Chapter Seven

Dante's Pov.

Flashback:]

“Richardo's men attacked the manor last night, your grandfather's getting old... he wants you home,” Mariano says as I get into the car. I know their symbol when I see them; it's a cold, familiar dread. I had just dropped Imogen at the bus stop and watched her leave when he drove up to me, a theatrical way to make an entrance. Nothing has changed. He is still the tall, aloof man I had left, only with more grey hairs and an intense addiction to his weed.

He's been here two weeks ago. I've been stalling it, thinking of ways to tell Imogen. I'm trying not to leave any tracks, but she’s been noticing that my mood is off. We’ve just left the ice cream shop she dragged me to, an attempt to cheer me up with a cone. I don't look at her, seeing her worried. I don't want to leave her. I'm thinking of ways to negotiate and have her come to Italy with me, or better still, we could work out a long-distance relationship while I'm away. Dating her was a great alteration to my well-thought-out plan for years, and now, the reality of including her in it is just hitting me.

“I know... I'm working on it,” I answer sharply, my jaw tight.

“Is it because of her? Your new plaything?”

I shoot him a glare, my hands clenching into fists. “She's not my plaything, she's my girlfriend. Don't f*cking call her that, okay? And keep her out of this.” The possessiveness in my voice surprises even me.

“It's even worse than I thought.” Mariano lets out a sigh as his assistant lights up another wrap he draws in. “What are your plans for her?”

“Just leave Imogen out of this. You want me back in Italy? Fine. A deal's a deal, I'll be back, just don't bring her up. What is it with her that you can't stop talking about?”

“Because you're being stupid. A girlfriend? Really, Dante? And not just any girl but your student? The girl's family is even poor—”

“You’ve dug into her?” My voice is low, dangerous. I should have known he would. He's always been this meticulous, this cruel.

“Of course, I have. You could have any woman, but it had to be a powerless, gold-digger—”

My fists clench, and I close my eyes, trying to control the rage that is boiling inside me. “Shut the hell up.”

He lets out a deep breath, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips. “Your father wants you to marry Isabella, Eduardo's daughter. They have ties with Richardo's enemies and greater manpower, which is what we need. Dump the British girl and come home.”

“I'm not dumping her, are you nuts? I don't even like Isabella.” The idea of marrying someone else, of giving up on Imogen, is a sharp, painful ache in my chest. This isn't how it's supposed to be. I was supposed to come back for her. We were supposed to be together.

Mariano bites his lip hard. “Listen to me, Dante. I don't know what England has taught you, but our world isn't a darn Disney movie, so wake up. You're going to put that girl in danger. What if word gets out that she's dating you? How do you intend to protect her? You're forgetting about what you owe to your father, Dante.” He smirks as the words sink in. “There's no protection that you'll give that girl that would keep her away from the radar, and what do you plan for her? A life filled with running and misery? You think she wants that? Dump her and come home or stay here and prepare to mourn her death.”

“You wouldn't dare.” The threat is a punch to the gut, a cold-hearted promise I know he is capable of keeping.

“Of course, I will, and if I don't, someone else will. You come home, and your little girlfriend can go free. You'll pretend like this never happened. I won't touch her if you move.”

***End of Flashback***

I shut the door of the car with a deafening slam as I step into his penthouse. The air is thick with the scent of his expensive cologne and the faint smell of his weed, a scent that now makes my skin crawl. He promised not to hurt her. I was a fool for believing a man like him. Everything that happened, all the pain she endured, it would end today. I’ll make sure of it.

“Mariano!” I yell.

I fire a shot into the ceiling, the sound a deafening crack that echoes through the silence. Plaster dust rains down. Guards flood the room, all alert, their guns aimed at me, but they hesitate. They see me, his nephew, the man who was supposed to be a ghost. Their loyalty is split. I brush past them, their eyes wide with confusion. They won’t stop me. No one can. I walk toward the door, my gun pointed straight ahead, ready for him.

Just as Mariano steps out in his silk bathrobe, a look of annoyance on his face, he begins to speak. “Who the hell is that...Dante—” I cut him off, my speed a blur. I grab him by the collar, the slick silk twisting in my fist. He stumbles, the surprise on his face quickly replaced by fear. I use the butt of the gun to his head, a sharp, metallic thud, then press the cold barrel against his temple. His guards tense, but they freeze. One wrong move, and their boss is dead. He knows it. I know it.

“Bloody son of a bitch, we had a deal, didn't we?” The words are a low, venomous growl. You promised me she would be safe. You promised.

I fire a shot into his leg. A cry of agony rips from his throat. I don't hesitate. I toss him to the glass tea table. The table shatters on impact, a spray of broken glass as his body lands hard on the ground. “You ruined her!” I yell, firing another shot, this time into his arm. “You ruined her for what?! You greedy arsehole!”

“I didn't...I didn't think you'd come back for her, you should calm down, Dante” he manages to choke out, his voice weak with pain.

“Calm down?” I scoff, my voice filled with disgust. I shoot at his other arm.

“F*CK,” he curses underneath his breath, his body convulsing from the pain.

He didn't calm down when he was doing those things to her, when he kept ripping her apart without remorse. He didn't calm down when he leaked those pictures. When he left that post-it note instead of my letter. When he let my pregnant girlfriend be kicked out of her home and left on the street. I kick him in the side, a sharp, brutal hit. It's nothing compared to what he’s done, but I love how he’s in shock and in pain. I step on the arm's gunshot wound as I point the gun at his head. “Why did you do it? Huh? I dumped her, didn't I? I left her, and you still came for her!”

He can't talk but coughs out blood, a gruesome sound. Just when I'm about to shoot at his other leg, a deep voice cuts through the house.

“Enough!” A loud yell from my grandfather. I turn to see him fuming in anger, his face is  red hot and his fists are clenched. “I asked him to do it.” He says, dropping the final bomb.