All Chapters of Claimed By The Don: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The reception was held in Sofia’s private dining room above the casino—hidden from the noise below, but close enough that the faint hum of music and distant laughter drifted through the floor like a reminder that life was still moving outside their little bubble.It was small. Intentional. No spectacle. No press. No unnecessary faces pretending to care.The room glowed in soft gold light from low chandeliers and dozens of candles lining the windowsills. Round tables were dressed in cream linen and simple centerpieces—white roses, eucalyptus, and crystal glassware that caught the light every time someone lifted a toast. Nothing overdone. Just elegant enough to feel special without feeling staged.The long head table sat near the windows overlooking the city. The skyline shimmered behind them, lights scattered like spilled diamonds. It felt private up there—like the world was below them, and for once, not trying to reach in.Dinner moved smoothly. Courses arrived like clockwork—fresh br

They slept until noon. Dante woke first, which was a habit, but instead of reaching for his phone he lay still for a full minute, listening to Alessandro breathe. He let himself have the minute.Then he checked his phone.Three messages from Tommy, “all clear, all clear, Nico's at his penthouse, stop checking your phone”, and one from Marco that just said “enjoy it while it lasts”, which was the closest Marco came to a honeymoon blessing. And he felt weird after reading it.Alessandro stirred. "What time is it?""Noon."A long pause. "We slept until noon.""Yes.""I haven't slept until noon since I was nineteen." Alessandro rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling with the expression of a man recalibrating. "I think your chest did something to me. Like a sedative.""I'll add it to my list of skills.""You should." He stretched, slow and unhurried, and then looked sideways at Dante. "Are we doing this correctly? The honeymoon? I've never had one.""Neither have I.""So we're bo

By midafternoon, the room looked like a battlefield of silver trays and empty plates. Alessandro stood. “I need air.”Dante’s gaze stayed on the window. “That’s a bad idea.”“It’s a street, not a war zone. Outside. The street. Like civilians.""We're not civilians."“For three days, we’re the Romanos. Civilians.”Alessandro was already pulling on his jacket. “Midtown. Nobody knows our faces. We can walk outside, and no one will try to kill us.”Dante watched him button his shirt. “That’s when people die.” “We’re ghosts here, Dante. Nobody’s even looking.”“You’re assuming no one’s looking.” Dante looked at him. ‘’Optimism gets people killed. It’s not safe. “You’re such a downer. I thought you liked a little excitement.” Alessandro said almost pleading.“People like us don’t get days off.’’ Dante added. “I’m bored out of my mind,” Alessandro sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as he leaned against the table. “No one said a honeymoon had to be this boring. We should spice thi

I searched everywhere for Alessandro. I called his phone again and again—nothing. Straight to dead silence.But that couldn’t be right.I was sure I had left him here. Right here on this street.I turned slowly, my eyes scanning every corner, every storefront, every passing face. The streetlights glowed against the cold New York pavement, cars rushing past like nothing had happened. For a moment, doubt crept into my mind.Was I hallucinating?Wasn’t this the exact street we had just walked down together, talking and laughing? If I didn’t know New York like the back of my hand, I would have sworn I’d taken the wrong turn.My chest tightened.No…No.This is not happening.“Alessandro!” I screamed, my voice cracking as it echoed down the street.People turned to stare, some slowing down, others pretending not to notice. I rushed toward a group of pedestrians.“Did you see someone? A tall man—dark hair—Italian accent. He was just here!”They shook their heads.I ran to a nearby shop, nea

** Dante **I woke up to a strange stillness.For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The ceiling above me was an unfamiliar pale white, lined with long fluorescent lights that hummed softly like distant insects. Everything around me felt… sterile. Too clean. Too quiet.Then the smell hit me.It was the unmistakable scent of a hospital—sharp antiseptic, rubbing alcohol, disinfectant strong enough to sting the inside of your nose. Beneath it lingered the faint odor of latex gloves, bleached linens, and the metallic tang of medical equipment that had been wiped down too many times. The air itself felt cold and overly purified, as if no trace of the outside world was allowed to exist here.My head throbbed.Machines beeped beside me in slow, rhythmic intervals. A monitor glowed softly with green lines that rose and fell across the screen like small mountains. An IV bag hung from a metal stand beside the bed, a clear tube snaking from it into the vein of my arm. The sheets beneath me wer