Dante
The whiskey still burned at the back of my throat as I left my father’s study.
He didn’t bluff. If he said it, he meant it. And if he thought dangling my brother over my head would make me fold, he’d forgotten who the hell he raised.
Matteo peeled out of the shadows like a loyal ghost and fell into stride beside me.
“Well?” he asked.
“Father gave me a deadline.”
Matteo’s mouth tilted. “He always did like clocks. What’s the countdown this time?”
“One week.” I didn’t slow. “If I don’t secure the marriage, Nico takes my place.”
He let out a low whistle. “That’s a hell of a gauntlet.”
“It’s not a gauntlet.” I pushed open my office door and let it thud behind us. “It’s a test. I’ve never failed one.”
I dropped into the chair, steepled my fingers, and replayed the nigh
