The decision to confront Dante burned in Aria’s chest like a live coal. She waited until the penthouse had fallen into its usual nighttime quiet, the city lights twinkling beyond the windows like distant stars mocking her turmoil. Dante slept beside her, his powerful arm draped possessively across her waist, his breathing deep and steady. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, he looked almost peaceful—the ruthless mafia billionaire who had claimed her body and heart reduced to a man who held her like she was his anchor.
But anchors could drown you if the chain was too heavy.
Aria slipped from his embrace carefully, pulling on a silk robe. She padded to the study, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The secure laptop hummed to life under her fingers. She opened the latest files
