"Well, well, well," Dante drawled. "Someone looks thoroughly fucked last night."
I turned my head slowly, fixing him with a glare as he strolled into the morning meeting like he owned the estate. Like he hadn't just inserted himself where he didn't belong.
Arturo had called the meeting over breakfast, strictly between the three of us. He knew I was flying back to New York today, which was something I had been required to report to him before I leave. I had barely slept the night before, and the lack of rest had left my patience thin. My mood was already soured before the meeting even started.
Dante, dressed in a black suit that looked tailored to arrogance, dropped into the chair directly across from mine. The smirk was already in place as he loosened his tie, casual, entitled, like this was his territory we were settling into.
Well, not for long.
Arturo entered the room before I could retort, claiming the seat between us.
My grandfather's seat.
It still felt uncanny to see him there, and I was sure he must've felt them too.
"Right," he said calmly. "Now that we're all here, Signor Dante, I must admit, I don't know much about you. I wasn't even aware that the late Signor Bianchi had twin sons."
"Unfortunately, he did," Dante replied smoothly. "Or were, I suppose, now that my older brother is dead." His slimy gaze slid to me, deliberately. "Though it wasn't my fault this time."
He pulled out an army knife, rolling it lazily between his fingers. Show off.
"Either way," Arturo cut in, pressing his palms to the table, fingers interlaced like a man at prayer, "I want the New York matter resolved. You will either find a way to work together, or you both will marry and secure the position before anyone else takes it."
"Can't I contest the will, zio?" I asked, turning to him. "We've never even seen the original. For all we know, it could be fabricated, or not exist at all."
"Well, I'll have you know—" Dante started.
Arturo lifted a single hand.
"I don't know how you were raised," he said coolly, turning to face him, "but we don't speak over our own. And certainly not the Capo's granddaughter."
Arturo, like my grandfather, was a traditionalist. They believed peace among Made Men was enforced through respect. And I couldn't agree more. After all, some of them, like Dante, desperately needed to be reminded of their place.
Dante's glare burned into me. I didn't even bother hiding my smirk.
Arturo turned back to me. "I've seen the will, Isolda. Our lawyers verified it. It's real," he said. "Your Nonno told me himself, before the accident. He instructed your late fiancé on what to do. This was his will, and I'm just following it."
"I understand," I said quietly, already making plans to have my lawyers pull the original out. I had to see it for myself.
Arturo studied us both, his gaze low and weighing. "I won't keep you long," he said. "New York needs one Capo. The sooner the better."
His eyes lingered on Dante, then returned to me.
"I don't care how you manage it," he continued flatly. "But the only way you both keep that city is through marriage. If not—" He paused, just long enough for the implication to settle. "You know what it takes." Death.
He pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. "Best of luck to the both of you."
And with that, he walked out.
The door closed behind him with a decisive click.
Silence settled, thick and heavy.
"So?" Dante drawled, still rolling the knife lazily between his fingers. "What do you think? Will you marry me?"
"Fuck no," I snapped.
I shoved my chair back, wood screeching against the floor as I stood. I was halfway to the door when his hand shot out, catching my wrist and twisting me back toward him. The room suddenly felt smaller. Too private.
I yanked my hand free. "What the fuck are you doing?" I hissed.
His tie hung loose now, just enough for the dark ink to peek from beneath his collar. My eyes betrayed me, flicking there out of curiosity for half a second too long. Enough for him to notice.
He chuckled. "Careful," he said softly. "I could show you all of them, if you'd like." A wink. "After all, we're practically engaged."
"I never agreed to marrying you," I hissed. "But I'll destroy you. That much is guaranteed."
His smile didn't falter. If anything, it widened. Slow and indulgent, like he was savoring it.
"Enemies to lovers," he said lightly. "I like it."
My eyes narrowed, but I refused to rise to it. I've wasted enough breath on him already. There were fires burning elsewhere, and I didn't intend to stand here feeding his ego. I turned and crossed the room, my steps measured, controlled.
"You know what it means, if you disagree to our union," he said.
My fingers tightened around the brass. For a brief moment, I considered slamming the door and letting that be my answer.
Instead, I turned.
"Then so be it," I said coolly. No fear. No hesitation. Just resolve. "If war is what it takes, then don't mistake my refusal for weakness."
His eyes gleamed, amused and dangerous.
I didn't bother waiting for his response.
I twisted the handle, stepped through the doorway and walked out, already crafting a plan to burn everything he thought he was entitled to.
I've barely made it three steps into the corridor before Sandro fell into stride beside me, silent as a shadow. He didn't ask questions, not yet at least, but his posture sharpened the moment he saw my expression. The way my jaw clenched. Eyes cold.
"Have the jet prepped," I said without slowing. "Standby. We're heading to New York."
He nodded. "When?"
"Tonight," I replied. "I'll meet you there."
"Yes, Signorina," he said immediately, already reaching for his earpiece.
We rounded the corner where the waiting staff knew better than to look up. Just as the front doors came into view, Sandro spoke again, more carefully this time.
"I should come with you."
I stopped long enough to turn my head, meeting his gaze. Whatever he saw there made him straighten further. I truly was not in the mood.
"No," I said evenly. "I'm just heading to one of the clubs. I can handle it alone." I paused, then added, deliberate. "Have some of your men stationed there if it helps you sleep. I need you on standby at the airport. Make sure nothing's wrong."
I didn't elaborate. I didn't need to.
He simply nodded, accepting the order.
It would've been easy, too easy, to plan something abroad the jet. An accident in the air. No witnesses. Less chance of survival. I wouldn't give anyone that opportunity, least of all Dante.
Outside, the sedan was already waiting, engine humming, door held open. I slid inside without looking back. The door shut with a solid click, sealing the decision behind me.
As the car pulled away from the estate, only then did I allow myself to breathe. Just a little. I slipped off my mask, not completely, but enough. My eyes fixed on the road ahead of me.
New York could wait a few more hours.
There was a promise I needed to collect first.