BOUND TO THE MAFIA KING

Elena Russo knew something was wrong the moment she saw the black cars outside her apartment. Three of them. Expensive. Tinted. Parked neatly along the curb beneath the cold glow of the streetlights. She stopped walking. Rain whispered against the pavement around her, dampening the shoulders of her coat. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her handbag. Her father's warning returned to her. If anything ever happens, Elena, don't ask questions. Just leave. At the time, she'd laughed. Tonight, she wasn't laughing. She reached inside her bag and wrapped her fingers around her phone. A man stepped from the shadows. Black suit. Broad shoulders. Expressionless face. Then another appeared behind him. Elena slowly backed away. “Miss Russo?” Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Depends who's asking.” Neither man answered. That frightened her more than anything they could have said. She turned. A third man stood behind her. “Mr. Moretti would like to speak with you.” Her blood went cold. Moretti. Everyone in certain circles knew that name. Her father had made sure she understood exactly what it meant. Money. Power. Blood. And Dante Moretti. “I don't want to speak with him.” “You misunderstand.” The man's expression didn't change. “It wasn't an invitation.” Elena swallowed. “Tell Mr. Moretti he can go to hell.” A deep voice came from behind them. “I've been told I own property there.” Every man around her immediately became still. Elena turned. And saw him. Dante Moretti. He was taller than she'd expected. Dark hair swept carelessly back from a hard, handsome face. A black suit fitted his powerful frame perfectly, but he wore no tie. The first buttons of his white shirt were open. There was something unsettling about how calm he looked. He didn't need to raise his voice. Didn't need to threaten anyone. Power seemed to move around him naturally. His dark eyes settled on Elena. And stayed there. For several uncomfortable seconds, neither spoke. Then Dante walked toward her. Slowly. Deliberately. Elena refused to move. “You have your father's courage,” he said. “My father isn't here.” “I know.” Something about his answer tightened her stomach. “When did you last see him?” “Why?” Dante stopped directly in front of her. Up close, he was worse. Not because he looked monstrous. Because he didn't. He was devastatingly attractive. A faint scar cut through one eyebrow. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw. His eyes were almost black beneath the streetlights. But there was no warmth in them. “My father warned me about men like you,” Elena said. One corner of Dante's mouth lifted. “Men like me?” “Men who mistake fear for respect.” The men surrounding them went silent. Dante stared at her. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled. It wasn't reassuring. “I understand why he kept you hidden.” “I wasn't hidden.” “You were.” His gaze moved over her face. “Very carefully.” Elena's pulse quickened. “What do you want?” “Your father.” “Then find him.” “I've been trying.” “Sounds like a personal problem.” She attempted to walk around him. Dante caught her wrist. Elena froze. His grip wasn't painful. It didn't need to be. “Take your hand off me.” His eyes dropped briefly to where he held her. Then returned to hers. Most people probably lowered their eyes when Dante Moretti looked at them like that. Elena didn't. After a long moment, he released her. Interesting. That was what she saw in his expression. Not anger. Interest. “You really don't know, do you?” he asked. “Know what?” “Your father disappeared forty-eight hours ago.” Elena's stomach dropped. She hid it quickly. “He travels.” “He ran.” “You don't know my father.” “I know him considerably better than you think.” Dante stepped closer. “He stole from me.” Elena laughed once, although nothing about this was funny. “My father doesn't steal.” “Everyone steals when the price is high enough.” “What supposedly disappeared?” Dante's expression changed. Barely. But she noticed. “Something that could start a war.” Rain slid down Elena's cheek. “And you think I have it?” “No.” “Then we're finished.” “You're mistaken again.” She looked directly into his eyes. “About what?” “I don't think you have what your father stole.” Dante leaned slightly closer. His voice became quiet. “I think someone believes you know where he hid it.” Elena's anger faltered. “What someone?” “The kind you don't want knocking on your door.” She glanced toward her apartment building. Dante noticed. “They've already been inside.” Her head snapped toward him. “What?” “Your apartment was searched approximately twenty minutes before you arrived.” She pushed past him. Dante caught her arm. “Let me go!” “Elena.” It was the first time he'd used her first name. “Let go of me.” “You're not going upstairs.” “That is my home!” “Not anymore.” Her palm struck his face. The sound cracked through the night. Every man around them froze. Elena's breathing stopped. Dante's head had turned slightly from the impact. Nobody moved. Slowly, he looked back at her. She expected rage. Instead, something darker flashed through his eyes. His thumb touched the corner of his mouth. “You shouldn't have done that.” “Then don't grab me.” Dante stepped forward. Elena instinctively stepped backward. He noticed. “There's the fear,” he murmured. “Don't flatter yourself.” His gaze dropped briefly to her lips. “I'm not.” Something unwanted sparked through her. Heat. She hated herself for noticing the breadth of his shoulders. The roughness of his jaw. The intoxicating combination of danger and restraint surrounding him. She hated him more for noticing her reaction. Dante moved closer until only inches remained between them. “You have two choices tonight.” “I don't take orders from you.” “Then consider them survival suggestions.” She glared at him. “Choice one?” “You come with me.” “And choice two?” “You remain here and wait for whoever searched your apartment to return.” Elena looked toward the building again. A curtain moved in an upstairs window. Her window. Her blood chilled. Someone was standing inside her apartment. She stepped backward. Dante followed her gaze. His entire demeanor changed. “Car. Now.” The men moved instantly. Elena barely had time to understand what was happening before Dante pulled her behind him. A sharp crack split the night. Glass exploded from the car beside them. Elena screamed. Dante shoved her down and covered her body with his. “Get her inside!” Another crack. Men shouted. A car door flew open. Dante practically lifted Elena from the pavement and pushed her into the back seat before climbing in after her. “Drive!” The vehicle surged forward. Elena's hands trembled. “What the hell was that?” Dante looked through the rear window. “Confirmation.” “Of what?” “That I was right.” He turned toward her. The calmness had disappeared. This was another Dante. Cold. Focused. Deadly. “Who was shooting at us?” “At you.” Her face went pale. “I haven't done anything.” “That doesn't matter anymore.” The car accelerated through the wet streets. Elena stared at him. “Take me to the police.” “No.” “You don't get to decide that.” “Tonight I do.” “You arrogant bastard.” “Alive bastard.” She reached for the door handle. Dante's hand closed over hers. “Open that door while we're moving and you'll discover exactly how patient I'm not.” She yanked her hand away. “Where are you taking me?” “My house.” “No.” “Yes.” “I would rather take my chances.” “You just did.” Silence filled the vehicle. Elena stared through the window. Everything she'd known that morning suddenly seemed impossibly distant. Her apartment. Her job. Her father. Her ordinary life. Gone in minutes. She looked at Dante. “Did you hurt my father?” His expression gave her nothing. “No.” “Would you?” “Yes.” The honesty startled her. “If he betrayed me the way the evidence suggests,” Dante continued, “your father and I will have a conversation neither of us will enjoy.” Elena's stomach twisted. “If you touch him—” “What?” She met his eyes. “I'll make you regret it.” Dante stared at her. Then something almost amused appeared in his expression. “You're sitting inside my car after someone tried to put a bullet through you, and you're threatening me.” “I'm serious.” “So am I.” He leaned closer. “You still haven't understood your situation.” “Then enlighten me.” “Your father stole information capable of bringing down powerful men. He disappeared. Someone believes you can lead them to him.” “And you?” His gaze hardened. “I believe you're safer where I can see you.” Elena's heartbeat stumbled. “I don't belong to you.” “No.” His eyes remained on hers. “Remember that sentence.” She frowned. “Why?” Dante looked away. “Because my world has a habit of changing things.” The car passed through enormous iron gates. Elena looked outside. A sprawling mansion rose ahead of them, illuminated against the darkness. Security guards lined the entrance. Cameras turned toward the vehicle. The gates closed behind them. The sound was heavy. Final. Elena suddenly understood. This wasn't protection. Not entirely. She had just entered Dante Moretti's kingdom. And whether either of them admitted it yet or not, something had begun the moment he appeared outside her apartment. Something dangerous. Something neither of them would easily control. Dante looked at her one final time. “Welcome to my home, Elena.” She lifted her chin. “Don't get comfortable having me here.” His gaze lingered on her. Dark. Possessive. Unreadable. “I wasn't planning to.” But the way he said it made Elena wonder which one of them he was trying to convince.