Hanging up, I offered a clipped excuse. "Family business." Dante didn't press, his expression dismissive.

My voice was ice.

"What are you doing in my house?"

Dante sank onto the sofa as if he owned the place, crossing his long legs.

"I want to reserve the entire top-floor restaurant your family owns. I'm throwing a welcome party for Isabella. I remember she likes the ocean, and that place has the best view. Let me have it for a day."

He patted my shoulder, his touch making my skin crawl.

"We're the best of friends. You'll help me win her over, right?"

Friends. There it was again.

Dante had to drop that word into every other sentence. Was he trying to remind me not to get any ideas?

Too bad for him. He was wasting his breath.

"Fine. Whatever you want."

I couldn't be bothered to waste another breath on him and turned to go upstairs.

Behind me, I caught the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

The next day, as soon as I arrived at the restaurant, I was hit by the scent of a thousand air-freighted Blue Enchantress roses. The room was a fairytale landscape.

Dante had said he planned to propose to Isabella here tonight; of course he'd pour his heart into it.

I remembered a time I’d casually mentioned I liked roses.

Dante had sneered.

"Aria, how old are you? We've slept together hundreds of times. What do you need flowers for? It's tacky."

Now, breathing in the extravagant floral scent, I finally understood.

It wasn't that Dante didn't understand romance; it was simply a question of who he deemed worthy of it.

Two hours later, the party began.

The city's underworld elite, along with Isabella, arrived in a steady stream.

After seven years, her every move was still polished, elegant, and regal.

Dante's eyes were glued to her, constantly steering the conversation back her way.

Finally, someone couldn't resist a joke.

"Dante, you and our Principessa here, you two about to make it official?"

Dante's expression soured instantly. He snapped, "What are you talking about? Aria and I have a bond forged in blood. We're friends. Don't you dare tarnish Isabella's reputation with that talk."

"Besides, I like classy, pure women like Isabella. That scar on Aria's back from taking that bullet for me? It's ugly as sin, like a centipede. I lose my appetite just looking at it. How could I ever be with her?"

My breath hitched. My nails dug into my palms so hard I thought I'd draw blood.

Five years ago, drunk and pining for Isabella, Dante had provoked a rival family.

At the critical moment, I threw myself in front of him and took the bullet.

A deep, jagged scar remained on my back.

At the time, Dante's eyes had been so red I thought they would bleed. He swore to God his life was mine.

He said he would spend the rest of his life protecting me, that he would never let me suffer so much as a scratch.

But now, just to put distance between us for Isabella's sake, he was parading my sacrifice in public like a dirty secret.

"Dante, that's cruel. Aria is a woman, you can't speak about her that way."

Just as the air grew thick with tension, Isabella spoke up, her voice soft.

Dante immediately clicked his tongue.

"Aria's no delicate flower. She's got thicker skin and a stronger stomach than any man in this room."

"Don't worry about it, Isabella. We've known each other for years. I know her better than anyone."

"Isn't that right, Aria?"

With that, in a blind spot where no one could see, Dante’s hand shot out and squeezed the soft flesh of my inner thigh, a silent command for me to agree.

Disgusted, I slapped his hand away and said coldly, "Are you kidding, Dante? Seven years ago, you were thrown away like a dog. Now, the second she's back, you're on your knees fawning over her."

"You seem to have forgotten how you acted like your world was ending. When it comes to having a strong stomach, nobody here can beat you."

The moment the words left my mouth, the entire room fell silent.

Dante's face turned thunderous, his knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists. With a roar, he grabbed a whiskey bottle and smashed it on the floor.

"Aria!"

I glared right back, unflinching.

Sensing a storm brewing, the others quickly tried to smooth things over, suggesting a game of Texas Hold'em as a distraction.

As if to punish me, whenever Dante won a hand, his 'dare' was always some flirtatious interaction with Isabella.

But if he lost, the 'Truth' he had to answer was always about me.

"Who in this room are you least likely to marry? Obviously, Aria. A mafia princess without a single suitor. I thought she had a good personality, but it turns out she has a temper."

"What would you do if you had to marry the person you hate the most? I'd rather die than marry Aria," he scoffed. "And if I had to, I'd be out with other women every night. Having to face someone you don't love is torture."

"In all these years, have you ever been physically aroused by Aria?"

At this question, an expression of pure insult crossed Dante's face.

"Seriously, who the hell came up with such a disgusting question? A woman like Aria is no different from a man. Forget aroused, I feel sick just touching her!"

I couldn't listen anymore. I smashed my own glass on the floor and used the commotion as an excuse to escape to the terrace.

The cold night air hit my face, and I realized I wasn't sad anymore. I was just disgusted.

After a long time, I composed myself and pushed the door open to leave.

But as I passed a secluded alcove, I overheard Dante talking to a trusted Soldato.

"You went too far just now, Capo. After all, the Principessa has been through hell and back for you. Do you really not have a single shred of affection for her?"

Dante lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around his frustrated face.

"How many times do I have to say it? I keep Aria around for two reasons. One, she's loyal as a goddamn dog and lets me do whatever I want. Two, she comes with no strings attached. Understand?"

"I see her as a useful friend. That's it. Not a trace of romance."

My feet froze. My already shattered heart was ground into dust.

I knew the truth, but hearing the confession from his own lips was like death by a thousand cuts.

"Dante."

I spoke his name suddenly, stepping out from the shadows.

Dante flinched, clearly not expecting me. He asked instinctively, "You… you heard that?"

I didn't answer. Seeing the sudden, strange tension, the Soldato beside him mumbled an excuse and quickly vanished.

It was Dante who broke the silence. He walked toward me, crushing his cigarette out with a smirk.

"What, are you angry?"

"There's no need, Aria. Everything I said was the truth. What happens in bed is consensual. If you didn't agree, I couldn't have forced you."

"Alright, don't look so miserable. It makes it seem like I bullied you."

After saying that, he actually had the gall to reach for my waist.

I recoiled, pushing him away on pure instinct, then slapped him hard across the face.

"Don't touch me! You're filthy!"

Dante’s anger flared, but he froze when he saw the tears welling in my eyes.

"Dante, yes, I admit it. I love you."

"But that doesn't give you the right to trample all over my loyalty! I am not a tool for you to vent your frustrations on!"

"If you don't like me, you could have just said so. I'm not the kind of woman who begs!"

"From now on, I wish you and Isabella a long and happy life together. Now, please, stop harassing me."

With that, I turned and left without a backward glance.

From the main room, I could hear Isabella's delicate laughter, the center of attention.

But Dante seemed deaf to it, his eyes fixed blankly on my retreating back.

For some reason, a sudden surge of panic seized him.

It felt as if something incredibly important was slipping through his fingers.

In the end, however, he didn't dwell on it.

He let out a derisive snort and walked back toward Isabella.

He knew Aria. In a few days, she'd come crawling back, begging for his forgiveness.

...

After the welcome party ended, I called in a crew to clean up the mess.

That night, exhausted, I sank into the sofa when a message from Isabella popped up, a video attached.

"Aria, Dante seems to be drunk..."

I opened it and saw Dante, shirtless, murmuring Isabella's name in a drunken stupor.

Over and over, he begged her not to leave him.

My hand tightened on my phone, but a moment later, I deleted his number, his encrypted contact, everything.

From now on, he was a stranger.

I never could have imagined, however, what would happen next.

When I woke up the next day, I discovered my private photos had been plastered all over the underground forums of the entire criminal underworld.