Chapter 3: who is she?
1573 Words
The blade flashed in the moonlight.
I gasped, jerking back just in time. The dagger sliced through the air, grazing the edge of my sleeve before embedding itself in the wooden frame behind me with a sickening thud. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the weapon trembling in the wall.
“Who—who are you?” I stammered.
The intruder stepped forward, and the shadows peeled away to reveal a woman. She couldn’t have been much older than me—early twenties, sleek black hair cascading over her shoulder, her lips painted the color of danger. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, glittered with something between hatred and pity.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she hissed. “He doesn’t marry for love. He marries to destroy.”
I froze. My heart raced faster. “Who are you?” I demanded again, louder this time, masking the tremor in my voice.
The woman smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Someone who used to stand where you’re standing now.”
Her words hit like ice water down my spine. I took a step back, clutching the edge of the table for balance. “What do you mean?”
Before she could answer, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor—measured, powerful, unmistakable. Dante’s.
The woman’s eyes widened slightly. “He’s coming,” she whispered urgently, then yanked the dagger free from the wall. She pressed it into my trembling hands. “Keep this. You’ll need it.”
And just like that, she turned, slipped through the balcony curtains, and vanished into the night like a phantom.
I barely had a second to process it before the door burst open.
Dante strode in, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp and assessing. Behind him followed two guards, scanning the room for threats. His gaze fell on me—standing there, wild-eyed, clutching a dagger.
“What,” he drawled slowly, dangerously, “are you doing with that?”
My mind scrambled. “I—someone was here. A woman—she tried to—”
He closed the distance between us in three long strides, his cologne intoxicating, his presence suffocating. His hand seized my wrist, forcing the blade down. “A woman?” His voice dripped with disbelief. “Do you expect me to believe an intruder slipped past my guards and into my chambers?”
“I’m telling the truth!” I protested, my voice breaking. “She was right there—black hair, red lips—she said she used to stand where I am now!”
Dante’s grip tightened, his eyes narrowing. For a moment, I thought he might strike me. But then, he released my hand abruptly and turned to his guards.
“Search the property. Every hallway, every corner. If there’s even a shadow that doesn’t belong—deal with it.”
“Yes, boss.” The guards rushed out, guns drawn.
When the door closed again, the silence between us stretched thin and sharp.
Dante turned back to me, eyes burning. “Next time you raise a weapon in my presence, dolcezza, make sure you’re ready to use it.”
“I didn’t—”
“Enough.” His tone cut through me like glass. He grabbed the dagger from my hand and examined it briefly before slipping it into his jacket pocket. “You’re shaking.”
“Because someone just tried to kill me!”
“Or perhaps you’re just frightened by the man you now belong to.” His words were smooth, taunting, deliberate.
I glared at him, refusing to let him see me crumble. “You’re sick.”
“Perhaps.” He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against my ear. “But I’m your sickness now.”
My pulse thundered. I wanted to scream, to push him away, to hit him—but before I could move, he stepped back and straightened his jacket as if nothing had happened.
“Get some sleep. Tomorrow, you’ll wear white.” His voice softened, but the underlying threat didn’t fade. “And when you wake, you’ll forget tonight.”
He turned toward the door, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Who was she?”
He paused. Just for a second. Then he looked over his shoulder, his expression like a blade wrapped in silk.
“No one worth remembering.”
And then he was gone.
*****
Sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the dagger, the woman’s eyes, Dante’s face.
I paced the room, clutching my arms. Outside, thunder rumbled, and rain streaked down the window like tears.
Who was she?
Why did she say she used to “stand where I’m standing”?
Was she… his ex? Another bride?
A knock startled me. I froze. “Who is it?”
“It’s Rosa, signorina.” The voice was soft, feminine, accented. “Mr. Romano sent me to prepare you for tomorrow.”
I hesitated, then opened the door slightly. A woman in her mid-forties entered—kind eyes, dark hair tied neatly under a maid’s cap. She carried folded linens and a silk nightgown.
“Here,” she said quietly. “You should change and rest. Tomorrow will be… important.”
“Important,” I echoed bitterly. “You mean my forced wedding?”
Her gaze flickered to the door, making sure no one was listening. Then she stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Be careful, signorina. The Romano family has secrets buried deeper than graves. Don’t trust anyone—not even those who smile.”
My heart skipped. “Do you know who that woman was?”
Rosa hesitated, fear flashing in her eyes. “I’ve said too much already.”
Before I could ask more, she bowed her head and slipped out, leaving me with nothing but questions—and a growing sense that I was being watched.
*****
Hours passed. The rain had turned into a storm, lightning slashing across the sky. I sat by the window, arms wrapped around my knees, watching the city lights shimmer through the downpour.
Then came the sound.
A faint click.
The door handle turning slowly.
I shot to my feet, heart hammering.
“Who’s there?”
No answer.
The door creaked open, and in the dim light, I saw him again—Dante.
But this time, he wasn’t in his suit. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, collar open, dark hair tousled like he’d been up all night. A thin silver chain glinted against his skin. He looked… dangerous in a different way.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked softly, stepping inside.
I backed up. “You shouldn’t be here.”
His eyes flicked to the storm outside. “Neither should you. Yet here we are.”
He approached slowly, each step deliberate, predatory. I could feel his gaze on me like fire tracing my skin.
“What do you want?” I whispered.
“Truth,” he murmured, stopping inches from me. “Whoever came here tonight—tell me exactly what she said.”
I swallowed hard, trying to recall. “She said… I shouldn’t be here. That you don’t marry for love—you marry to destroy.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. For the first time, I saw something flash in his eyes—guilt? Regret? No. It was anger.
“She’s alive, then,” he muttered under his breath. “I should have finished it when I had the chance.”
My stomach turned cold. “Who is she?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned in, his voice a low rumble near my ear. “You’re too curious for your own good, dolcezza. Curiosity gets people killed in my world.”
I glared at him. “Maybe I’d rather die than be your prisoner.”
Something dark flickered in his eyes. “Don’t say that again.”
“Why? Does the great Dante Romano care what happens to me?”
He smirked, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. “You’re mine, and I protect what’s mine. Whether you like it or not.”
Before I could respond, he caught my chin gently, forcing me to look up at him. His thumb brushed my lower lip—not soft, but possessive. I froze, breath shallow.
“Tomorrow,” he said quietly, “when you stand beside me, remember this moment. Remember that you had a choice—to fight or to survive. And you chose survival.”
Then he turned and walked out, leaving me trembling, confused, and furious all at once.
****
The storm raged until dawn. When I finally drifted into uneasy sleep, I dreamed of blood, of white dresses stained red.
A loud bang jolted me awake.
Rosa burst into the room, her face pale with terror. “Signorina—get up! You must hide!”
“What? Why?”
She clutched my arm. “Someone tried to assassinate Mr. Romano last night. They killed two guards—and they think it’s connected to you!”
My heart stopped. “What—no! I didn’t—”
Before I could finish, the door slammed open.
Two of Dante’s men stormed in, guns drawn.
“Boss wants her,” one said coldly. “Now.”
I looked at Rosa, panic rising in my throat.
This wasn’t just a marriage anymore.
It was war.
To be continued...
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