CHAPTER SIX — TROUBLE

The wedding finally came to an end. Whispers, and forced smiles faded behind them as Dante and Arabelle stepped into the waiting maserati. The ride was silent, thick, heavy, and suffocating.

They soon reached the Valerio mansion, and the guards immediately opened the car doors. Dante stepped out first, then extended his hand to help Arabelle down. 

Once inside, Dante shrugged off his jacket and headed straight for the staircase without sparing her a glance.

Arabelle scoffed.

“So you’re just going to leave me standing here without saying anything?”

He paused halfway up the stairs.

“Where’s my room?” she asked sharply, arms folding.

Dante turned slowly, a small, amused laugh escaping him as he loosened his tie.

“Your room? Tell me you’re joking, Arabelle.”

Her frown deepened. “How is that a joke? Am I supposed to sleep on the couch?”

“Come on,” he sighed. “We’re married. And you’re still demanding a separate room? Arabelle, I am not in the mood for your drama tonight. I’m exhausted, and I know you are too. I’m going to bed.”

He turned to continue up the stairs.

“Nice,” she muttered bitterly. “I must’ve been expecting too much from you. I’m sure what you did at the reception was just to show off.”

Her voice tightened, rising with frustration.

“If you think I’m sharing a bed with you, you’re dreaming. I’d rather sleep here.”

Dante didn’t bother turning around this time.

“As it pleases you, princess.”

His voice was low, calm, and almost sleepy.

“Goodnight… wife.”

He disappeared up the stairs, leaving Arabelle alone in the massive living room, angry, tired, and more confused than she wanted to admit.

__

The morning light pressed softly against Arabelle's skin. She turned on the bed and frowned before she even opened her eyes. 

For a moment, she lay still, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. High, dark wood. Cold elegance. She sat up on the bed and looked down at herself, noticing that her clothes had been changed.

Only one person could do this. She thought.

She got off the bed and went into the bathroom to have a cool bath. By the time she came out, a nice floral gown had been placed on the bed.

Was she being monitored?

After dressing all up, she made her way downstairs to the dining room.

She saw Dante seated at the head of the table with his legs crossed atop the dining table.

“Good thing you're awake.” He said, voice deep as ever that could turn anybody on but not Arabelle. “How was your night?”

She narrowed her eyes and ignored the question.“Why was I in your room? And why did you change my clothes”

He shrugged, taking his legs off the table and sipped from his black coffee.

“You were uncomfortable. The sofa isn’t for sleeping. Also, I didn't change your clothes, the maids did.”

“So your bed is comfortable?” She shot back.

His gaze didn’t move from her. “If you’re under my roof, you don’t sleep on a couch.”

She clenched her jaw, the memory of being lifted in his arms tugging at her pride.

“I have a business to attend to, will you be okay staying at home all by yourself?”

“You can just lock me up if you think I'll do anything stupid.” 

“Arabelle.” Dante called out gently and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You see, I don't know whatever it is you have in mind about me, one thing I want you to know is that I'll never hurt you or treat you anyhow but don't push me off limits.” He said calmly but in a cold voice making her shift on her seat. “Perhaps when I'm back we can go on our first date. What do you think?” 

Without waiting for an answer, he left the dining room and exited the house leaving Arabelle to herself.

–

The drive from the mansion to the casino district was short, but Dante’s mood sharpened the closer he got.

If there's something he hates and won't tolerate, it's child trafficking.

And now it happened in his territory. After he had made his law clear: no children. Ever.

Massimo, glanced over. “You sure you want to do this personally, boss?”

Dante’s jaw flexed. “If a man breaks my rule, he faces wrath."

The car rolled to a stop in front of the grand casino, Crowne Royale. Expensive. Loud. Filled with men who thought money made them untouchable.

Dante stepped out, and just like he expected, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Dante Valerio had arrived.

He walked straight to the VIP room, where the traffickers sat laughing, chips stacked high, bottles spilled.

The leader, a greasy man named Vito, looked up and smirked.

“Look who we have here” he chuckled, making the other men laugh.

What the hell was funny? Dante thought.

“You know my rules and how I roll,” Dante said calmly, sliding into the chair opposite them. “No children. Ever.”

Vito swallowed, feeling the aura coming from him. “It's nothing bad. We are just having fun.”

“You were just having fun girls who can barely spell their own names.” he slammed his hand on the table.

A deadly silence followed.

He reached for Vito’s hand, grabbed it, and slammed it against the table.

Vito screamed as Dante broke a finger with effortless calm.

“Let this remind you…” He twisted the finger again, grinding bone. “…that your greed has boundaries.”

The others shook violently, eyes lowered, terrified.

“You will return every girl unharmed,” Dante continued. “You will pay each family compensation. You will disappear for a month. If I see you again without my permission, I’ll bury you under this casino.”

They nodded rapidly, terrified.

Dante stood, adjusted his jacket, and walked out, power trailing behind him like smoke.

He had delivered his message.

Now—business.

The night air outside the casino was sharp, chilled, humming with muffled traffic and distant sirens. Dante stepped out, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. His guards closed in around him immediately, creating a silent moving wall as they approached the convoy.

“The Mirage Bar,” Dante announced, voice flat but edged with authority. “They’re already waiting.”

The car slipped onto the road, weaving through back streets until they reached a narrow alley with no signage, only a single red light glowing above a metal door. To anyone else, it looked abandoned. But to the underworld, it was one of the most secure meeting points in Italy.

A guard scanned Dante’s face, nodded, and buzzed him in after taking all the weapons on them.

Inside, the bar was dim, lit by neon blues and purples reflecting off polished black marble. A low hum of jazz played from hidden speakers. 

The place wasn’t open to the public, every soul inside belonged to a syndicate, a cartel, or a shadow business.

At the VIP area, three men were seated awaiting their arrival.

The Spanish Cartel.

Represented by César Delgado, a man with cold, calculating eyes and a smile that never reached them.

“Don Valerio,” César greeted, rising to shake Dante’s hand. “We heard you had… business to settle before coming.”

Dante sat without returning the smile. “When rules are disrespected, I handle it immediately.”

César smirked. “That is why we trust you.”

Massimo placed a metal briefcase on the table. Dante nodded, and he opened it, revealing documents, maps, and encrypted chips.

“We’re expanding distribution routes,” Dante began. “Eastern Europe is tightening borders. So we’re shifting the next weapons shipment from the Balkans to a foreign source. The supplier in Turkey agreed to increase production.”

César leaned back. “And what is the problem?”

“They want a higher percentage,” Dante replied. “Thirty percent more.”

César whistled softly. “Ambitious.”

“They think we’re desperate,” Dante said calmly. “I’ll remind them that we’re not.”

He tapped the documents.

“This shipment is high-grade, military level. Rifles, silencers, anti-tracking devices. If we agree to their price now, next shipment they’ll demand more. We need stability, not greedy partners.”

“So what is your proposal?” César asked.

Dante’s eyes sharpened.

“We offer fifteen percent. Not a point more. And if they refuse…” he paused, swirling the whiskey Massimo had placed in front of him, “we remove the middleman and take direct control of their port.”

César’s eyebrows rose. “That's bold.”

“It’s necessary,” Dante said. “Power is maintained through consistency and fear. If they test us, we respond with force strong enough to remind the world who controls the weapon routes.”

César exchanged a look with his men, then nodded.

“We’re in.”

Another man slid forward a dark tablet and opened the contract. Dante scanned it, made slight edits, then pressed his fingerprint to seal it.

As Dante stood to leave, César added quietly, “Your marriage—will it affect business?”

Dante paused. His jaw tensed.

“No,” he said firmly. “Nothing affects my business.”

But as he walked out of the bar, glancing at the time, one thought crossed his mind, Arabelle.

She was probably fuming, probably plotting ten different ways to escape his house.

He smirked to himself.

And for the first time that day, he looked forward to going home.

__

“…so you are telling me,” Arabelle said, laughing so hard her eyes watered, “that Dante once tripped over his own dog during a meeting?”

The maid threw her hands up.

“Yes! Right in front of all his underbosses. But they all pretended not to see!”

Arabelle giggled. “I can’t believe the almighty Don Valerio fell because of a dog.”

“You have to see the….” The word hung up in the maid's mouth as she turned back to Dante standing at the kitchen door, leaning on the frame with arm crossed over his chest.

The maid stood still, fear gripped her as he feared that he might fire her. She looked down quickly wishing the floor could open and swallow her up.

“What is it, Mara? Why did you stop?” Arabelle asked, seeing her reaction.

“You should continue your gist, I won't do you anything. After all, you're only telling my wife about my embarrassing moment.” Dante spoke up, making Arabelle look back.

“What are you doing here?” She scoffed.

“The last time I checked..” he left the door and walked in with his hands entwined together behind him. “The house is mine and I have every right to be wherever I am.” He leaned close to her sniffing her cologne. “You can leave.” He said to Mara who was still there.

She immediately left, leaving just the two of them in the kitchen.

“You won't ask how my meeting went?” He raised a brow as he poured himself a glass of water.

“Do I look like I care? Why are you forcing yourself on me? I have told you before that you will get nothing from me.”

“Whoa… You shouldn't say that, wife.”

“Don't call me that. It stinks.” She snapped. “Look, you can get yourself some whores and enjoy yourself for all I care, just don't come my lane.” She said and stood up ready to leave.

“How good are you at shooting?” He asked her, making her stop on her track.

She chuckled. “I could blast your head off with my eyes closed.” She said and turned to face him. “Why do you ask?”

“Come with me.” He said instead and walked past her.

Arabelle opened her mouth to respond, but kept quiet and just followed him behind.

They reached a steel door which she hadn't seen even during her tour around the house. Dante opened the door and stepped in. The room was very big and spacious, looking like a weaponry room. By the left, a shooting range. Dante took a metal gun and handed it to her.

“Show me what you've got, wife.”

“Don't you…”

“Shuuu…” he pressed his index finger in her lips.

“Don't say anything. Now shoot.”

Just as she was about to pull the trigger, a sharp alarm blared through the speakers, red lights flashing overhead.

Dante’s eyes darkened. “Stay close, Arabelle… trouble just reached our door.”