I woke to sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows and Dante's arm still wrapped around my waist.
For a moment, I just lay there, memorizing the feel of him—the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his skin, the way his body curved protectively around mine.
Then reality crashed back.
I'd spent the night in Dante Morelli's bed. The entire household would know by now. Mrs. Chen would have noticed my absence, the security cameras would have caught me entering his suite.
My cover was compromised. My mission endangered.
And I couldn't bring myself to care.
"You're thinking too loud," Dante murmured, his voice rough with sleep. "I can practically hear your brain spiraling."
"The household—"
"Knows to mind their own business." He pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "Stay. Just a few more minutes."
"Dante—"
"Please."
The vulnerability in that single word broke me. I relaxed back against him, giving us both this stolen moment.
"I meant what I said last night," he said quietly. "About wanting out. About you making me want to be better."
"That's a lot of pressure to put on one person."
"You're not just one person. You're—" He turned me to face him, and the intensity in his eyes stole my breath. "You're everything."
He kissed me then, slow and deep and thorough, and I felt myself drowning in him. In this impossible, doomed love that I couldn't seem to stop.
A knock at the door shattered the moment.
"Boss, we have a problem." It was Marco, Dante's right-hand man. "Viktor Kozlov is here. And he's not alone."
Dante's expression went cold instantly. "I'll be right there."
He turned back to me, his thumb brushing my lips. "Stay here. Don't go downstairs until he's gone."
"Why? What does he want?"
"Nothing good." His jaw clenched. "I humiliated him at the dinner party. Men like Viktor don't forget that."
Fear spiked through me. "Be careful."
"Always." He kissed me fiercely. "Wait for me."
He dressed rapidly, transforming from the tender man who'd held me all night into the cold crime boss the world knew. Watching the change was jarring.
This was his reality. Violence and danger and power plays. And I was neck-deep in it now.
---
I waited in his suite as instructed, but anxiety gnawed at me. Something felt wrong.
After twenty minutes, I crept to the door and eased it open a crack.
Voices drifted up from downstairs. Dante's, cold and controlled. Viktor's, oily and threatening.
"—disrespected in front of your associates," Viktor was saying. "I'm owed compensation."
"You're owed nothing. I told you my staff aren't for sale."
"Not even the pretty one? The one you're fucking?"
Silence. Then Dante's voice, deadly quiet: "Watch yourself, Viktor."
"Or what? You'll kill me like you killed that traitor last month? We all know you're your father's son, Morelli. Cold. Ruthless. You just hide it better."
"This meeting is over. Get out of my house."
"I'll leave. But this isn't finished. You owe me, Dante. And I always collect my debts."
The threat hung in the air.
I heard movement, doors slamming, then Dante's voice: "Marco, increase security. I want eyes on Kozlov until he's out of the state."
Footsteps on the stairs. I barely had time to step back before Dante entered his suite, his face like thunder.
"I told you to wait here," he said, Looking exhausted.
"I was worried."
His expression softened marginally. "He's gone. For now."
"What did he want?"
"To remind me that I made an enemy." Dante ran a hand through his hair. "He'll retaliate. It's just a matter of when and how."
"Because of me. Because you wouldn't sell Sophie."
"Because he's a vindictive bastard who can't handle being told no." Dante pulled me against him, holding tight. "This isn't your fault, Elena. This is my world. The world I was born into."
"The world you want to leave."
"Yes. But leaving isn't simple. There are obligations, loyalties, debts. People who depend on me." He pulled back to look at me. "Which is why I need to ask you something."
"What?"
"How much do you trust me?"
The question caught me off guard. "What do you mean?"
"I mean—" He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "I'm planning something. Something that could change everything. But it's dangerous, and it requires absolute secrecy. I need to know if you're with me."
My heart pounded. "What kind of something?"
"I can't tell you yet. Not until I know it's safe. But if I pull this off, we could leave. Both of us. Start over somewhere clean." His eyes searched mine. "Would you come with me? If I asked?"
This was it. The moment where I had to choose.
The FBI had enough evidence to move soon. I could end this now, walk away, let justice take its course. Dante would go to prison, the organization would fall, and my family would be avenged.
Or I could stay. See what he was planning. Maybe—just maybe—find another way.
A way where we both survived.
"Yes," I heard myself say. "I'd come with you."
The relief on his face was beautiful and heartbreaking.
"Thank you," he breathed, pulling me close. "Thank you for trusting me."
But I wasn't trusting him. I was betraying him.
And sooner or later, we'd both pay the price for that.