Dante shoved me behind him so fast I stumbled.
His gun was already drawn. Aimed at the elevator doors that had just opened on our floor.
My heart hammered against my ribs. This was real. People with guns were coming to kill me.
"Stay behind me," Dante ordered. His voice was cold. Steady. Like this happened every day.
Maybe it did in his world.
The elevator doors slid open fully.
Two men stepped out. Both armed. Both wearing black tactical gear that made them look like soldiers.
Then James appeared from the stairwell behind them, his own gun raised. Three more guards materialized from different hallways.
The intruders were surrounded before they took three steps.
"Down! Now!" James shouted.
The men dropped their weapons immediately. Raised their hands. They weren't stupid enough to fight when they were outgunned five to two.
Dante didn't lower his gun. Didn't move. Just stood there like a wall between me and danger.
"Who sent you?" His voice was quiet. Deadly.
Neither man answered.
Dante fired once. The bullet hit the wall six inches from the first man's head. The sound was deafening in the enclosed space.
I jumped. My ears rang.
"I won't ask again," Dante said.
"Viktor Markov!" The first man cracked. "He sent us! Said to grab the girl and get out!"
Viktor Markov. The name from the documents Dante had shown me. The rival godfather. The one Marcus owed money to.
Dante's jaw tightened. "Take them to the basement. I'll deal with them later."
James and the guards moved in. Cuffed the men. Dragged them toward the service elevator.
The whole thing took less than three minutes.
Dante finally lowered his gun. Turned to face me. His dark eyes scanned me head to toe, checking for injuries.
"Are you hurt?"
I shook my head. I couldn't speak. Couldn't process what just happened.
He'd shot at someone. Right in front of me. Would have killed them if they hadn't talked.
"Isabella." His hand touched my face. "Look at me. Are you hurt?"
"No." The word came out as a whisper.
"Good." He holstered his gun. "Come on. We're moving you to a more secure location."
"Wait." I grabbed his arm. "You're just going to move on? Like armed men didn't just try to kidnap me?"
"That's exactly what I'm going to do. Because standing here discussing it makes you vulnerable." He pulled me toward his office. "We move now. Talk later."
Three days passed in a blur of new security protocols.
New room. Different floor. Guards stationed outside 24/7. No more freedom to wander the penthouse.
I was a prisoner again. A real one this time.
And I was losing my mind.
The forced civility at dinner became suffocating. Dante sat across from me every night, working on his laptop while I pushed food around my plate. Pretending this was normal. Pretending armed men hadn't tried to kidnap me. Pretending I wasn't a target for people who wanted to hurt him.
By the seventh day, something inside me snapped.
I stood from the dinner table without warning. Dante glanced up from his laptop but said nothing.
I walked straight to his office.
Two guards moved to stop me. I didn't care.
"I need to talk to him. Now."
"Miss Rossi, you can't—"
I pushed past them and shoved the office door open.
Dante sat behind his massive desk, phone to his ear. He looked up when I entered. His expression didn't change. Just watched me with those dark eyes that gave away nothing.
He held up one finger. Wait.
I didn't wait.
"Why are you keeping me?" The words exploded out. Loud. Raw. A week of rage finally breaking free. "If you killed Marcus, just say it! If you didn't, just let me go! This is cruel! Making me live with you, eat with you, sit across from you at dinner and pretend everything is normal when my fiancé is dead!"
Dante said something quiet into the phone. Ended the call. Set it down carefully.
Then he looked at me.
His guards had followed me in, hands on their weapons. Dante waved them away without taking his eyes off me.
The door closed. We were alone.
"Are you finished?" His voice was calm.
"No! I'm not finished!" I was shaking. From anger or fear or something more dangerous. "I haven't been allowed to grieve properly! I haven't been allowed to talk to my mother! I haven't been allowed to do anything except sit in this prison and wonder if the man keeping me captive is the same man who killed the person I loved!"
"Your fiancé had enemies, Isabella." Dante stood slowly. Walked around the desk with that predator grace that made my pulse spike. "Powerful enemies. The moment his blood hit the pavement, you became a target."
"So I'm just collateral damage you're protecting?" I laughed bitterly.
"You're someone I made a choice to keep alive." He stopped a few feet away. Close enough that I could see the dark circles under his eyes. He wasn't sleeping either. "Whether you appreciate that choice is irrelevant to me."
"Irrelevant? My life is irrelevant?"
"Your opinion is irrelevant. Your life is not."
The distinction shouldn't have mattered. But somehow it did.
"Then tell me the truth." I stepped closer. Close enough to smell his cologne. Close enough to see the muscle ticking in his jaw. "Did you kill Marcus?"
"No."
"Do you know who did?"
"Not yet. But I'm close."
"How close?"
"Close enough that someone sent armed men to my home to take you from me." His dark eyes burned. "Close enough that whoever's responsible is getting desperate."
"Maybe they're desperate because you have me." My voice dropped. "Maybe if I wasn't here, this would all stop."
"Or maybe if you weren't here, you'd already be dead." He reached out and touched my face. His thumb traced my cheekbone. "Have you considered that possibility?"
Heat flooded through me. Unwanted. Inappropriate. Undeniable.
I should pull away.
Instead I found myself leaning into his touch.
"I considered it," I whispered. "But I also considered that maybe you're keeping me here for other reasons. Maybe you're using me as bait. Maybe you want whoever killed Marcus to come for me so you can catch them."
Dante's expression shifted. Something almost like respect flickered in his eyes.
"You're smarter than I gave you credit for."
"Is that what I am? Bait?"
"No." His hand dropped from my face. "You're protected. There's a difference."
"I don't feel protected. I feel trapped."
"Trapped means alive. Dead means free. Choose."
The brutal honesty should have made me hate him.
Instead I found myself wanting to understand him.
"Why?" The question escaped before I could stop it. "Why do you care if I live or die? You didn't even know me before the funeral."
Dante studied me for a long moment. Like he was deciding how much truth to give.
"Because when I look at you, I see something I lost a long time ago."
"What?"
"The ability to believe things can be different." He turned away. Walked back to his desk. The moment shattered. "Now get out. I have work to do."
Dismissed. Like I was nothing.
I stood there shaking with emotions I didn't have names for. Then I left without another word.
I couldn't sleep that night.
Kept replaying Dante's words. The way he'd touched my face. The way his eyes had burned when he looked at me.
The way my heart had raced when he stood close.
I was attracted to him. Despite everything. Despite Marcus. Despite knowing Dante was dangerous and deadly and completely wrong for me.
I was attracted to the man who might have killed my fiancé.
The thought made me sick.
I got out of bed and paced the room. Needed to do something. Anything. Needed to stop thinking about dark eyes and brutal honesty and hands that could kill but touched me gently.
That's when I saw it.
A laptop. Sitting on the desk in the corner. It hadn't been there yesterday.
Had Dante left it for me?
I walked over slowly. Opened it. The screen lit immediately. No password required.
A browser was already open. A single tab waiting.
News article about Marcus's death.
My hands shook as I scrolled through it.
The article was from three days ago. It mentioned the shooting. The investigation. The suspects.
And at the bottom, one line made my blood run cold.
"Investigators are questioning the Caruso family regarding potential involvement in the murder of Marcus Rossi. Sources close to the investigation say Dante Caruso had recently threatened Rossi over a business dispute."
I read it again. Then again.
Dante had threatened Marcus.
Recently.
Over business.
Which meant everything he'd told me might be a lie. He said he didn't kill Marcus, but he'd threatened him before someone did.
Was that the truth he'd been hiding?
I kept reading. Clicking through related articles. Finding more information about the Caruso family. About Dante's reputation. About the people who crossed him and disappeared.
About the rumor that Dante never forgot a betrayal.
And Marcus had betrayed him by trying to leave.
My chest tightened. My hands shook. The laptop screen blurred as tears filled my eyes.
I'd been so stupid. So desperate to believe Dante was protecting me that I'd ignored the obvious.
He'd threatened Marcus.
Marcus died.
Now Dante was keeping me prisoner to make sure I didn't tell anyone what he'd done.
I slammed the laptop closed.
Needed to get out. Needed to escape. Needed to find proof of what really happened before Dante silenced me too.
I walked to the door. Tested the handle.
Locked.
Of course it was locked.
I was about to turn back when I heard voices in the hallway.
Guards talking quietly. Something about shift changes. About breaks.
I pressed my ear against the door.
"—only five minutes. Bathroom break. Dante won't know."
"Fine. But make it fast. If he finds out we left her unguarded—"
Footsteps faded down the hallway.
Silence.
My heart hammered. This was my chance. Maybe my only chance.
I tried the door handle again.
It clicked open.
Dante had unlocked it. Just like before. Another test.
But this time I wasn't staying.
I stepped into the empty hallway. Looked both ways. No guards in sight.
I ran.
Down the hall. Toward the service stairs. Toward freedom.
I'd made it three floors down when I heard footsteps behind me.
Fast. Heavy. Gaining quickly.
I ran faster. My bare feet slapped against concrete steps. My heart felt like it would explode.
Almost there. Almost free.
A hand grabbed my arm. Spun me around.
Dante stood there. His face was carved from stone. His dark eyes burned with fury.
"Going somewhere?"
Before I could answer, his phone rang.
He didn't let go of me. Just answered with his free hand.
"What?"
His entire body went rigid. The fury in his eyes shifted to something colder.
Something that looked like fear.
"When?" One word. Clipped.
Whatever the person said made him go pale.
"I'm on my way." He ended the call and looked at me. "We need to go. Now."
"I'm not going anywhere with you. I know you threatened Marcus. I know—"
"Isabella." His grip on my arm tightened. "Your mother just called the police. Said she received a package at her house. A package containing Marcus's wallet. And a note that says if she wants to see you alive again, she needs to pay Viktor Markov five million dollars."
The world tilted.
"What?"
"Someone just framed me for kidnapping you. And now the FBI is on their way to arrest me for Marcus's murder and your abduction." His jaw tightened. "Which means whoever's really responsible just made their final move. And they're using both of us to start a war."