Ice. That's what the next two weeks felt like. An impenetrable wall of ice formed between Dante and me. I moved through the penthouse like a ghost, avoiding him whenever he was nearby. I ate my meals with Elara in the kitchen, worked on my internship files in my room, and spoke only when someone addressed me. The fear I felt was real, a tight knot in my stomach that tightened every time I heard his footsteps in the hall. He had killed a man. I had watched him do it. There was no going back from that.
He made no effort to break the silence. He was more withdrawn than ever, a dark presence that seemed to drain the warmth from every room he entered. If he sensed my fear, he gave no sign.
Aria was caught in the middle, her gaze shifting between us with worried confusion. "Did you two have a fight?" she asked one afternoon.
"Your brother and I don't have the kind of relationship where we can fight," I replied, avoiding the truth.
The only thing that disrupted the frozen silence was the upcoming Moretti Enterprises Annual Charity Gala. It was the social event of the season, a big fundraiser for the children's hospital founded by Dante and Aria's late mother. Aria explained that attendance was mandatory.
"I don't want to go," I stated flatly when she mentioned it.
"Please, Bella," she begged, her eyes pleading. "It's the one night a year Dante lets his guard down, just a little. It's for our mom. It's the only time he feels close to her. I can't face all those people alone. Please don't leave me alone with him right now."
Her words, along with the genuine fear in them, struck a chord. She was trapped in this situation just as much as I was. For her, I could endure one night of pretending to be with a killer. "Okay," I whispered. "For you."
On the night of the gala, a deep sapphire silk gown was laid out on my bed. A note from Elara said it was a gift. I knew who it was really from. It fit perfectly, a silent, possessive claim. When I stepped out, my hair swept up and my face a mask of calm, Dante was waiting in the living area. He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, looking less like a businessman and more like a dark prince from a dangerous story.
His eyes swept over me, and for a moment, his mask slipped. I saw a flash of raw, unguarded hunger in his gaze that made my skin tingle with an unwanted awareness. He quickly concealed it. "You look… acceptable," he said, his voice a low growl.
The gala was an overwhelming display of wealth and power. Billionaires, politicians, and celebrities filled the grand ballroom, orbiting around Dante. He was the center of attention in this glittering universe. He kept Aria and me close, his hand resting possessively on the small of my back, a silent warning to the circling vultures. He introduced us simply. "My sister, Aria. And my close friend, Isabella Rossi." The words marked a public claim, drawing a clear line around us.
For hours, I watched him navigate this world with ease. He was charming when he needed to be, intimidating when he chose, the master of his domain. It was both intoxicating and terrifying to witness.
Midway through the evening, as a string quartet played softly, Leo appeared at Dante's side, whispering urgently. The warmth in Dante's expression vanished, replaced by icy cold.
"There's a situation at the port," he said to us, his voice low and tight. "A territorial dispute. I have to handle it myself."
He turned, fixing his gaze on me. "The night is over for you. A car is waiting at the south entrance. Julian will take you straight back to the tower. Do you understand? Straight back." The order was final.
He and Leo disappeared through a service exit, swallowed by the shadows. My relief at his departure was so strong it made me dizzy. A different guard, Julian, who sometimes shadowed me, appeared and escorted us out.
We slipped into the back of a black sedan, the familiar comfort of the leather seats doing little to ease my frayed nerves. As the car pulled away from the glittering ballroom, I leaned my head against the cool glass, while Aria sighed beside me.
But a few blocks later, unease crept down my spine. The driver took a left turn where he should have gone straight.
"This isn't the way back to the tower," Aria said, voicing my own thoughts.
The driver didn't respond. A quiet click echoed through the car. The locks.
My heart pounded in my chest. I looked at Aria, her eyes wide with the same dawning horror I felt. At that moment, a black SUV without headlights swerved out of a dark alley, blocking our path and forcing our driver to a screeching halt. A second one appeared behind us, trapping us.
Masked figures swarmed our car, the butts of their rifles shattering the reinforced windows. As glass rained down on us and strong hands reached for me and Aria, my last clear thought was a blast of cold, sickening realization.
This wasn't random. The gala, the "emergency" at the port—it had all been a diversion. Someone Dante trusted, someone he had personally assigned to protect us, had just delivered us to the enemy.