Dante's POV
"The Romano warehouse fire continues to make headlines, drawing comparisons to the tragic Romano estate fire years ago. In both cases, lives were lost, and in both cases, questions remain unanswered..."
My jaw clenched.
The media loved to stir up ghosts that should have stayed buried. They didn't know what the hell they were talking about. The fire that took my family hadn't been an accident or some careless mistake. It had been a goddamn execution, a message from men who thought they could erase the Romano name from history.
They had failed.
I drained my whiskey in one swallow, the burn doing nothing to calm the fire raging inside me. I poured another, barely paying attention to the news playing in the background. The comparisons to my past were nothing more than fuel to the fire… a reminder that some wounds never fucking heal.
I had intended to see Lucia, maybe even explain why I had missed the date I planned.
What was I even thinking? I brought her here to suffer for what her father took from me, to make her pay for the loss that still haunted me—and now, I was buying her expensive dresses and treating her to five-star meals?
There was something about that woman that made me lose control.
I'd been with countless women before, women who practically threw themselves at me, desperate for my attention. With them, I never needed to put in any effort, there was no challenge.
But Lucia?
She was different. She had a way of cutting right through me, crushing my ego without even trying. And instead of pushing me away, it only made me want her more—made me want to break her just to prove that she wasn't immune to me.
I wanted to pin her beneath me, to make her surrender completely, to leave her gasping my name as I buried my cock deep inside her, ruined and unable to think of anyone else.
Fuck.
I needed to get a grip.
I needed to clear my head before I did something I wouldn't regret.
Leaving my room, I made my way to the underground warehouse behind my mansion. It was still being reinforced, but it was functional—secluded, undisturbed.
By the time I arrived, the business of the day was already over. One of Vincenzo's men had been captured and questioned. He hadn't been of any use, which meant only one thing.
A wasted opportunity. A wasted life.
I gave the order, and my men did what needed to be done.
Lucia didn't know what the hell she was talking about. She thought she was onto something, but all she had were suspicions built on nothing. She was digging in the wrong grave, and if she wasn't careful, she'd find herself buried inside it.
I stepped outside, exhaling sharply as Lorenzo, my second-in-command, approached.
"The shipment is ready," he said.
I nodded once. "No mistakes."
"There won't be."
There couldn't be.
By the time I returned to my office, the tension in my veins had dulled, but it never really disappeared.
My consigliere was waiting for me.
One look at his face told me I wouldn't like this conversation.
"Business is slowing," he started, standing with his hands neatly folded. "We may need to look for new buyers."
I leaned against my desk, rolling my glass between my fingers. "And?"
"The police have taken an interest in us."
I exhaled slowly. The fire had drawn unnecessary attention, and I didn't like disruptions.
A knock at the door broke the moment. One of my men stepped in.
"Boss. We have a visitor."
I arched a brow. "Who?"
"A detective."
The room went silent.
I set my glass down with deliberate patience. "And what does he want?"
"Says he's just stopping by."
I smirked. Cops didn't just stop by.
Adjusting my cufflinks, I walked to the entrance, finding the bastard standing in my foyer, trying too hard to look unimpressed.
I allowed the silence to stretch before speaking.
"You must be lost, Detective."
He turned, his gaze sharp, assessing me like a predator trying to gauge his chances. "Just checking in, Romano," he said. "Heard some… interesting rumors."
I chuckled. "Rumors bore me."
"Really?" His expression didn't shift. "Because this one says you're holding women against their will."
A pause.
That was new.
The urge to break his neck was tempting, but I simply smirked. "Is that so?"
"You mind if I take a look around?"
I spread my arms out. "Be my guest."
He found nothing. Of course, he didn't.
I watched as he scanned the room, eyes lingering too long on the grand staircase, the closed doors, the hallways leading deeper into my domain.
Curious little bastard.
He was about to leave when—
A door creaked open.
I turned.
Lucia.
The detective stopped.
His gaze landed on her.
Lucia froze. For a split second, her fingers tightened around the edge of the doorframe, and her breath hitched. She caught herself, forcing a neutral expression, but it was too late.
The detective noticed.
His posture shifted just slightly—his shoulders stiffening, his eyes narrowing in quiet calculation. He wasn't just looking at her. He was assessing her, taking in every small detail: the tension in her stance, the way she hesitated, the way she had flinched when she saw him.
Something about her reaction didn't sit right with him.
He tilted his head, dragging his gaze back to me. His fingers twitched at his side—an instinct, maybe. Like he was considering whether to reach for something.
I moved before he could press further, stepping into his line of sight, blocking him from her.
I wasn't fucking stupid.
"Something wrong, detective?" My voice was smooth, but my patience was razor-thin.
The silence stretched.
His gaze flicked between me and Lucia. Slowly, he smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it.
"Actually…" he murmured, watching Lucia from over my shoulder. "I think I just found a reason to stay."