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.

Elara's POV.

I couldn't breathe.

It began raining, making the moment cinematic. I wasn't even a week in, yet my life is currently hanging on a thin thread.

​"Dante," I whispered, my voice caught in my throat.

​"I said don't move," Dante hissed. He was tense, his own weapon raised, but he couldn't see the shooter neither could I.

The sniper was high up, hidden among the gargoyles and HVAC units.

​"Dante, the dot," I said, my knees shaking. "It's not moving."

​"Relax."

​Suddenly, a shadow appeared from the darkness.

​"Elara!"

​It was Lorenzo. He was running toward us.

​"Lorenzo, stay back!" Dante shouted.

He lunged forward, his body colliding with mine just as a loud bomb-like sound echoed through the alley.

​The force of his tackle sent us both sprawling into the wet pavement. I felt the cold water soak into my gown.

​"Lorenzo?" I gasped, trying to push myself up.

​He didn't answer.

He was slumped against me, his weight heavy and limp. I reached out and felt something warm and thick. Even in the dim light, I knew it was blood.

​"He's hit!" I screamed.

​Dante fired four shots toward the roof of the building across the street. A muffled cry came from above, followed by the sound of a body hitting a metal dumpster further down the block.

​Dante scrambled over to us, his face a mask of fury and panic. He grabbed Lorenzo by the shoulder and flipped him over.

​"Enzo! Talk to me!" Dante demanded.

​Lorenzo groaned, his eyes fluttering open. The bullet had caught him in the fleshy part of his shoulder, near the collarbone. It was a messy wound, and the blood was pumping out fast.

​"Did... did I get it?" Lorenzo rasped, a weak grin spread across his face.

​"You're an idiot," Dante snapped. He stripped off his tuxedo jacket and pressed it hard against the wound.

​"A 'thank you' would be nice, brother," Lorenzo winced, his face twisting in pain.

"I just saved your wife. You're welcome."

​"I didn't ask you to do that," Dante growled, his jaw set tight. "I had it under control."

​"You had nothing under control!" Lorenzo shot back, his voice rising despite his weakness. "She was a second away from a hole in her chest!"

​"Shut up and hold this," Dante ordered, forcing Lorenzo's own hand onto the jacket. "We need to move. Now."

​I scrambled to my feet, my ruined dress clinging to my legs. "We need an ambulance. He's losing too much blood. It might have hit the subclavian artery."

​Dante pulled out his phone. "No signal. They're jamming the block."

​"The street," I said, pointing toward the main road. "We have to get to the street. Someone will pass by."

​"Grab his other side," Dante told me.

​We hauled Lorenzo up. He was a tall man, and even with both of us supporting him, it was a struggle. We dragged him toward the road, our shoes splashing through deep puddles.

​"You're getting blood on your pretty dress, Elara," Lorenzo joked, though his voice was becoming faint.

​"Don't talk," I said. "Save your energy."

​"Is he still bickering?" Dante muttered, his eyes scanning the rooftops and the street corners. "He's dying and he's still trying to be the center of attention."

​"At least I'm not a cold-hearted bastard," Lorenzo coughed. "Are you even worried about her, Dante?"

​"I said shut up, Enzo!" Dante's voice was like a whip. "Focus on walking."

​We reached the edge of the sidewalk.

The street was eerily empty.

​"There!" I shouted.

​A black sedan was idling at the red light half a block down. It wasn't one of Dante's SUVs, but at this point, it didn't matter.

​"Hey! Stop!" I waved my arms.

​The car accelerated toward us and screeched to a halt. The windows were heavily tinted.

​"Help us!" I cried, reaching for the rear door handle. "He's been shot!"

​The door unlocked instantly.

​"Get in," Dante said, shoving Lorenzo into the backseat first. I climbed in after him, and Dante followed, slamming the door shut.

​"Hospital," Dante told the driver. "New York Presbyterian. Move!"

​"Lorenzo, stay with me," I said, keeping pressure on his shoulder. I looked out the window, expecting to see the familiar turns toward the hospital.

​But the car didn't turn. It kept going straight, heading toward the industrial district near the piers.

​"Hey," Dante said, leaning forward. "You missed the turn. I said to the hospital."

​The driver remained silent. He reached out and pressed a button on the dashboard.

​"Dante," I said, my voice rising in alarm. "Where is he going?"

​"Turn this car around now!" Dante reached for the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. "The locks are on."

​Suddenly, a faint hissing sound filled the cabin. It was coming from the vents.

​"What is that?" I asked, sniffing the air.

​Dante's eyes went wide. "Gas. Elara, don't breathe it in!"

​"I'm trying!" I pulled the collar of my dress over my nose, but the air was already thick with it. My head began to spin. "Lorenzo, are you okay?"

​I looked down at Lorenzo. His head had fallen back against the seat. His eyes were rolled back, and his hand had slipped from his wound.

​"Lorenzo?" I shook him, but he didn't move.

​"Dante... I can't..." My vision was blurring. The car seemed to be stretching and folding.

​"Hold on, Elara," Dante gasped. He was fighting it, his hand clawing at the window glass, trying to break it. But his movements were slow, like he was moving through water.

​"Lorenzo!" I screamed one last time, but my voice was just a whisper.

​Dante's head slumped forward against the front seat.

My own body felt like lead.

I looked at the back of the driver's head, he hadn't flinched.

He was wearing an oxygen mask.

​The last thing I saw was the silver of my dress as everything turned pitch black.