The Devil's Doctor

Lorenzo

The first rule of being Dante Marchetti’s personal physician: there were no rules.

At least, not for him.

Yara learned this on her first full day in the villa. She woke at dawn, reviewed his chart from memory, and knocked on his bedroom door with a list of medical orders.

Dante opened the door shirtless, his chest wrapped in fresh bandages. He read her list with a bored expression.

Bed rest. Antibiotics every eight hours. No physical exertion. No alcohol.

"No," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Bed rest is for old men and the weak." He stepped past her into the hallway, smelling of fresh soap. "I have an empire to run."

"You have bullet holes," Yara maintain, trailing him down the grand staircase.

She followed him into a study where three men in suits waited with laptops. They didn't even blink at the sight of Yara.

"Boss," one of them said. "The shipment from Genoa was intercepted. We lost three men. Vittoria’s crew crossed the line last night."

"Handle it," Dante said, his voice turning to ice.

"But boss, they’re armed to the.."

"I said handle it."

The men scrambled out of the room. Dante reached for a glass of water, and Yara noticed his hand shake, just a tiny tremor. He was pushing himself too hard.

"You need to eat," she said, her voice softening. "You'll collapse before you finish running the empire."

Dante looked at her. For a second, she saw pain and exhaustion in his eyes.

"Fine," he muttered. "Breakfast. But you’re eating with me. I refuse to be bored.

The Engagement

The invitation arrived on a Tuesday morning.

It was a black card with gold embossed letters. Yara watched Dante’s fist tighten until the paper crumbled.

"My brother," Dante said, his voice flat. "Lorenzo. He’s getting engaged.”

Yara blinked. "I didn't know you had a brother."

"Neither does most of the world." Dante's voice was flat. "Lorenzo. Older by two years. We don't... get along."

"Family drama?"

"Family betrayal." He downed a whiskey. You’re coming with me."

Yara froze. "I’m your doctor, not your date."

"I don’t want to go alone," he said, his dark eyes meeting hers. "And I’ve already taken care of the clothes."

An hour later, three black boxes arrived. Inside was a silk gown and a diamond necklace shining bright like stars. When Yara stepped out in the dress, Dante was leaning against her doorframe.

His gaze traveled over her, slow and hungry. "I have eyes, dottorina," he whispered when she asked how he knew her size. "And right now, they like what they see."

The party was held at the Marchetti ancestral mansion. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceilings, and the air smelled richly.

Dante’s good hand rested on Yara’s back. "The groom," he murmured, nodding toward the center of the room.

Yara followed his gaze, and her blood turned to ice.

Lorenzo.

Her Lorenzo. The man who had drained her bank account and cheated on her with Sophie. He wasn't just a loser from Campania. He was a mafia. He was Dante's older brother.

Beside him stood Sophie, blonde, smug, dripping in diamonds. Her hand rested on Lorenzo's arm like she owned him.

Just then, Dante was pulled away by a business associate.

Lorenzo spotted her. He excused himself from a group of guests and walked toward her with a predatory smirk.

"Yara," Lorenzo said, stopping inches away. "So, you’re my brother’s new toy?"

"I'm his doctor," she said, her voice trembling.

"Of course." Lorenzo leaned in, whispering so only she could hear. "How much money have you given him yet? You were a very convenient ATM, sweetheart."

"Get lost, Lorenzo," she spat.

Lorenzo's fist clenched. "You're not welcome here at my party."

"Then it's a good thing I didn't come for you."

Dante appeared at her side. His hand found the small of her back again.

"She's with me," Dante said.

Lorenzo's eyes darted between them in envy.

"Your taste has improved, didn't realize you'd go after my leftover little brother," Lorenzo said mockingly..

Dante didn't flinch. "She is my guest. You'll treat her with respect."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll remind you why Grandfather chose me."

The air between them crackled. Guests nearby pretended not to notice. But Yara saw everything, the hatred in Lorenzo's eyes, the cold fury in Dante's.

They're not just rivals, she realized. They're enemies.

"Your date." Lorenzo continued casually.

Yara's heart stopped.

"She didn't tell you?" Lorenzo laughed. "Oh, this is rich. She and I... we have history. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"Lorenzo, don't…" Yara started.

"Did you see the butterfly tattoo on her butt?" Lorenzo interrupted, loud enough for nearby guests to hear. He turned to Dante, grinning. "I took her to the tattoo artist myself. She screamed the whole time. Cute, really."

The air turned electric.

Dante's hands curled into fists.

"Say that again," Dante said with a murderous growl.

"The butterfly tattoo on her butt? I took her to get it myself," Lorenzo laughed. "She screamed the whole time. Ask her about it."

CRACK.

Dante’s fist landed squarely on Lorenzo’s jaw.

Lorenzo staggered back, blood coming out from his lips. Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"DANTE!"

A woman with silver hair and a sharp, cruel face stormed toward them. Dante's and Lorenzo's mother, referred to as the Donna. She didn't look at the blood. She didn't look at her injured son. She walked straight to Dante and slapped him hard across the face.

The sound was like a gunshot.

"How dare you," the Donna hissed. "On your brother's night. Drop to your knees and apologize. Now."

Yara watched in horror. Dante, the man who ruled an empire, stood still. His pride was warring with years of trauma. Slowly, his fists tight, he dropped to both knees on the floor.

"I apologize," he ground out.

Lorenzo wiped the blood from his lip and grinned. "That's more like it."

Donna turned to Yara, her eyes flashing with hatred. "You. This is your fault. You’re poisonous. If you don't leave my son alone, I will end you myself."

The drive back to the villa was in silence.

Dante stared out the window the entire ride. He didn't look at Yara nor ask her if Lorenzo was lying.

When they arrived, he walked inside without a word, leaving Yara alone in the dark.

Upstairs in his study, Dante poured a whiskey and picked up his phone. His hand was still throbbing from the punch.

"I need everything on Victoria Hale," Dante told his man on the other end. "Her past. Every man she’s ever been with.