DANTE POV
I'd been waiting for this moment for ten years.
Ten years since I first saw Giuliana Moretti at a family dinner in Rome. She was sixteen. I was twenty-two. Already Vittorio's enforcer. Already responsible for more deaths than most men see in a lifetime.
She walked into that dining room wearing a simple dress, carrying a book, completely out of place among the criminals and violence.
Something in my chest cracked open.
I told myself it was protective instinct. She was vulnerable. Young. Needed watching.
I told myself a thousand lies over ten years.
The truth was simpler and more terrifying.
From that moment, she became the only thing in my life that mattered more than survival.
Now she was here. Finally here.
Standing in the compound courtyard, looking lost and afraid and trying desperately to hide both.
I'd spent forty-eight hours preparing for her arrival. Securing the compound. Identifying every threat. Positioning loyal soldiers. Making sure that when she walked through those gates, she'd be as safe as I could make her.
But safe was relative when you inherited a criminal empire.
Vittorio's body was being loaded into the ambulance. Three bullets to the chest. Killed in his own study by someone he trusted.
The organization was bleeding.
Marco Castellano had already started positioning himself for leadership. Making calls. Building alliances. Spreading rumors that Giuliana was unfit to lead.
Isabella Moretti was sharpening her knives. Literally and figuratively.
The empire was fracturing.
And Giuliana walked into the middle of it without understanding what she was walking into.
I stood beside Vittorio's body and watched her car pull through the gates.
My heart was racing.
Pathetic for a man who'd killed dozens of people without flinching.
But this was different.
This was her.
The car stopped. The door opened.
Giuliana stepped out.
She looked exactly like I remembered. Except stronger. Older. More beautiful in ways that had nothing to do with physical appearance.
She looked like someone who'd spent six years becoming herself.
Dark hair pulled back. Simple clothes. No makeup. No jewelry.
Just Giuliana.
Perfect.
Her eyes scanned the courtyard. Taking everything in. Assessing.
Then they found mine.
The impact was physical.
Like being shot.
Like dying and coming back to life simultaneously.
I'd seen her face ten thousand times. In surveillance photos. In videos. In dreams that woke me up sweating.
But this was different.
This was her looking back.
This was her seeing me for the first time.
I wanted to walk over. Wanted to tell her I'd been waiting. Wanted to explain everything.
Instead, I stood perfectly still.
Because approaching her now, in front of the entire family, would reveal too much.
Would show everyone that she mattered.
And in this world, anything that mattered was a weapon someone could use against you.
So I watched.
Watched family members surround her. Watched them offer false sympathy. Watched her accept it with grace she shouldn't possess after six years away.
She was stronger than I expected.
Good.
She'd need that strength.
I forced myself to turn away. To walk back into the main house. To give her space.
But every instinct I had screamed to stay close.
To protect her.
To make sure nothing touched her.
The next two days were controlled chaos.
Funeral preparations. Security assessments. Managing the family's response to Vittorio's death.
And watching Giuliana.
Always watching Giuliana.
She moved through the compound like a ghost. Visiting her father's study. Meeting with Antonio Ricci. Avoiding most family members.
Smart.
Most of them wanted something from her. Power. Money. Blood.
Marco approached her three times. Each time, I was close enough to hear.
He was positioning himself as her advisor. Her guide. Her protector.
Translation: he wanted control.
I wanted to put a bullet in his skull.
But that would create more problems than it solved.
For now.
Isabella watched from the shadows. Always present. Never approaching.
She was waiting. Planning. Calculating the perfect moment to strike.
I documented everything. Every conversation. Every interaction. Every potential threat.
Old habits.
Useful habits when the woman you're protecting doesn't know she needs protecting.
The funeral was scheduled for the third day.
I spent the night before making final security arrangements. Checking weapons. Positioning soldiers.
Making sure that if anyone tried to hurt Giuliana, they'd have to go through me first.
And I'd make sure they never made it.
At dawn, I was standing in the courtyard when she emerged from the main house.
She wore black. Simple dress. Hair down for the first time since she'd arrived.
She looked beautiful and tragic and completely out of place.
She saw me watching.
Hesitated.
Then walked over.
My heart stopped.
"You're Dante Russo," she said.
Not a question.
"Yes."
"My father trusted you."
"He did."
"Should I?"
The question hung between us.
Honest. Direct. Dangerous.
I could lie. Should lie. Tell her yes, tell her I was loyal to Vittorio's memory, tell her anything except the truth.
Instead, I said: "That depends on what you're trusting me with."
Her eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"
"It means I'm very good at keeping people alive. I'm less good at everything else."
"And if I need more than just staying alive?"
"Then you should probably trust someone else."
She studied my face. Looking for something. Truth. Deception. I didn't know.
"Everyone keeps telling me I need protection," she said. "That I'm in danger. That I don't understand how things work here."
"They're right."
"Are you offering to protect me too?"
"No."
Surprise flickered across her face. "No?"
"You haven't asked yet."
"I'm asking now."
I stepped closer. Close enough to see gold flecks in her green eyes. Close enough to smell her perfume.
Close enough to be dangerous.
"Ask me after the funeral," I said quietly. "After you've seen what you're inheriting. After you've met the vultures who want to pick apart your father's empire. After you understand what protection actually costs."
"And what does it cost?"
"Everything."
Before she could respond, Victor Leone appeared. Calling her name. Needing her attention.
She looked between us. Torn.
Then she walked away.
I watched her go.
Watched her disappear into the crowd of mourners.
And felt something dark settle in my chest.
She was here. She was close. She was asking for protection.
Everything I'd spent ten years working toward was finally happening.
So why did it feel like I was about to ruin her?
The funeral was exactly what I expected.
Representatives from every major crime family in Europe. All of them circling. All of them assessing whether the Moretti empire was weak enough to challenge.
I positioned myself in the back of the chapel. Watching. Listening.
Marco sat in the front row. Playing the role of grieving second-in-command.
He'd already met with three rival organizations. Already laid groundwork for Giuliana's removal.
I'd documented everything.
Had evidence.
Had patience running thin.
Isabella sat across the aisle. Eyes fixed on Giuliana with hatred so obvious it was almost funny.
Almost.
Victor Leone sat beside Giuliana. One of the few people in this room who actually cared if she lived or died.
The priest spoke about Vittorio's dedication to family.
Lies.
Vittorio dedicated himself to power. Family was just the vehicle.
After the service, the real show began.
Representatives lined up to offer condolences. Each one a test. Each one assessing Giuliana's strength.
I watched her handle them with grace I didn't know she possessed.
She smiled. Accepted sympathy. Didn't reveal anything.
Good.
Never show weakness to predators.
Then Marco made his move.
He cornered her near Vittorio's study. Away from the crowd. Away from witnesses.
I moved closer. Not obvious. Just close enough to hear.
"Giuliana," Marco said. Hand on her shoulder. Possessive. "We need to discuss the family's future."
She stepped back. His hand fell away.
Smart girl.
"Soon," she said.
"Soon isn't good enough. The empire is unstable. We need strong leadership immediately."
"You mean male leadership."
Marco's expression didn't change. "I mean experienced leadership."
I stepped forward then. Couldn't help myself.
Couldn't watch him manipulate her for another second.
"Giuliana has all the experience she needs," I said.
Marco turned. Eyes cold.
"This is a private conversation, Dante."
"Nothing is private in this family."
Tension crackled between us.
Giuliana looked between us. Confused. Wary.
"I can handle this," she said to me.
"I know you can."
"Then let me."
I should have stepped back. Should have given her space.
Instead, I looked at Marco.
"If you pressure her again," I said quietly, "we're going to have a problem."
Marco smiled. Dangerous. Calculated.
"Are we choosing sides already, Dante? Interesting."
He walked away before I could respond.
Giuliana turned to me. Eyes flashing.
"I didn't need you to do that."
"I know."
"Then why did you?"
Because watching him touch you made me want to kill him.
Because the thought of him manipulating you makes my blood boil.
Because I've spent ten years protecting you and I can't stop now.
"Because Marco is dangerous," I said instead. "And you need to know who your enemies are."
"And who are my enemies?"
"Everyone except me."
She laughed. Sharp. Bitter.
"That's not reassuring."
"It's honest."
She studied my face. Looking for something.
"Why do I feel like you're more dangerous than all of them combined?"
"Because I am."
"Then why would I ever trust you?"
I leaned closer. Close enough that only she could hear.
"Because I'm the only one who's been keeping you alive for the last ten years."
Her breath caught.
"What?"
Before I could answer, before I could explain, Victor appeared.
Calling her name.
Needing her attention.
She looked at me. Questions in her eyes.
Then she walked away.
Leaving me standing there.
Watching her disappear into the crowd.
And realizing with sudden, terrifying clarity:
Everything I'd built. Everything I'd done. Everything I'd become.
It was all for this moment.
She was here.
And I could no longer afford to watch from the shadows.