Chapter 7
614 Words
The next morning, Aria trained harder than ever in the penthouse gym. Sweat soaked her clothes as Dante corrected her stance for the tenth time.
“Again,” he commanded, voice firm. “Elbow higher. Use your hips.”
Aria swung at the padded dummy, frustration building. “I’m too weak. My arms feel like jelly.” She collapsed against the mat, breathing hard.
Dante knelt beside her and pulled her up. “Weak today. Stronger tomorrow. That’s how this works.” His gray eyes held hers. “I won’t let Victor use you. But you have to fight for yourself too.”
She nodded, tears mixing with sweat. “For Luca. For… us?”
Dante’s expression softened. He cupped her face and kissed her deeply, possessively. Aria melted into it, her hands fisting his shirt. When he pulled back, both were breathing harder.
“Yes,” he said roughly. “For us.”
Later that day, Marco arrived with documents. Dante reviewed them in his office while Aria sat quietly on the couch.
“These papers confirm your mother received payments from my father until her death,” Dante told her. “But nothing about a pregnancy.”
Aria’s hands shook as she took the folder. “Victor is lying to hurt you through me. I’m just a tool again.” Her voice cracked.
Dante pulled her onto his lap behind the desk. “You stopped being a tool the night you signed. You’re my wife.” His hand slipped under her blouse, warm against her skin. “And I protect my wife.”
The touch sent heat through her despite everything. “Dante…” she whispered, torn between fear and longing.
He kissed her neck slowly. “Let me make you forget for a while.”
They spent the afternoon in a haze of tentative exploration—his hands teaching her body while his voice whispered reassurance. Aria felt both cherished and owned. When it was over, she lay curled against his chest.
“I never imagined feeling safe with you,” she admitted softly.
Dante stroked her back. “Good. Because you are.”
But peace shattered when Sofia, Dante’s sister, burst into the penthouse unannounced.
“Brother, Victor is spreading the pregnancy rumor everywhere. Our allies are questioning the marriage.” Sofia’s sharp eyes landed on Aria. “Is she really worth this risk?”
Aria shrank back, feeling pitiful again. “I never asked for any of this.”
Sofia softened slightly. “You look terrified, honey. Come here.” She hugged Aria briefly. “I’ll help train you in etiquette. You need to look like a queen, not a scared rabbit.”
Dante nodded approval. “Sofia will stay a few days. Use her.”
That evening, during dinner, Sofia grilled Aria on posture and conversation. “Chin up. Eyes steady. You’re Dante Moretti’s wife. Act like it matters.”
Aria tried, but her voice still trembled. “I don’t feel like his wife. I feel like his prisoner.”
Dante set his wine glass down. “You’re both. For now.” His tone held dark promise.
Later in bed, Aria turned to him. “Do you regret choosing me?”
“Never,” Dante answered, pulling her close. “But Victor is planning something bigger. I can feel it.”
His phone rang. He answered, face hardening. “What? A hit on the warehouse?”
Aria’s stomach dropped as Dante dressed quickly.
“Stay with Sofia,” he ordered, kissing her hard. “Lock everything down.”
As the door closed behind him, Aria hugged her knees, terror rising.
Gunshots echoed faintly from somewhere below the building.
- Writer
