Between Loyalty and You

Chapter 18 (Sofia's POV)

Sleep did not come easily.

I lay in my childhood bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment Dante’s face had changed across the dinner table. That cold, absolute stillness. The quiet promise in his voice afterward when my father left the room. *You will not marry Matteo Ricci. You’re mine.* The words should have terrified me. Instead they settled low in my stomach like heat and ownership and the same dark pull I had felt the first time he put his hand around my throat.

My phone stayed silent until just after two in the morning.

A single message from the same unlisted number.

*Balcony. Five minutes. Lights off.*

My heart kicked hard against my ribs. I slipped out of bed, pulled on a dark robe, and moved through the quiet house on bare feet. Security had been tightened since the break-in, but the men at the rear of the property focused outward. The small balcony off the upstairs sitting room faced the inner courtyard and the high stone wall. I eased the door open and stepped into the cool night air without turning on a light.

Dante was already there.

He stood in the deeper shadow near the railing, dressed in black, the same way he moved when he did not want to be seen. The moment the door clicked shut behind me he closed the distance, one hand sliding into my hair, the other gripping my waist, and kissed me like he had been thinking about nothing else since he left the dinner table. It was hard, hungry, edged with the same lethal quiet I had seen in his eyes earlier. I opened for him immediately, fists curling in the front of his shirt, and let him back me against the stone wall of the house.

When he finally pulled back we were both breathing harder.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered.

“I know.” His forehead rested against mine. “I needed to see you before I started moving pieces.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Make Matteo Ricci an unacceptable match.” His thumb stroked once along my jaw. “Quietly. Without your father ever tracing it back to the real reason. By the time I’m finished, Ricci himself will withdraw the proposal to protect his own interests.”

I searched his face in the dark. “And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then I remove the problem another way.” The words were soft and final. “I already told you. You are not marrying him.”

The possessive certainty in his voice sent a fresh rush of heat through me. I hated how much it affected me. I loved it just as much.

“My father wants the meeting within two weeks,” I said. “He’s already talking about informal introductions. Something public enough to look proper but private enough to gauge whether Matteo and I can stand each other.”

“I’ll be there.” Dante’s hand slid down my side, under the robe, settling on the bare skin of my waist. “Your father asked for my read on the boy. I’ll give him one. It just won’t be the one he’s hoping for.”

His mouth found the side of my neck. I tipped my head back against the stone and bit my lip to keep quiet as he bit down just hard enough to sting, then soothed the spot with his tongue. The robe loosened under his hands. Cool night air touched my breasts a second before his palm covered one, thumb brushing the n****e into a tight peak.

“We don’t have long,” he muttered against my skin. “Your father’s men do a sweep of this side of the house every twenty minutes.”

“Then stop talking.”

A low, dark sound left him. He yanked the robe open fully, dropped to his knees on the stone balcony, and shoved my thighs apart. There was no slow build. He put his mouth on me like he was starving for it, tongue thrusting inside before dragging up to my c**t and sucking hard. I clapped a hand over my own mouth to muffle the broken sound that tried to escape. His hands gripped my ass, holding me open against his face while he ate me with single-minded intensity.

It was fast and filthy and almost desperate. The risk of being caught only sharpened every sensation. I came hard against his tongue, thighs shaking, the hand over my mouth barely containing the noise. He stayed with me through it, licking me through the aftershocks until my legs threatened to give out. Then he stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and kissed me so I could taste myself on his tongue.

“That’s all we get tonight,” he said against my lips, voice rough. “I have calls to make before morning. People to put in motion.”

I rested my forehead against his. “Be careful.”

“Always.” He adjusted my robe, tying it closed with deliberate care. “Delete the messages. If anything changes on your end—if your father moves the timeline or Ricci pushes harder—you find a way to let me know. Use the same number. I’ll answer.”

He kissed me once more, slower this time, almost reluctant, then stepped back into the deeper shadows. A moment later he was gone, over the wall or through whatever blind spot he had used to get in, leaving nothing behind but the lingering taste of him and the throb between my legs.

I stood alone on the balcony until my breathing evened out, then slipped back inside and returned to my room. The house remained quiet. No alarms. No raised voices. Whatever path Dante had taken, it had gone unnoticed.

I deleted the message thread, set the phone face-down on the nightstand, and lay back against the pillows. My body still hummed from his mouth. My mind raced with everything that came next—the meeting with Matteo Ricci, the quiet war Dante had just declared, the constant risk that my father would look too closely and see the truth.

Two weeks.

That was how long we had before the first formal step toward a marriage I would never accept.

I closed my eyes and held on to the memory of Dante’s voice in the dark.

*You will not marry him.*

*You’re mine.*

Whatever came next, I already knew which of those two statements I intended to make true.