to a tiny apartment. All his belongings were gone."

"Are you sure?"

I opened my mouth to respond, then stopped. There was something. A small wooden box my father had given me on my tenth birthday, just days before he died. He had told me to keep it safe, to never open it until I was older. I had forgotten about it, shoved it in a drawer somewhere and never thought of it again.

"I might have something," I whispered.

Dante's eyes sharpened. "What?"

"A box. My father gave me a box." I looked up at him, my heart racing. "But it's back at my apartment. The one Angelo knows about."

Dante stood, his chair scraping back. "Then we need to get it. Before Rosetti does."