THE MAFIA'S OBSESSION

MINE

I woke to the smell of coffee.

For one confusing second, I forgot where I was.

Then I saw the unfamiliar ceiling.

The fireplace.

The oversized bed.

Dante's room.

I sat up so quickly the blanket slipped to my waist.

The couch across the room was empty.

He was gone.

A note rested beside a steaming cup of coffee.

Drink it while it's hot.

No signature.

No explanation.

I stared at the neat handwriting longer than I should have.

A knock sounded.

"Come in."

The same housekeeper from the night before entered with a tray of breakfast.

She smiled.

"You slept well, Mrs. Marchetti?"

"I slept."

Her smile widened ever so slightly.

"Mr. Marchetti hasn't."

"What?"

"He remained outside your door until sunrise."

I frowned.

"Outside the door?"

She nodded.

"He wouldn't allow anyone else to guard this floor."

Before I could ask another question, she excused herself and quietly left.

I looked toward the door.

Outside.

All night?

Why?

I found Dante downstairs in the library.

He stood before a wall of books, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled to his forearms as he studied a map spread across a table.

He didn't look up.

"You should've eaten first."

I blinked.

"You knew I was here?"

"I heard your footsteps."

"I wasn't trying to be quiet."

"I know."

I leaned against the doorway.

"I heard you stood outside my room all night."

He finally looked at me.

"I did."

"Why?"

"Someone tried to get to you."

"They failed."

"They got close."

His answer came without hesitation.

As though that alone was enough.

"You can't stay awake every night."

"I can."

"You'll exhaust yourself."

"I've survived worse."

His calm should have irritated me.

Instead...

It worried me.

"You hardly know me."

"I know enough."

"You don't owe me protection."

His jaw tightened.

"I disagree."

Before I could respond, another voice interrupted.

"Dante."

A tall man entered the library without knocking.

Older.

Silver-haired.

Expensive suit.

His eyes landed on me immediately.

"So this is the famous Elena Russo."

There was amusement in his smile.

Too much amusement.

Dante stepped between us.

Almost instinctively.

"Elena."

His voice never left the older man.

"This is Lorenzo."

"My lawyer."

Lorenzo extended his hand.

"It is a pleasure—"

Dante spoke before I could take it.

"Don't."

The room went still.

Lorenzo slowly lowered his hand.

He laughed.

"Possessive already?"

"I said don't."

There was no laughter in Dante's voice.

Only quiet warning.

Lorenzo raised both hands.

"I wasn't planning on stealing your wife."

"I know."

"Then what's the problem?"

Dante's eyes remained fixed on him.

"I don't like people touching what's mine."

The words settled over the room.

Mine.

I looked at him.

Surely...

He hadn't meant

His gaze shifted to me.

For the first time since our wedding...

He looked almost uncomfortable.

"As my responsibility," he corrected.

Lorenzo smirked.

"If you say so."

I wasn't convinced.

Neither was Lorenzo.

Later that afternoon, I wandered into the estate gardens alone.

The fresh air helped clear my head.

Or at least I hoped it would.

Instead, I found myself thinking about one word.

Mine.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

I turned.

A young groundskeeper hurried toward me carrying fresh roses.

He couldn't have been older than twenty-three.

"Oh."

His face flushed.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Marchetti."

He smiled politely.

"I didn't realize anyone was here."

"It's alright."

He held out a single white rose.

"For you."

Before I could accept it...

A hand appeared between us.

Dante.

He took the flower first.

His expression never changed.

"Thank you."

The young man nodded nervously.

"Of course, sir."

"You can go."

The groundskeeper disappeared almost immediately.

I looked at Dante.

"You scared him."

"He'll recover."

"It was just a flower."

"I know."

"You didn't have to intervene."

"I wanted to."

I folded my arms.

"Why?"

He looked down at the rose in his hand before meeting my eyes.

"Because he looked at you..."

His voice was calm.

"...longer than I liked."

I couldn't help it.

I laughed.

"You've known me for two days."

"I know."

"And you're jealous?"

A slow smile touched his lips.

"No."

He stepped closer.

Close enough for only me to hear.

"I'm much worse than jealous."

My heartbeat stumbled.

"What does that mean?"

He gently tucked the white rose behind my ear.

His fingers barely brushed my skin.

It should have meant nothing.

Instead...

It left my pulse racing.

His gaze lingered on me for a long moment.

Then he took one step back.

"I'll explain," he said quietly.

"When you're ready to hear it."

He walked away before I could stop him.

I stood alone in the garden, touching the rose behind my ear.

For the first time...

I wasn't afraid of the Wolf.

I was afraid of how quickly he was becoming impossible to hate.