The morning sun cuts through the heavy velvet curtains of the master suite, casting long, golden bars of light across the dark hardwood floor. The quiet inside the fortress is absolute, broken only by the crackle of a fresh fire in the hearth and the steady, heavy rhythm of the man sleeping beside me.
I lie perfectly still beneath the silk sheets, my skin still tingling from the residual heat of Dante’s massive body. For the first time in three days, the frantic knot of terror in my chest has loosened, replaced by a strange, heavy warmth that feels entirely permanent.
The brass lock on the double doors clicks softly, followed by a low, disciplined knock.
Dante’s amber eyes snap open instantly. He doesn't roll away from me; instead, his large, scarred arm hooks around my waist, pulling my back flush against his bare, solid chest as he barks toward the door, "Speak, Leo."
"The parish is secure, boss," Leo’s voice rumbles through the heavy oak panels, tight and professional. "My detail did a sweep of St. Jude’s at dawn. Silvio’s scouts are parked three blocks out, but they’re just watching. They aren't armed for a breach."
"Tell the captains to double the trailing caravan anyway," Dante commands, his gravelly baritone vibrating straight through my spine. "If Silvio wants to watch me take my wife, I want him to see exactly how many rifles are backing the contract. We leave in one hour."
"Understood, Don Marchetti." Leo’s footsteps fade down the hallway.
The silence returns, thick and highly pressurized. Dante buries his face in the crook of my neck, his rough jawline scraping against my sensitive skin as a low, possessive purr rattles deep in his chest. He slides his hand up from my waist, his long fingers tangling in my hair to tilt my face back toward him.
The tiny pale scar through his left eyebrow shifts as his features harden into that familiar, handsome sheet of unyielding marble.
"Today, the city stops hunting you, Gianna," he whispers, his amber gaze burning down into mine with a fierce, untamed fire. He reaches over to the nightstand, picking up a heavy velvet box and snapping the lid back to reveal a massive, square-cut diamond ring that catches the morning light like ice.
He takes my left hand, his thumb sliding roughly over my knuckles before pushing the heavy band into place. The cold metal sinks into my skin—a beautiful, lethal promise of the cage we are about to lock forever.
"You left the baker on 4th Street," Dante growls softly, his hot breath brushing my lips, sending a violent, electric shiver straight down my spine. "When we walk back through these gates tonight, you are the Donna of this city. Look at me."
I look up, completely losing myself in the dominant, protective depths of his gaze.
"They think they’re watching a wedding," I breathe, my fingers curling into the hard muscles of his shoulder.
"They’re watching an execution," Dante corrects softly, his mouth closing the distance to capture mine in a deep, slow, and utterly demanding declaration of war. "The execution of everyone who ever thought they could touch what belongs to me.”