Chapter 5
1135 Words
The gala was held in one of Rosalia’s oldest hotels—marble staircases, chandeliers like cages of crystal, and music that sounded like it had been stolen from a dream.
But nothing here was innocent.
Everyone in the room wore masks.
Not the kind you could see. The kind that smiled too wide, laughed too lightly, and watched with the sharpness of assassins.
Dominic didn’t speak as we moved through the crowd. His hand stayed firm at the small of my back, guiding me like I was both shield and weapon.
I let him.
For now.
There was tension in him—coiled and electric. Not just danger. Strategy.
Tonight was about perception. Power.
And then there was Dante.
Leaning by the far bar like he owned the world. Not a hair out of place. Wearing that blood-red suit again, like he dared someone to stain it further.
And he was smiling.
At me.
Dominic stiffened beside me. He saw it. Saw *him*.
“We leave. Now,” he muttered.
“No,” I said quietly, eyes still locked on Dante. “We stay.”
Dominic’s head snapped toward me, something dark flickering in his gaze.
“Leona—”
“If I’m leverage, let me be useful.”
His jaw worked. Then he gave a single nod.
“Stay close,” he murmured.
“Try and stop me.”
~
People approached us. Too many. All lips and lies. They shook Dominic’s hand. Kissed cheeks. Laughed too loudly.
They called me bella, brava, and intriguing.
But they didn’t see me.
They saw Dominic’s asset. His risk.
Until Dante crossed the room.
He didn’t hurry. He never did. He moved like he had all the time in the world—and none of it mattered.
People noticed. Conversations paused. Like a shark had slipped through the ballroom.
He reached us with a glass of red wine and a wolf’s smile.
“Dom,” he said smoothly.
Dominic didn’t respond. His hand shifted slightly on my waist—possessive now.
Dante turned to me. “Leona.”
He said my name like it already belonged to him.
“You look ravishing,” he said. “But tell me—was it your choice this time?”
Dominic moved.
Not a strike. But close. One step forward. Blocking. Claiming.
“She’s my fiancée,” he said, his voice iron.
Dante sipped his wine. “Congratulations. But that wasn’t an answer.”
“Walk away, Dante.”
“Or what?”
“I won’t ask twice.”
Dante tilted his head, then looked at me again.
“It’s not him I want to talk to,” he said. “It’s you.”
I met his gaze. Forced myself not to flinch.
“What could you possibly say that I’d want to hear?” I asked him
His smile curved, razor-sharp. “Only this—you still have a way out. Before it’s too late.”
“And run where?” I asked. “To you?”
His eyes gleamed. “You’re not afraid of me.”
“No,” I said. “I’m afraid of what you make him become.”
Silence.
Then Dante leaned in, his voice barely a whisper.
“Then maybe he shouldn’t have made you the heart of his empire.”
He turned and walked away.
Leaving only heat and ruin in his wake.
~
Dominic and I left twenty minutes later.
We didn’t speak in the car. Not even when we got home.
But once the penthouse doors shut behind us, everything snapped.
“You shouldn’t have talked to him,” Dominic said, voice tight.
“You wanted me there. You wanted them to see me.”
“Not him.”
“You can’t control what he does—”
“I can control what happens next!” he roared.
The force of it made me step back.
He’d never yelled before.
Not like this.
I stared at him, breathing hard. “So do it. Control me. Lock me up. Chain me to the f*****g wall. That’s what you want, right?”
He flinched. Just for a second.
Then he crossed the room in three strides and grabbed my wrist—not hard, not bruising. Just... claiming.
“I want you safe.”
I pulled back. “I’m not.”
He stared at me, jaw clenched, muscles taut with restraint.
“You think I don’t know what he’s doing?” I whispered. “He’s playing with us. He’s setting fire to everything. And I’m the kindling.”
“I won’t let him have you.” he replied
“You don’t own me.”
His hand dropped.
“I know.”
Two words. Brutal in their honesty.
He stepped back. Away from me.
And for the first time since I met Dominic Moretti, he looked… lost.
“I didn’t plan for you,” he said quietly. “I planned for war. For blood. For legacy.”
“Then why buy me?” I asked.
He looked up.
“I didn’t buy you,” he said. “I took you.”
“Same thing.”
“No,” he said. “Because if I’d bought you, I’d let you go when I was done.”
Silence fell.
Heavy. Final.
Then he turned toward the bedroom. “Get some sleep.”
But I didn’t.
~
That night, I found the piano again.
I played.
Soft. Haunting.
Not a song of fear this time.
A song of control.
Of choosing the storm over the silence.
~
Hours later, I stood on the balcony, watching the city burn beneath its glitter.
When the door opened, I didn’t turn.
I knew it was him.
“I have a question,” I said.
Dominic came to stand beside me.
“Ask.”
“If you had to choose—your empire or me…”
Silence.
“I wouldn’t choose.”
I looked at him. “That’s not how choices work.”
He met my gaze. “It is for men like me.”
“And what are you?”
He reached out. Brushed hair from my face.
“Ruined,” he whispered. “And ruining.”
Then he kissed me.
Not rough. Not possessive.
Like a man drowning—and calling it devotion.
I didn’t stop him.
I didn’t want to.
~
Later, as I lay beside him in the dark, I whispered into his shoulder:
“You can’t save me from him.”
Dominic’s arm tightened around me. “I can try.”
“And if he comes again?”
Dominic didn’t answer.
But I felt the promise in his heartbeat.
He would kill for me.
Or die trying.
But neither of us knew—
Dante had already made his next move.
And the game had only just begun.
- Writer
