Elara's POV.

"Uhh..uhhh..." A loud cry escaped my mouth as I gripped onto the sheets for an anchor.

I'd never felt more vulnerable, and raw before. My emotions were all over the place, each stroke

a mixture of pain and pleasure.

The feeling was thrilling.

I hadn't told Dante that I was a virgin, I didn't think that was necessary information. Also, I didn't want him to hold back, his body view had already caused a tingly sensation in-between my legs and I just wanted to feel all of inside me.

"mmmhhmm..." My back arched into him, I almost thought I'd snap.

He held my hands above my head and placed my legs over his shoulders. This was the most

alive I'd felt in years. It felt like a breath of fresh air.

He plunged forward again and a sharp gasp escaped my throat making me roll my eyes to the back and curling my toes.

The night unfolded with my hair looking like a bed's nest and legs shaky. Dante had helped me

into the shower to clean up and placed me back into bed to rest.

That little display of care made me think for a split second, maybe, just maybe, I might enjoy

living here.

Unfortunately, I spoke too soon. I woke up the next morning, hoping Dante might give me a hug

or something after such an intimate night.

Maybe a little hello would have sufficed, but when I walked into the living room, he acted like

he'd never even seen me before and simply walked out of the house.

Some people are just inbuilt assholes.

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, we'd just met yesterday. He's probably not used to having people like me around.

Last night, he had been a force of nature: brutal, possessive, yet strangely attentive when he

carried my shaking body into the shower. This morning, I was a piece of furniture he was tired of looking at.

I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the ache in my thighs and the lingering sensitivity in

my skin. I needed coffee and maybe a textbook to keep my mind busy.

I was halfway to the kitchen when the massive front doors swung open again. I froze, thinking

Dante had forgotten something, perhaps his conscience, but a different man stepped inside

instead.

He was tall, lean, and dressed in a cashmere sweater and grey slacks.

Unlike Dante, whose hair was always slicked back, this man's dark curls were slightly messy,

falling over his forehead.

He stopped when he saw me, his eyebrows arching in surprise.

"Well," he paused. "The rumors didn't do you justice. You must be the new Mrs. Moretti."

I straightened my posture, trying to hide the fact that I was wearing an oversized t-shirt and no

shoes.

"And you are?"

He stepped forward, extending a hand.

"Lorenzo. Dante's younger, much more likable brother. Though, considering who we're comparing me to, that's a low bar to clear."

I took his hand. His grip was firm but gentle, his skin warm."Elara."

"I know," he said, flashing his perfect white teeth."The genius med student. My brother usually buys tech companies or shipping lines; I was surprised to hear he'd acquired a surgeon-in-training. It's a bit outside his usual portfolio."

I pulled my hand back, feeling a flush creep up my neck.

"It's a contract, Lorenzo. Not an acquisition"

"With Dante, there's no difference," he replied. He walked toward the marble island in the

kitchen, gesturing for me to follow.

"Have you had breakfast? The staff makes a decent espresso, but I usually have to make my own if I want it done right. Dante likes his coffee like his heart, black and bitter."

I found myself leaning against the counter, watching him move. He had this boyish energy that Dante had clearly lost decades ago. He looked like an artist, or a professor, or someone who actually enjoyed the sun.

"I haven't eaten yet," I admitted.

"Sit," he commanded gently, pointing to a stool. "I'll make us something. And don't worry, I don't bite."

As he moved around the kitchen, he actually talked to me. He asked about my studies, what I

specialized in, and if I'd read the latest publication on neuroplasticity.

"Dante doesn't deserve you, you know," Lorenzo said suddenly, handing me a plate of avocado

toast and a steaming cup of coffee.

"He's a machine. He sees the world in spreadsheets and bloodlines. He's forgotten how to be a person."

"He's my husband," I said, though the word felt wrong.

Lorenzo leaned against the opposite counter, his gaze lingering on my face. Up close, he was devastatingly handsome. He had the same strong Moretti jawline as Dante, but his features

were more softened.

"He's a signature on a paper, Elara. Don't let him freeze you out. This house is a tomb if you don't find someone to talk to." He winked at me, a playful, charming gesture that made my heart

skip a beat out of a sudden, sharp attraction.

I took a sip of the coffee. It was perfect. I looked at Lorenzo, then back toward the door where

Dante had vanished. One brother was a cold, distant mountain of ice. The other was a warm,

vibrant light.

I felt a dangerous thought cross my mind as I watched Lorenzo smile at me again.

At least if one wouldn't shower me with love and affection, I'd have the other.

Elara's POV.

The mansion was always cold, but the library was the only room that felt like a real room and

not a museum.

I was hunched over a heavy textbook on cardiovascular pathology when the door creaked. I didn't have to look up to know it was Lorenzo. He had been my only companion for the past week. While Dante was off in the city, presumably breaking bones or making billions, Lorenzo was here.

He was the only one to have a conversation with me that didn't involve a "Yes, Mrs. Moretti"

from the staff.

"You're going to go blind reading in this light, Elara," Lorenzo said. He walked over and turned

on a brass lamp next to my chair.

I looked up, rubbing my eyes.

"I have to keep up. If I stop studying, I'll forget everything I know. I'm a doctor, Lorenzo. Not a decorative vase."

Lorenzo leaned against the edge of the desk, dangerously close to my personal space. He

reached out and traced the edge of the book.

"You're far more than a doctor."

He looked at me with an intensity that made the air in the room feel thick. For a week, he had

been the perfect gentleman.....my perfect gentleman.

"Dante hasn't come home in two days," I said, trying to change the subject.

"Dante is a fool," Lorenzo whispered. He stood up and walked behind my chair. I felt his hands

settle on my shoulders. His touch was warm."He has the most incredible woman in New York

under his roof, and he treats her like a line item in a budget. He doesn't see you, Elara. Not the

way I do."

I should have moved, but I was lonely. I was a twenty one year old girl who had been brought

into a life of silence. Lorenzo's attention felt like a drug, a very addictive one.

He moved around the chair and knelt in front of me.

He took my hands in his.

"I see the way you look at the gates. You're trapped. And it kills me to know that he's the one who has the key."

"It's just a year, Lorenzo," I said, my voice trembling."That was the deal."

"A year is a long time to be unloved," he said. He stood up, pulling me closer to him.

The distance between us vanished. I could smell the expensive cologne on his neck and the faint scent of peppermint.

Lorenzo reached out, his thumb grazing my lower lip. It was a soft, tentative movement that

made my breath hitch. He wasn't demanding like Dante; he was asking.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, though I didn't pull away.

"Elara," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

He leaned in. I could feel the heat radiating off him. My heart was racing, a mix of guilt and a

desperate need for someone to actually want me.

His face was inches from mine. I closed my eyes, waiting for the contact, waiting for the spark

that would finally burn through the ice in this house.

The heavy double doors of the library slammed open against the stone walls.

"Get your hands off her."

I jumped back, nearly tripping over the chair. Lorenzo stood his ground.

Dante stood in the doorway, he looked like he had just stepped out of a war zone. His coat was

open, his tie was gone, and his eyes were not just cold, they were murderous.

"Dante," Lorenzo started, his voice cracking slightly. "We were just...."

Dante moved faster than I thought a man of his size could. In three strides, he was across the

room.

He didn't argue. He grabbed Lorenzo by the collar of his sweater and slammed him back

against a bookshelf. Several books tumbled to the floor, the sound echoing like falling bricks.

"Dante, stop!" I screamed, my hands flying to my mouth.

Dante ignored me.

He had Lorenzo pinned, his forearm pressed against his brother's throat.

"I told you to stay away from her, Enzo. I told you she was off-limits."

"She's a human being, Dante! Not a dog you leave in a kennel!" Lorenzo choked out, struggling against his brother's grip.

Dante's face was inches from Lorenzo's.

"She is my wife. She carries my name. And if I ever see you touching what belongs to me again, I won't care that we share the same blood. I will bury you in the garden. Do you understand me?"

He didn't wait for an answer, he threw Lorenzo aside like he was nothing more than a rag doll.

Lorenzo slumped against the shelves, gasping for air and rubbing his neck.

Dante turned his gaze to me. I felt like a rabbit caught in the sights of a wolf. The possessiveness in his eyes was terrifying.

"Upstairs," Dante commanded.

"No," I said, my voice shaking but firm.

"You can't just walk in here and......"

Dante didn't let me finish. He stepped into my space, his presence completely swallowing me.

He leaned down, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"You belong to me, Elara. You signed the contract, you are mine until I say otherwise. If you think you can find comfort in my brother's bed because I'm not here to watch you, you are sadly mistaken."

"I...it...it wasn't like that," I stammered.

"I don't care what it was like," he snapped. He reached out and grabbed my arm. His grip was

strong, It didn't hurt, but it was unyielding."You will go to your room. You will stay there until I

come for you. And if I find Lorenzo within ten feet of you again, the contract is void, the money is gone, and you'll be back in that gutter within the hour."

He dragged me toward the door. I looked back at Lorenzo, he looked furious.

"Don't look at him!" Dante roared, jerking my arm.

He pulled me out of the library and up the grand staircase. The staff vanished like roaches. He

didn't stop until we reached my bedroom.

He threw the door open and shoved me inside.

I turned around, my anger finally bubbling over.

"You can't treat me like this! I'm not a prisoner!"

Dante stepped into the room and locked the door behind him.

He began to unbutton his shirt.

"You are exactly what I say you are," Dante said. He tossed his shirt onto a chair, revealing the

scars on his chest.

"You want attention, Elara? You want to be seen? Fine. I'll give you all the attention you can handle."

He walked toward me.

"You're going to learn tonight," he whispered, backing me up against the

bed.

"You're going to learn exactly who you belong to."

I reached back, my hand hitting the mattress. My heart was thudding so hard I could feel it in my

ears. I had wanted him to notice me, but this... this was a storm I wasn't sure I could survive.

And I loved it.

"Dante," I whispered.

"What?" He growled, reaching out to cup my jaw, his thumb pressing firmly into my cheek.

"You want me to stop?"

I didn't respond, I didn't want him to. If this was the only way I could have him, I would, but I

won't give him the benefit of my vulnerability.

He didn't wait for an answer. He crashed his lips onto mine. But before he could take another

breath, I flipped him over and his back landed on the bed.

"My way." I said as I sat on his lap.

Elara's POV.

The sun was high when I finally opened my eyes.

I turned my head and gasped, Dante was still there.

He wasn't sleeping, he was propped up on

one elbow, watching me.

For a moment, the terror of the previous night in the library flashed through my mind. I expected

a lecture or a cold shoulder. Instead, Dante leaned forward. He didn't say a word as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.

"Good morning, beautiful." he said. His voice was deep, lacking the usual gravelly edge of a command.

"You're still here," I whispered, pulling the silk sheet higher up my chest.

"I have a busy day, but I wanted to be here when you woke up." He reached out and brushed a

strand of hair away from my eye.

"There is a gala tonight. A masquerade ball. It is an important event for the Moretti family, and it will be your first official appearance as my wife."

"I don't have anything to wear for something like that," I said.

Dante sat up.

"I've already handled it. A team will be here at noon. Do whatever they say. I want the world to see exactly what belongs to me."

He got out of bed, but before he left the room, he stopped at the door. He looked back and did

something I thought was physically impossible for him. He smiled. It wasn't a smirk or a grin of

triumph. It was a genuine, small smile.

Then he was gone. I sat there in the silence, stunned. The man who had threatened to bury his brother yesterday was calling me beautiful today. I didn't know which version of Dante was more dangerous.

At exactly noon, a woman named Celine arrived with four assistants. They carried rolling racks

of clothes and makeup kits.

"Mr. Moretti was very specific," Celine said as she began to inspect my skin. "He called three

times this morning to check on the progress. He wants you to look extraordinary."

"For real?" I asked, sitting still as they began to prep my hair.

"Yep," Celine said with a shrug.

"Usually, he just sends a credit card and a list of requirements. With you, he sounded more involved."

For the next four hours, I was poked, prodded, and polished. They did my hair in a sophisticated

updo that left my neck bare, leaving a few dark strands to fall over my face.

My makeup was dark, smoky eyes and a neutral lip.

Then came the dress.

It was a silver silk gown. It was long, hugging my hips and flowing down to the floorl. When I

turned around in the mirror, I realized the back was completely gone.

The silk draped low, exposing every inch of my spine down to the small of my back. It was the

most expensive thing I had ever touched. To finish it off, Celine handed me a black mask.

I was standing in the center of the room when the door opened. Dante walked in, already

dressed in a black tuxedo.

He didn't speak for a long time. He just walked around me, his eyes taking in the dress, the hair,

and the skin.

"Perfect," he murmured. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box. Inside was a

diamond necklace. He stepped behind me, his fingers cold against my skin as he fastened the

clasp.

"Stay close to me tonight, Elara. The people at this ball are not our friends."

Our.

The gala was held at a historic hotel downtown. Dante's hand was a permanent fixture on the

small of my back as we moved through the crowd.

"Dante! A beautiful choice," a man in a gold mask said, nodding toward me.

"Exceptional isn't she?" Dante asked rhetorically. His voice was polite.

I felt like a trophy, but a well-protected one. For the first time since I'd signed that contract, I felt

like Dante was actually proud to have me by his side.

We were standing near the champagne, Dante's grip on my waist tightened.

"Something is wrong," he whispered into my ear.

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking around the smiling faces of the elite.

"The security at the doors. They aren't mine."

Before I could ask another question, every light in the ballroom went out. The music stopped

abruptly. For three seconds, there was total silence. Then, the screaming started.

The sound of gunfire shattered the glass windows. Panicked socialites trampled one another, trying to reach the exits.

"Down!" Dante shouted. He tackled me to the floor just as a burst of bullets hissed over our

heads, shattering a massive crystal chandelier above where we had been standing.

Glass rained down on us. I felt a sharp sting on my shoulder, but I didn't have time to check for

blood or cry.

Dante was already dragging me toward the service entrance. He pulled a handgun from a

holster I hadn't even noticed under his tuxedo jacket.

He fired back into the darkness, three times.

"Keep your head down and stay on my heels," Dante commanded. "If I tell you to run, you run, and you don't look back. Do you hear me?"

"Yes." I gasped, my heart hammering so hard I thought it would burst through my ribs.

We reached the back exit that led to the alleyway. Dante kicked the door open and we burst outside.

The rain had started to fall. My silver dress was ruined, but I didn't care. I just wanted to breathe.

"We need to get to the car," Dante said, scanning the alley. His chest was heaving, his eyes darting back and forth.

We ran toward the end of the alley where his security team was supposed to be waiting. The

street was empty, no black SUVs and no guards.

"Where are they?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Dante didn't answer. He stopped moving and pulled me behind a brick dumpster. He looked at

the rooftops.

"Elara, don't move," he said. His voice was suddenly very calm.

"Dante?"

"Look at your chest. Do not move a muscle."

I looked down, right over my heart was a tiny perfectly round red dot.

A sniper.