Giada POV

The Don's Penthouse was a monument to a cold soul. Stepping inside, I was met with a stark expanse of black, white, and gray, illuminated only by the sprawling Manhattan skyline beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. There was no warmth here, only the suffocating weight of absolute power.

A silent guard directed me past the main living area and toward the heavy frosted glass doors of the private spa.

I pushed the doors open. Humid air, thick with the scent of eucalyptus, clung to my skin. In the center of the room, a Roman-style heated pool rippled under dim lighting. But Dante Blackwell wasn't waiting for me.

Katheryn was.

The self-proclaimed Mafia Queen and sister to a powerful Capo stood by the marble edge, flanked by two burly maids. Her eyes were venomous, fixated on the simple dress I wore. I knew Kelsey had paid off the Associates in the hallway to listen to my screams, hoping I would die tonight. They were all so predictable.

"You think you can skip the line, little Collateral?" Katheryn sneered, stepping forward. In her manicured hand, she held a small glass vial filled with a thick, yellowish liquid. High-grade corrosive acid.

"Hold her," Katheryn commanded.

The two maids lunged, their heavy hands twisting into my hair and forcing me to my knees on the cold marble. Katheryn pinched my jaw, her nails digging into my skin as she brought the vial toward my lips. She wanted to melt my face and my vocal cords.

I let out a muffled whimper, thrashing wildly with the desperate energy of cornered prey. As Katheryn leaned in, I jerked my head and violently slammed my shoulder into her wrist.

She shrieked. The glass vial slipped from her fingers, arcing through the humid air before plunging into the heated pool. The water erupted into a violent hiss, a plume of acrid white smoke billowing upward as the acid instantly reacted with the heated water. But within seconds, the massive pool's filtration system churned, and the toxic cloud was sucked into the vents. The surface stilled, the diluted chemicals rendered inert in the vast volume of water.

Katheryn stared at the ruined acid, her face twisting into pure, unadulterated rage. She grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. But as the dim light hit my face, she froze.

My hair was a tangled mess, and the pale, ashen foundation I had applied earlier made my skin look sickly and dull. The fake, ugly blemishes I had drawn on stood out starkly. Katheryn’s furious panting slowed. The intense, murderous jealousy in her eyes flickered into disgusted amusement. I was no beauty threat to her reign.

"You're not even worth another vial," she spat, her vanity appeased. But her authority had still been challenged. She reached to the nearby lounge chair and uncoiled a thick, customized leather belt—the kind Enforcers used for discipline. "Put her on the floor."

The maids slammed me chest-down onto the hard marble.

*Crack.*

The heavy leather bit into my back, tearing through the thin fabric of my dress and slicing into my flesh. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper, swallowing the scream.

*Crack.*

Fire exploded across my shoulder blades. I squeezed my eyes shut, my mind ruthlessly counting the seconds. *11:28 PM.* In my past life, I knew Dante’s schedule flawlessly. He always finished his nightly briefings with his Consigliere at exactly half-past eleven.

*Crack.* Blood began to pool against the marble. *11:29 PM.*

Suddenly, the heavy, rhythmic thud of footsteps echoed from the hallway, followed by the crisp, terrified voices of the guards. "The Don has arrived."

Katheryn’s face drained of color. The belt slipped from her trembling hand. She knew Dante despised unauthorized torture in his sanctuary; his Don's Command was absolute.

This was my moment.

Before the maids could react, I shoved them aside with a burst of adrenaline. I stumbled toward the frosted glass doors just as they swung open, then intentionally let my foot slip on the wet marble. With a breathless cry, I plunged backward into the warm waters of the pool.

The water rushed over me, instantly dissolving the ashen foundation and washing away the ugly, drawn-on scars.

Strong, unyielding hands broke the surface, grabbing my arms and hauling me out of the water. I gasped, water streaming from my hair as I instinctively clung to the lapels of a custom dark suit.

I looked up through wet lashes. Dante Blackwell towered over me. His sharp, ruthless features were carved from stone, his dark eyes radiating a lethal danger. But as he looked down at my face—now completely bare, flawless, and bearing a haunting, seven-point resemblance to his dead Ellen—his breath hitched.

His gaze dropped to my back, where the torn dress revealed vicious, bleeding welts.

The air in the room plummeted to freezing. The Dark Don's eyes darkened into a pitch-black abyss of violent, possessive fury.

"Drag her out of my sight," Dante commanded, his voice a low, terrifying rumble directed at the guards staring at a sobbing Katheryn. He tightened his grip on my waist, pulling my bleeding body flush against his chest. "And get Dr. Weaver up here. Now."

Giada POV

The heavy oak door clicked shut, sealing Dr. Weaver and the guards outside. The sharp scent of clinical antiseptic lingered in the air, but it was quickly swallowed by the intoxicating, dangerous aroma of Dante’s bespoke cologne and the faint metallic tang of my own blood.

I was kneeling on the edge of the massive black leather bed, my back tightly bound in fresh white bandages. Dante stood over me, a towering shadow blocking the dim light of the brass bedside lamp. The silence in the penthouse was absolute, heavy with the weight of his authority.

"Katheryn," his voice was a lethal, low rumble that vibrated in my chest. "Say the word, and I will issue the Don's Command. She will be a corpse before dawn."

I knew this test. In our world, blood demanded blood. But Dante Blackwell despised greedy, manipulative women who used his power to settle their petty jealousies. I forced a wince, letting my silk robe slip slightly off my shoulder to expose the edge of the bandage.

"No," I whispered, lowering my lashes to hide the calculation in my eyes. "It was my fault. I am just a Collateral. I didn't know the rules. She... she just loves you too much. She was terrified of losing your gaze. If I were in her place, I would be just as terrified."

The suffocating silence returned. Then, his large, calloused hand snapped out. His fingers gripped my jaw with bruising force, tilting my head up. His dark eyes searched mine, cold and probing, looking for the lie.

"You don't want vengeance," he murmured, his thumb tracing my jawline like a predator studying its prey. "In our world, that makes you either a rat, or a woman whose heart already belongs to someone else outside these walls. Which is it?"

I let a single, perfect tear spill over his thumb. "The latter," I choked out.

The air in the room plummeted to freezing. Murderous intent flared in his pitch-black eyes. He released me abruptly, turning his broad back toward the door to summon a Soldier to drag me away.

Ignoring the agonizing tear in my back, I lunged forward.

I grabbed the lapels of his custom suit, my fingers twisting desperately into the expensive fabric. "It belongs to you!" I cried, my voice trembling with practiced desperation. "I let my father sell me into this hell just for the chance to look at you, Dante."

He froze. The pure, unadulterated obsession in my words struck the beast inside him. With a sudden, violent motion, he spun around, grabbing my waist and pinning me back against the mattress. His weight pressed into me, his breath hot against my lips. The Dark Don's eyes were completely consumed by a violent, possessive hunger.

Just as his mouth descended to claim mine, I turned my head.

His lips grazed my cheek, sending a genuine shiver down my spine. I pressed my hands flat against his chest, feeling the frantic, heavy thud of his heart.

"I can't," I breathed, my voice breaking flawlessly. "Katheryn's brother is your Capo. I won't let my selfish heart fracture your family. Your empire is more important than my feelings."

Dante went entirely rigid. The words *Capo* and *empire* acted like ice water on his boiling blood. The war between his primal lust and his duty as the Don raged violently in his eyes. He stared at me, his chest heaving against my palms, before he violently pushed off the bed.

"Bury those words, Giada," he commanded, his voice harsh, ragged, and full of warning. "Pretend tonight never happened."

He turned and strode out of the room, the heavy doors slamming shut behind him. Alone in the dim light, I sat up slowly. I wiped the remaining tear from my cheek, letting the terrified mask melt away as a slow, cold smile curved my lips.

Giada POV

The cold smile had barely settled on my lips when the heavy oak doors swung open again.

Dante stood in the threshold, his towering frame casting a long, imposing shadow across the carpet. The violent storm in his eyes had been locked away behind a wall of impenetrable ice.

"You stay here tonight," he commanded, his voice a low, authoritative rasp. "Let Katheryn's brother and the rest of the estate know you are under my roof. But don't flatter yourself. I don't touch broken Collaterals. "

He was sending a message to the entire Blackwell empire: I was his property, and touching me meant death. But I knew the beast beneath his tailored suit was starving.

I stood up slowly, feigning a weak wince. The black silk robe I had been given after Dr. Weaver bandaged my wounds slipped off one shoulder. I clutched it to my chest, but not before the fresh white bandages wrapped tightly around my torso were fully visible—along with the faint traces of blood that had already begun to seep through the gauze.

The air in the room instantly thickened. I heard his breath hitch.

The predator was awake. Dante took a slow, heavy step toward me, his dark eyes fixated on my ruined skin. The scent of his bespoke cologne wrapped around me, suffocating and intoxicating. He was going to break his own rule.

I shrank back, retreating to the velvet chaise lounge like a terrified doe. I pulled the silk up, clutching it to my chest, and lowered my eyelashes.

"I know your heart will always belong to Ellen," I whispered, my voice breaking with perfect, tragic fragility. "I would never presume to squeeze into a heart that is already full."

Dante froze mid-step. The name of his dead fiancée struck him like a physical blow. The violent war between his primal lust and his sacred ghost raged in his clenched jaw. He stared at me, his chest heaving, before he let out a harsh, mocking sneer. He turned his broad back to me, walking toward the far side of the penthouse without another word.

Checkmate.

When I woke the next morning, the agonizing fire in my back was gone. Instead, a cooling, medicinal sensation coated my skin. Last night, Dr. Weaver had dressed my wounds while I was still conscious, his swift hands wrapping the bandages I had used to bait Dante. But now, the fresh, icy tingle beneath the gauze told me the ointment had been reapplied while I slept—potent, black-market, and unmistakably ordered by the Don himself. Dante hadn't touched me, but he had commanded my healing in the dark.

Enzo, Dante's most trusted Capo, was waiting by the door. "Signorina Moreno," he said, his tone carrying a newfound, profound respect. "I will escort you to the East Wing."

The East Wing Lounge was bathed in morning light, but the atmosphere was toxic. As I walked in, flawlessly composed, Kelsey stood by the espresso machine. The color drained from her face. She had expected me to be carried out in a body bag.

Nearby, Sasha, the Bratva Collateral, narrowed her eyes. She took in my unblemished face and the haunting resemblance I bore to the ghost that haunted this estate. Pure, calculating hostility flashed in her gaze.

Kelsey recovered quickly, her eyes darting to my bare neck.

"No Claiming Gift?" Kelsey mocked, her voice loud enough for Mia and Chloe to hear. "I suppose surviving the night doesn't mean you actually won the Don's favor. You're still just a debtor's daughter."

She stepped forward, plastering on a sickeningly sweet smile. "But I was so worried about you, sister," she cooed, wrapping her arms around me in a sudden, tight embrace.

Beneath the fabric of my dress, I felt her sharp acrylic nails dig viciously into the exact spot where Katheryn's leather belt had sliced my flesh. She was waiting for me to scream, to break down in agony and become the pathetic joke of the estate.

But Dante's ointment was a miracle of the underworld. I felt the pressure of her nails, but absolutely no pain.

I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink. I simply raised my porcelain cup, took a slow sip of my black coffee, and curved my lips into a chilling, mocking smile right against her ear.

Kelsey pulled back slowly, her eyes wide with absolute, unadulterated panic.