"Revenge burns hottest when dressed in silk."
— Dante Moretti
Three Days Later
I watched the casket lower into the ground, the rain falling like shattered glass on black umbrellas. My brother Matteo's face, once filled with arrogance and charm, now lay hidden beneath six feet of dirt — just another pawn in a game none of us could escape.
They said he died a hero.
But I knew the truth.
Dante Moretti killed him.
And I... kissed his murderer.
My fingernails dug into my palm as the priest mumbled hollow words. Every Valente soldier stood around me in dark coats, heads lowered, hands on holsters. But I wasn't mourning. I was calculating.
I would make him pay. Even if I had to lie, bleed, or sell my soul.
A hand brushed mine.
Father Lorenzo Valente — the man who once ruled this city with a smile and a cigar — now looked like a ghost. Grief had emptied him. And desperation had made him dangerous.
"You'll do it, Seraphina," he whispered.
My jaw clenched. "Do what?"
His eyes never left the coffin. "Marry him."
I turned sharply. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"The Council wants peace. A marriage alliance. You and Moretti."
A laugh escaped me — bitter and broken. "You want me to marry the man who killed your son?"
"I want to save what's left of this family."
I didn't respond. I couldn't. My legs moved on their own, walking away from the crowd, through the mud and rain, toward the waiting black car.
And there he stood.
Dante.
Leaning against his sleek matte-black Maserati, cigarette between his lips, eyes locked on me like I was the only war left worth fighting.
I hated how beautiful he looked in a funeral suit.
I hated that I noticed.
He flicked the cigarette away as I approached. "Did you cry for him?"
My hand slapped across his face before I even registered it.
His head turned, but he didn't react. His cheek bloomed red, but his eyes stayed calm. Dangerous.
"You son of a bitch," I hissed.
He stepped closer.
"Slap me again," he said softly, "and I'll make you scream in ways you've never imagined."
My breath caught.
Not in fear.
In need.
Fuck.
Later That Night – Valente Estate
The terms were set.
A marriage in two weeks.
One bed. One contract. One silent war behind every kiss.
If I wanted revenge... I had to sleep beside the devil first.
And pretend to love him.