Chapter 5 - The Line in the Sand
Dante froze. The icy composure on his face cracked for a split second as his eyes clashed with mine.
"Step aside, Clara," Dante warned, his voice low and dangerous. "He sold you out. He placed you in the crosshairs of ruthless men."
"I know what he did," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through my veins. "He is pathetic, and he broke my heart long before tonight. But if you execute him right here, in front of me, you prove that you're nothing more than the monster they say you are. Don't do this in the home where Matteo sleeps."
The library was dead silent. The guards held their breath. No one ever commanded Dante Moretti, let alone stood in front of his gun.
Slowly, agonizingly, Dante lowered the weapon. He turned his dark gaze back to Michael, who was shaking violently on the floor.
"You live," Dante said, his tone colder than ice. "Because she asked for it. But if your boots touch this city after midnight, I will personally strip your skin from your bone. Get him out of my sight."
The guards dragged Michael away, his frantic cries fading down the marble hallway.
When we were alone, Dante turned to me. He stepped close, crowding me back against the heavy mahogany desk. "You shield everyone, don't you? My son. Your worthless ex-fiancé. Who shields you, Clara?"
"I've always had to shield myself," I whispered, resting my hand against his chest, feeling the heavy, steady thud of his heart.
May you like
Dante leaned down, his breath warm against my lips. "Not anymore."
He kissed me then—a fierce, possessive kiss that consumed every lingering fear I had. It wasn't gentle; it was the kiss of a man claiming a territory he had no intention of ever surrendering. And to my shock, I kissed him back, surrendering to the dark fire that had been building between us since the night blood spilled onto the restaurant floor.
