Vengeance is for the Mafia's Boss Bride

Dangerous gams

Chapter 3: Dangerous Games

“You’re a rat,” I hiss, slamming the door to Dante’s office in his nightclub. The bass from the dance floor pulses through the walls, but in here, it’s just us. I rip off my blonde wig, my disguise blown—Nico’s idea to get me in unnoticed.

I decide to tail Dante tonight, after I saw him in a back booth with an FBI agent. I’m done with his dirty games. I watch him as he leans back in his chair, completely unfazed, a half empty whiskey glass in hand. “That’s so bold of you, Ricci. Got any evidence?”

I step closer, my eyes held in slit, as I slam my hands on his desk, my dark leather jacket creaking. “I f*cking saw you with that dirty fed. What’s the deal? Are you selling us out now?” I say, then look up at the guys that stood behind him, a scowl on their face. I bend down again, this time my face was much closer, my skin tingling from the lack of space. “Snitches get stitches, you know.”

He laughs, cold, swirling his drink. “You think I’m snitching? I’m blackmailing him to keep the feds off both our families.” I blink, thrown off, but I don’t back down.

“Prove you're not a traditore,” I snap, leaning back in. He stands, rounding the desk, his dark eyes pinning me. (Traitor)

“You’re getting out of your depth, princess,” he says, voice low, his cologne sharp—cedar and danger. My pulse spikes, but I hold my ground. “You must think I'm scared of you, Salvatore. I'm shaking in my boots right now.”

He’s inches away now. I watch as his gaze flicking to my lips, then down my body, taking in my figure before he goes back to my eyes. There's something in his eyes, a look I can't really decipher but it was something dangerous. Something that made my skin sizzle like fire dripped on it.

“You should be,” he murmurs, and before I can react, his mouth crashes into mine—hard, reckless, all heat. My hands grip his shirt, pulling him closer, pressing my lips heavily on his. His tongue bite my lips and I moan in to his mouth before I felt his tongue lick my bottom lip, asking for an entrance. It was at this moment I realise what I had just done. What we were doing. I shove him back, both of us breathing fast.

I slap him hard on the face.

“What the hell was that?” I snap, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, my face burning.

Heis eyes narrow at me.

“A mistake. Get out.”

I hiss at him, and then turn out around to leave, not sparing him a second glance.

I’m halfway to the door when it swings open, my feet immediately coming to an abrupt stop. A woman strides in—Elena, Dante’s ex, all sharp cheekbones and red lipstick, her black dress clinging like a weapon. I recognise her from our engagement party

She looks even prettier closer.

“New toy, Dante?” she purrs, her blue eyes rakes over me but I don’t flinch.

“Not his type, sweetheart,” I say, brushing past her, my shoulder bumping hers. Her laugh follows me out, high and cutting.

“We’ll see, darling.”

Outside, the club’s a blur of lights and bodies. I slip through the crowd, my heart still racing from the kiss, the confrontation. I touch my lips, feeling it tingling.

Nico’s waiting in the alley, leaning against his car, a cigarette glowing. I quickly put my hands down, throwing back my mask on.

“Did you get anything?” he asks, exhaling smoke.

I nod, pulling my jacket tighter. “Dante’s blackmailing a dirty FBI agent, he says it’s to protect both families. But I don’t buy the bullsh*t. Dante is not nice.”

Nico raises an eyebrow, flicking ash. “You think he’s lying?”

I shrug, pacing. “I don't think…I know. He’s too slick. And those transfers you found? It could be tied to this fed. I'm almost sure of it.”

“You're smart,” he chuckles.

Nico tosses his cigarette, grinding it under his black boot. “I’ve got gossip. The fed’s name is Carter. Just as you said. He’s dirty, takes bribes. Dante’s got real wicked dirt on him, probably enough to buy and own him.”

I stop pacing, processing what he just said. “And the transfers?” I ask.

“Still digging,” he says, “but they’re definitely linked to offshore accounts, same ones Dante’s been moving his ghost money through. My opinion? I think your dad is helping the Salvatore's do a shitty business. He's getting sweet money from the Salvatore's, and you? You are the bargaining chip."

"Alessandra, you should probably stop here. If you take Dante down, your father goes down too."

I had a feeling papa was in alliance with the Salvatore's but I never imagined it was something this dirty.

"Keep at it. I want to see what they're up to. If papa thinks he can throw me into the lion's den without getting bitten in return, he doesn't know what is coming for him," I narrow my eyes at Nico. "And it could also be that Dante has something on papa. He could be blackmailing him him . Papa doesn't do duty deals like this."

Nico immediately nods, before saying a quick goodbye, leaving me all alone.

The week before the wedding is chaos. I’m at Ricci Enterprises by day, pretending to care about shipping contracts while my mind’s still on Dante. Carla, my assistant, as usual notices my edge. “You okay, boss?” she asks, dropping off reports.

I force a smile, sipping cold Americano. “Just wedding jitters and stress.”

She raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “Uh-huh. You only have jitters when you're inlove.”

I glare at her before I soften my look, remembering she didn't really know my relationship with Dante. “Sure,” I mutter back.

“If you need to vent, I’m here,” she says, her eyes kind.

I nod, grateful, but I can’t tell her the truth. Nobody can know what I’m up against.

Nico’s intel keeps coming, slow but steady. He’s hacked into the club’s security, caught Dante meeting Carter twice more.

“He’s got Carter on a leash,” Nico says over coffee at a diner, sliding me a USB drive. “But there’s more, Alessa. Those offshore accounts? They’re tied to a shell company, one your father owns.” I frown as I tuck the drive into my po. Pocket.

“Are they linked to Dante's transfers?” I ask.

“Maybe, I don't know, yet,” he says, sipping his espresso. “I’m close, but it’s buried deep. I have to be very careful. Your fiance's got eyes everywhere. I think your father is giving up his empire soon. The salvatores are planning to own us."

****

I’m barely sleeping, jumping at every slight noise. My anxiety has gotten ten times worse and I find myself taking my pills more than three times a day.

Dad’s doubled my security, but I always manage to ditch them to meet Nico, slipping out through a service exit at the office.

“You’re gonna get caught, one day,” Carla warns me, catching me sneaking back in. I slip a grin on my face, brushing it off. “Gotta keep life exciting. What's life without risk.” She shakes her head, muttering about my sanity, but I’m already gone, back to my desk, digging through Nico’s latest files that flood my table.

The transfers in Dante's records started post-FBI raids, millions funneled to the Dad, unmarked. Why? A payoff? Blackmail? Or is Dante truly buying his way into our empire with my Dad aware?

I cross-reference with Nico’s data, my head pounding, a migraine slowly forming. The shell company’s name—Vortex Holdings—keeps popping up, linked to both Dante and the transfers. It’s a thread, but I need more. I won't get too far with just this. Dante is sleek, but I need to be sleeker.

I’m at the office late, the city has gotten dark outside, when my phone buzzes—a blocked number. I recognise it immediately but I still press answer.

“You’re digging too deep, mi Amore” Dante says, his voice calm like the sea.

I lean back, smirking despite myself. “Worried I’ll find the skeletons.”

He laughs, low and dangerous. “Keep pushing, Ricci, and you’ll seek what you find. But you'll regret it.”

I grip the phone, my voice steady. “Threats don’t scare me, Salvatore. You’ll need to try harder. Poke deeper. I know what you're doing, and I'm going to get to the root of it. If you think you can get your hands on us, try harder. This empire belongs to me, not papa, not you."

He muttered something under his breath before he hangs up, and I’m left staring at the screen, my heart racing. He knows I’m onto him, and that makes this more dangerous. I need to be watchful.

The night before our wedding, I’m at the mansion, dodging decorators, caterers and even my personal event planner setting up for tomorrow’s circus. I almost start to feel claustrophobic. I can't help but think that something awful is about to happen but I quickly dismiss it. I can't let Dante threat get to me.

I slip into Dad’s study, needing the quiet. The room’s dark, the air heavy with his musky cologne. I’m pacing, replaying Dante’s call, when I hear a loud thud.

“Dad?” I call, turning. He’s slumped over his desk, foam at his lips, his eyes half-open.

My eyes widen with shock, my hands thrown to cover my mouth.

“Dad!” I scream, running and dropping beside him, my hands shaking as I check his pulse. Sh*t! They're faint, erratic. I quickly grab my phone, dialing 911. “Hurry, he’s not breathing right!”

My eyes burn with tears but they don't slip down. It seems today was no different. I've never cried.

Medics begin to swim into the Ricci's mansion, their voices a blur as they work. I’m frozen, watching them load him onto a stretcher.

As they wheel him out, I suddenly feel him grab my wrist, his voice raspy and tired. “Don’t trust anyone, mi cara—especially not your husband-to-be.” His hand then falls, and he’s gone, the ambulance doors slamming.

I stand in the pavement, shaking, his words sinking in like a fat bar of lead. I turn around, and Dante’s in the doorway, his face blank, watching me like a hawk in the shadow.

I step toward him, my voice low, almost trembling. It was probably trembling but I refuse to admit my weakness in front of him. “What have you done, Salvatore?”

He doesn’t make an effort to move, his eyes stare at me, steady. “Nothing,” he says, his voice calm, way too calm for the situation. “But you’re asking the wrong question.”

I blink at him, and then clench my fists, wanting to scream, to hit him, grab him by the neck and smash his head into the wall. “Then what’s the right one?” I snap.

He tilts his head, studying me. “Who wants your father dead,” he says and

before I can answer, he turns, disappearing into the hall, leaving me alone with my fear and fury…my panic attack at the surface of my skin.