For now
961 Words
Dante POV
Dante sat behind his desk, staring at the pile of contracts he was supposed to review. His pen hovered over the paper — motionless — as his mind drifted, again, to her.
Gia.
It had been only a day since he’d seen her, and he hadn’t been able to think of anything else since.
The same black hair. The same stunning smile.
And yet... something different. Something he couldn't name — something that gnawed at him.
With a frustrated growl, Dante set his pen down and dragged his hands through his hair. He needed to stop. He needed to forget her.
He had a life now.
A wife.
A daughter.
Aria.
Dante closed his eyes for a moment, letting her name steady him. His little girl — the only truly good thing to come out of the hell the past five years had been. She kept him sane when everything else — including himself — threatened to fall apart.
He thought back to her birth.
After Gia had left, after he’d married Isabella out of duty and shame, her father had gifted them a house. A house that had always felt more like a prison than a home. But then Aria came. And for a little while, the chains around his chest had loosened.
Dante leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. He shouldn't do it. He shouldn't even think about her.
But his hand was already moving — reaching for the hidden folder on his phone.
All the photos of their time together.
First date.
Their weekend away.
The ring on her finger.
Her laughing into his chest.
He stared at the images for a long moment, his jaw tight. He didn’t know why he kept torturing himself. Gia had been clear. She was Mrs. Costa now. She’d been polite—and unreachable.
And yet... Something in her eyes yesterday. A flicker. A crack. He needed to know if she was happy. And if she was—he would leave her alone. Let her get on with her life, and he would finally try and do the same.
Sure, he could ask Sophia. But Sophia hadn’t forgiven him for what he’d done to Gia. Not really. He knew Alessandro often spoke and met up with him without telling her.
His heart cracked at the thought. He loved her like a sister, and now when they met… it wasn’t the same.
No. He needed answers — quietly. Without dragging anyone else into it.
He pressed the button on his intercom.
"Fabio," Dante said, his voice low. "Come in here. I need you to do something for me."
A few seconds later, Fabio stepped through the door, tablet in hand, his expression as unreadable as always. Dante leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his jaw.
"I need a favor," Dante said quietly.
Fabio set the tablet down. "Of course. What do you need?"
Dante hesitated, then exhaled slowly. "I need someone... discreet. A PI. Someone I can trust."
Fabio didn’t blink. "Who’s the target?"
Dante looked away, pretending to shuffle some papers. "Gia Costa," he said finally, the words scraping his throat on the way out.
Fabio said nothing. No judgment. No raised brows. Just a short nod.
"I don't want anything invasive," Dante added quickly. "I just... want to know if she’s safe. Who she’s dealing with. That’s all."
"Understood," Fabio said. "I know a guy. I’ll handle it personally."
Dante gave a tight nod. "Keep it off the books."
Fabio offered a small smile. "Of course. I’ll have a preliminary report for you by tomorrow."
He left without another word.
Dante leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling.
What the hell was he doing? Acting like a jealous teenager. Gia had made her choice. She had a husband. A life.
He should have left well enough alone.
But he couldn't.
Later that night a knock came at his office door. He’d been working late, trying to finish the contracts he needed to get through.
"Come in," Dante said.
Fabio stepped inside, a slim manila folder tucked under his arm.
"It's all here," Fabio said, placing it neatly on Dante’s desk. "Recent photos, a background check, basic information. Nothing invasive, just what you asked for."
Dante stared at the folder like it might bite him.
"Thanks," he said hoarsely.
When Fabio left, Dante sat there for a long time, the weight of the folder pressing into his chest.
He reached for it — then stopped, hand hovering just above the cover.
He was being ridiculous. Obsessing over a woman who was no longer his.
His mind flickered — unbidden — to a memory he hadn’t visited in years.
The paternity test.
He didn’t know why he was thinking about it now. After all this time. But when Isabella had given birth, his parents had demanded a pregnancy test.
Of course, no one protested. It was the responsible thing to do. Nobody wanted to raise a child that wasn’t his.
The shouting match between his father and Carlos…The quiet way his mother had stepped in, placing a gentle hand on his father's arm, whispering something about giving it time.
Two weeks later, she was gone. They never saw it coming—but the cancer had been so aggressive… it had taken her without hesitation.
And with her death, the test — and everything else — had been buried under grief.
Dante exhaled, his chest tight. He started at the folder for another fifteen minutes, before he slit it into his drawer and locking it… without opening it.
He didn’t know if he could handle her being unhappy. But he certainly couldn’t handle her being happy.
He would just put it away.
For now.
- Writer
