Emma’s hand trembled as she approached table 7 with the wine bottle. She’d recognized the woman sitting across from Dante Romano the moment she walked through the restaurant doors. The same face from the security footage her deceased brother had sent her 6 months ago. The fiance wasn’t who she claimed to be.
She was Katarina Vulov, assassin for the Brat. Emma watched the woman’s hand slip toward her purse where the gun surely waited. Her heart pounded so hard she thought everyone could hear it. She had seconds to decide. Stay silent and let the most dangerous man in New York die or risk everything to save him.
When Dante’s dark eyes met hers as she poured his wine, she leaned down and whispered words that would change both their lives forever. Run now. If you want to discover how this deadly night began and what happened after that desperate warning, subscribe to the channel and leave a comment telling us where you’re watching from. Every view helps bring more stories like this one.
Let’s see how Emma’s world collided with Dante’s. Three jobs. That’s what it took for Emma Chen to survive in Manhattan while hiding from the people who’d killed her brother. By day, she cleaned office buildings. Evenings, she waited tables at Marello’s, an upscale Italian restaurant in Midtown.
Late nights, she processed data entry from her cramped studio apartment in Queens. Sleep was a luxury she couldn’t afford, but neither was being found by the Vulkoff family. Her brother, James, had been an FBI analyst before they murdered him. He’d discovered something, sent her encrypted files she still didn’t fully understand.
All she knew was that his last message told her to disappear, and she’d been running ever since. Table 7, Emma, VIP section. Marco, the head waiter, thrust the wine list at her. Don’t screw this up. That’s Dante Romano. Her blood turned to ice. Everyone in New York knew that name, even if they only whispered it. Romano, the youngest Dawn to ever control the five families, 32 years old and more powerful than men twice his age. The tabloids called him the gentleman killer, tailored suits and ruthless efficiency.
Why me? Her voice came out steadier than she felt. You always handle VIPs. His people requested a female server. No males approach the table tonight. Marco’s expression was grim. He’s dining with his future bride. Big announcement coming. Just smile, pour wine, and fade into the background. Emma nodded, smoothing her black uniform. She could do invisible. She’d been practicing for 6 months.
The VIP section gleamed with crystal and candle light. Dante Romano sat at the center table, and Emma understood immediately why people feared him. Even seated, his presence dominated the space. His black suit probably cost more than she made in a year. Dark hair swept back from a face that could have been carved from marble.

Sharp jawline, straight nose, and eyes so dark they appeared black in the dim lighting. A tattoo peaked from his collar. Some kind of script she couldn’t read from this distance, but it was his stillness that unnerved her. While his three companions talked and laughed, he remained perfectly motionless, watching everything with the patience of a predator. “Champagne first,” she murmured, approaching with the bottle.
The woman beside him was stunning, blonde, elegant, draped in diamonds. Her hand rested possessively on Dante’s arm. Isn’t this romantic? My parents flew in from Boston just for tonight. The older couple across from them beamed. The father wore an expensive suit, but lacked Dante’s natural authority.
Old money trying to align with new power, Emma recognized. She poured champagne with practiced grace, starting with the future bride. That’s when she saw it. The tattoo on the woman’s inner wrist, barely visible under her bracelet. Three stars and a dagger. Emma’s hands nearly shook so badly she dropped the bottle. That mark, James’s files, the brata.
Careful, Dante’s voice cut through her panic. Deep, controlled, with an edge that promised violence. His eyes locked onto hers for the first time, and Emma felt pinned in place. That’s a $1,000 bottle. My apologies, sir. She steadied her hands through sheer force of will. Russian. His head tilted fractionally. Your eyes Chinese? Fourth generation.
She poured his glass. Will there be anything else? Dante darling. Let the poor girl work. The blonde catarina smiled, but her blue eyes were calculating as they assessed Emma. You’re making her nervous. Am I? He hadn’t looked away. What’s your name? Emma, sir. Emma. He tested it like tasting wine. How long have you worked here? 4 months, a pulse hammered.
Why was he asking? Did he suspect something? If you need anything, please signal. I’ll be nearby. She retreated, but her mind raced. Katarina Vulov. She was certain now. James’s last file had contained surveillance photos. This woman meeting with Brat for leadership, discussing the Romano problem. Emma hadn’t understood then. She did now.

Dante Romano was being set up by his own fianceé. The evening crawled by with agonizing slowness. She watched them order appetizers, entre dessert, watched Katarina laugh and touch Dante’s hand, play the perfect bride to be, watched the older couple toast to the upcoming wedding. The whole time Katarina’s purse sat on the table, and Emma knew knew there was a weapon inside.
The assassination would be clean. A silenced shot in a crowded restaurant, blame falling on a random server or rival family. The Vulkoff family would consolidate Romano territory before his organization could respond. They’d been planning this for months.
Emma refilled water glasses, removed plates, existed in the background like wallpaper, but her mind calculated odds. If she warned him and was wrong, he’d probably have her killed for the insult. If she stayed silent and he died, she’d have to live with that. And if Katarina succeeded, the power vacuum would trigger a war that would consume half of New York.
Besides, warned the small voice in her head, the Vulovs killed your brother. Dante Romano might be a monster, but he’s not your monster. Emma, Marco appeared at her elbow. Table 7 wants the wine you recommended earlier. Mister Romano specifically requested you bring it. Her stomach dropped.
The Barolo? He said you have good taste. She retrieved the bottle from the cellar, hands shaking now. This was it. Katarina would make her move during dessert. Emma had seen her check her phone three times in the last 10 minutes. Coordination with someone.
Backup or escape plan? When Emma approached the table, Dante’s eyes tracked her movement with unnerving focus. He’d been watching her all night, she realized. Not obviously, but she’d felt that dark gaze following her around the room. the 2015 Bo. She presented the bottle. Open it. His command was quiet but absolute. As she worked the cork, Katarina excused herself. Lady’s room. Don’t finish dessert without me.

Emma’s heart stopped. This was wrong. The timing was wrong. Katarina wouldn’t leave before. Then she understood. The woman wasn’t going to shoot Dante. She was going to create an alibi while someone else did. The cork came free with a soft pop. Emma poured a tasting portion into Dante’s glass. He swirled it, inhaled, then took a slow sip.
His eyes never left hers. “Perfect.” He set down the glass. “You chose well. She should leave. Should step back and return to safety.” Instead, Emma leaned down to refill his glass and let her lips brush his ear. “Run now.” Dante Romano hadn’t survived to 32 in his world by ignoring his instincts, and every instinct screamed that the terrified waitress, currently trembling beside him, was telling the truth.
He stood in one fluid motion, his hand already reaching for the weapon concealed at his back. “Luca, Marco, with me now.” His two bodyguards materialized from their posts, confusion on their faces, but weapons drawn. Dante grabbed Emma’s wrist. Her pulse fluttered like a trapped bird under his fingers and pulled her behind him. What? Katarina’s father started. The first shot shattered the window behind where Dante had been sitting 2 seconds ago.
Chaos erupted. Screaming diners hit the floor. More shots controlled professional. Three shooters. Dante calculated positioned in the building across the street. Katarina’s bathroom break had been the signal. Get them out. Dante shoved Emma toward Luca. Back exit. Armored car. Go. But Emma dug in her heels. Surprisingly strong for someone so small. The kitchen. There’s a secondary team.
Two men burst through the kitchen doors. Automatic weapons raised. Dante moved on pure training, putting himself between Emma and the shooters. His first shot took down the lead man. His second caught the other in the shoulder. Luca and Marco returned fire, and Dante used the cover to push Emma toward the wine cellar entrance.
How did you know? Later, she stumbled on her heels and he caught her, practically carrying her down the narrow stairs. The wine celler was dark, cool, lined with thousands of bottles worth more than most people’s houses. Dante pulled out his phone, already calling his second in command, Salvator. Burned, location compromised.

Katarina’s Bratva, send the entire detail to Marello’s. Lock down the penthouse. Nobody in or out. Done. Salvatore’s voice was grim. The woman? Dante looked at Emma, who’d pressed herself against a wine rack, her chest heaving. Mascara smudged under her eyes, uniform torn at the shoulder. She looked like she might shatter if he touched her too hard.
She’d also just saved his life. She’s with me. He disconnected and listened. Gunfire continued upstairs. His people had arrived fast. Good, but they needed to move. The Brata wouldn’t stop with one failed attempt. There’s a tunnel, Emma said suddenly. James told me. My brother. He said all these old buildings have tunnels from prohibition. I saw the entrance when I was bringing up wine last week. Your brother.
Dante’s mind worked fast. James Chen, FBI analyst, killed 6 months ago in a car accident. That wasn’t an accident. Her face went white. How do you Because I’ve been looking for the person he sent his files to before he died. Dante moved closer and she shrank back. He stopped keeping space between them.
Your brother discovered the Vulkoff family was preparing to move against mine. He died trying to warn me. I’ve had people searching for his insurance policy for months. That was you. I don’t know what’s in the files, she whispered. They’re encrypted. I was too scared to try. Later, he pulled a massive wine rack away from the wall.
It moved on hidden wheels, revealing a small wooden door behind it. Smart girl, let’s go. The tunnel was cramped, barely tall enough for him to walk upright. Emma’s breathing echoed in the confined space. Dante led with his phone’s flashlight, gun ready.
The passage stretched for what felt like miles, but was probably only two blocks. They emerged in a parking garage. His backup car sat in its designated spot, a black Mercedes sedan, armored, always ready. He’d learned early to have multiple escape routes. in. He opened the passenger door. Emma hesitated and he saw her calculating. Run from the mafia dawn who now knew her identity.
Or trust the man she’d just saved. I won’t hurt you, he said quietly. You have my word. The word of a mafia boss. The word of a man whose life you saved. He met her eyes. And who knows? The Vulovs will kill you the second they realize you warned me. You’re in this now whether you like it or not. That decided her. She slid into the car and Dante rounded to the driver’s side.
He peeled out of the garage, already mapping their route to his safest property. The penthouse was too obvious now. Where are we going? Emma’s voice was small. Somewhere they won’t think to look. He navigated through side streets, checking mirrors constantly. My mother’s house in Brooklyn. Nobody touches that property.
Not even the Vulovs would violate that sanctuary. Your mother? She sounded almost hysterical. I’m meeting your mother. She’s dead. The words came out flat. Has been for 10 years. But the house is kept exactly as she left it. Protected. Sacred. He glanced at her. You’ll be safe there tonight. Tomorrow we figure out the rest. Silence fell, broken only by the sound of traffic and distant sirens.
Dante’s phone buzzed constantly. Reports coming in. Three dead at the restaurant. Katarina had disappeared. Her parents claimed ignorance. were being questioned. The Vulkoff family denied everything. “I’m sorry,” Emma said suddenly. “About your engagement. I know you probably. I didn’t love her.” His voice was cold. It was an alliance.
Old family in Boston looking to connect with New York Power. She played her part well. I almost didn’t see it coming, but you suspected something. I suspect everything. It keeps me alive. He turned onto a quiet residential street, but I didn’t see you coming. a waitress who knows about FBI files and secret tunnels.
I’m just trying to survive. So am I, Bella. So am I. The house was a modest brownstone, completely at odds with Dante’s usual world of pen houses and luxury. He pulled into a private garage, entered a code that seemed absurdly long, and led her inside. The interior took Emma’s breath away, not because it was luxurious, though the antiques and artwork were clearly valuable, but because it felt like walking into a memory. Photos covered every surface.
A woman who shared Dante’s dark eyes smiled from frames. She was beautiful, Emma said softly. She was everything. Dante locked multiple doors behind them, checking security feeds on a tablet. Breast cancer went fast. She made me promise to always have a sanctuary, a place that wasn’t about business or power, just peace.
He showed her to a bedroom on the second floor. Bathrooms through there. I’ll bring clothes. You’re safe here, Emma. I promise. She looked up at him. This dangerous man who suddenly seemed almost human. Why am I still alive? You could have just thanked me and dropped me somewhere. Because you have information I need.
Because the Vulkoffs will hunt you now. Because, he paused, and something flickered in those dark eyes. Because you risked everything to save someone you didn’t know. That’s rare in my world. Worth protecting. Before she could respond, he was gone. closing the door quietly behind him.
Emma sank onto the bed, her legs finally giving out. Her uniform was ruined, her hands still shaking. She’d saved a mafia boss’s life. She’d become a target. Her carefully maintained invisibility was shattered. And somehow, looking at the photos of Dante Romano’s mother on the walls, she felt safer than she had in 6 months.
Emma woke to sunlight streaming through lace curtains and the smell of coffee. For one confused moment, she forgot where she was. Then memory crashed back. The shooting, the tunnel, Dante’s dark eyes promising protection. She found clothes folded outside her door, designer jeans that fit perfectly, a soft cashmere sweater, even new undergarments in her exact size.
The precision was almost unsettling. Downstairs, Dante stood in the kitchen cooking. Actually, cooking, not having someone cook for him. He traded his suit for dark jeans and a black t-shirt that showed tattoos she hadn’t noticed before. Intricate script covering his forearms. Something larger hidden under his collar. You cook.
She couldn’t hide her surprise. My mother’s kitchen. I don’t let anyone else use it. He plated eggs and set them at the small table. Eat, then we talk. The eggs were perfect. Emma ate mechanically, aware of him watching her with that unnerving stillness. In daylight, she could see details she’d missed. The slight scar through his left eyebrow. The shadows under his eyes suggesting he hadn’t slept.
The way his shoulders stayed tense even in this sanctuary. The files, he said finally. I need to see them. They’re encrypted. I tried every password I could think of. Try my name. She blinked. What? James Chen was trying to warn me specifically. He might have encrypted them with my name. Dante’s expression was unreadable.
Where are they? cloud storage I can access from any device. She hesitated. Why would he use your name? Because he and I had met once 3 years ago. Dante poured more coffee. He approached me at a charity gala. Said he knew who’d killed my mother, not the cancer, who’d given her cancer. Experimental drugs her doctor was paid to prescribe by a rival family.
He gave me everything I needed to take them down. Emma’s hand froze halfway to her mouth. You knew my brother? I owed him a debt. When I heard about his death, I investigated, found the Brata connection. I’ve been preparing for war with them since then. His eyes locked on hers. Your brother was a good man. He saved me once before from living with never knowing the truth. Now his sister has saved me again.
The weight of that sat between them. Emma set down her fork, no longer hungry. If I open these files, what happens? We take down the Vulov family permanently. No hesitation, no doubt, just cold certainty. And you stay under my protection until it’s done. I don’t want to be part of a war.
You’ve been part of it since James chose you as his insurance. His voice softened fractionally. I won’t lie, Emma. Once you open those files, you’re fully in my world. The safest place for you is close to me, visible, protected. The Vulovs fear me. They won’t touch someone under my direct protection. What does that mean? Direct protection.
He was quiet for a moment. It means you stay in one of my properties. One of my people is always nearby. You work for me, not some restaurant where anyone can reach you. You become part of my household, like a prisoner. Her voice went flat. Like someone I value. He leaned forward and she saw something fierce in his expression. I don’t take responsibility lightly, Bella.
If you’re under my protection, nothing touches you. Not the Brat, not the FBI, not God himself if he comes calling. But yes, your freedom is limited until the Vulovs are neutralized. Emma’s mind raced. Return to her old life. Running, hiding, waiting to be found. Or accept protection from a man whose world involved shootouts and death.
I need something in return, she heard herself say. Information about my brother, everything, you know, the truth about how he died. Dante’s expression shifted. Respect. Maybe done. Get your laptop. An hour later, they sat in Maria Romano’s study, surrounded by her books and photographs.
He’s fingers trembled as she typed Dante’s name into the password field. The files opened. Dante went very still as he read, his face becoming a mask. Emma watched as page after page revealed the Vulov family’s decadel long plan to destroy the Romano organization from within. Katarina had been planted four years ago, building a relationship, becoming indispensable.
The wedding was supposed to be the final step, consolidation of territories before the assassination. But there was more. Names, dates, offshore accounts, proof of collaboration with federal prosecutors willing to look the other way. A network of corruption that went deeper than Emma had imagined. This is Dante’s voice was rough. This is everything. James Chen gave us everything.
What will you do? He looked at her and something in his eyes made her breath catch. I’m going to keep my promise to your brother. I’m going to burn them to the ground. Every single one of them. His phone rang. He listened for a moment, his expression darkening. When? How many? A pause. Understood. Full lockdown. Nobody moves. He disconnected. The volovs just hit two of my warehouses. Testing our defenses.
It’s starting. I should, Emma stood, not sure where she meant to go. Dante was suddenly there, close enough that she could smell his cologne. Something expensive and dark. You should stay right here, where I can keep you safe. You don’t even know me. I know you risked your life for someone you’d never met. I know you’re scared, but you came to work anyway. Stayed hidden, but didn’t run.
I know you loved your brother enough to carry his burden for 6 months without breaking. His hand lifted slowly, giving her time to pull away, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know you’re brave, Emma. Braver than most men in my organization,” her heart hammered. This close, she could see flexcks of gold in his dark eyes. Could feel the heat radiating from him.
“Dangerous! He was so dangerous. “I’m not brave,” she whispered. “I’m terrified. That’s what makes you brave.” His thumb brushed her cheekbone and her skin caught fire. being terrified and doing it anyway. The doorbell rang, an ordinary sound in this extraordinary moment.
Dante stepped back instantly, the heat between them replaced by cold professionalism. That’s Salvator. We need to move you to better protection. He was already walking away. Pack your things. We’re going to my estate in Westchester. 30 acres private security off all the grids. Emma watched him go, her skin still tingling where he touched her. This was insane.
She was getting deeper into a world she didn’t understand, trusting a man who’d probably killed more people than she’d ever met. But as she climbed the stairs to gather her few borrowed possessions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been preparing for this moment since the night her brother died. James had chosen her as his insurance policy for a reason.
Maybe it was time to stop running and start fighting back. When she came downstairs, Dante was speaking rapid Italian to a man who looked like he could bench press a car. They both turned as she approached. Emma, this is Salvatoreé, my second. Hell coordinate your security. Dante’s voice was all business now.
You’ll have a suite at the estate, private, comfortable, but you stay on the grounds. No exceptions until I say otherwise. And if I refuse, his smile was sharp as a knife. Then I’ll lock you in the safest room in the house and guard the door myself. Your choice. Comfortable captivity or uncomfortable captivity. Salvatorei coughed something that might have been a laugh.
Emma lifted her chin. Then I choose to cooperate. But I want access to those files. I want to understand what my brother discovered. I want to be part of taking them down. You want to help? Dante’s eyes narrowed. I want justice for James and for whatever version of yourself you lost when they came after you.
Something flickered across his face. Surprise maybe or recognition. He stepped closer and this time Emma didn’t back away. You’re not what I expected, Bella. Neither are you. He smiled then, a real smile that transformed his face from merely handsome to absolutely devastating. Emma’s stomach flipped. This is going to be interesting. He offered his arm like a gentleman from another era.
Shall we go to war, Emma Chen? She looked at his extended arm at the tattoos and the strength and the man who’d somehow become her unlikely protector. Then she took it. Let’s destroy them. 3 weeks. That’s how long it took for Emma’s world to become unrecognizable. The Westchester estate was a fortress disguised as a mansion. Emma had her own wing, bedroom, sitting room, private library, all decorated in understated luxury.
Guards rotated every 6 hours. The grounds were monitored by cameras, motion sensors, and men who spoke in codes she couldn’t break. But it was Dante who occupied her thoughts far more than the security. He’d been right about visibility.
He kept her close, insisting she attend dinners with his inner circle, accompany him to meetings where she said nothing, but heard everything. The message was clear. Emma Chen was under his protection. Touch her and face him. What he hadn’t warned her about was the intimacy of being in someone’s constant orbit. late nights working on the Vulov files together.
His shoulder brushing hers as they bent over documents. Morning coffee that he brought to her room himself, somehow knowing exactly how she took it after only a few days. The way his eyes followed her across a room, tracking her with an attention that felt physical, and the small kindnesses that undid her more than any grand gesture, replacing her three cheap cell phones with one secure line, filling her library with books by her favorite authors, arranging for her mother to receive an anonymous donation that cleared all her debts. “You didn’t have to do that,” Emma had said when she discovered it. “Your
mother raised the woman who saved my life. It’s the least I can do.” His voice was casual, but his eyes were intense. Besides, you were working yourself to death with those three jobs. Now you work for me. Doing what exactly? I haven’t done anything except read files. You’re learning my world, understanding the players, the structure, the rules. That’s more valuable than you realize.
He’d smiled slightly. And you keep me human, Bella. Remind me why we’re doing this. The war with the Vulovs escalated daily. Businesses burned. Shipments disappeared. People died. Emma tried not to think about the bodies, but Dante never hid it from her. “This is my world,” he’d said after a particularly brutal attack left two of his men dead. “The world you’re choosing to stay in. I won’t pretty it up for you.
” But she also saw the other side. How he sent money to the widows, how he attended every funeral, how he carried the weight of every death. The man who’d seemed cold in that restaurant was capable of remarkable depth of feeling. Tonight they were attending a gallery opening, public, visible, sending a message that Dante Romano remained unbowed.
Emma wore a dress that cost more than her old rent, emerald silk that made her skin glow, and her eyes catch the light. When she descended the stairs, Dante stood at the bottom, stunning in a charcoal suit. His expression when he saw her made her pulse race, beautiful. The word was quiet, almost reverent.
He offered his arm, ready to make them nervous. The gallery was packed with Manhattan’s elite. Old money, new money, and dangerous money, all mingling under the guise of culture. Emma felt eyes tracking their entrance, whispers following in their wake. Dante kept her close, his hand warm on her lower back.
They studied paintings, sipped champagne, and she watched him play the room like a maestro conducting an orchestra, charming here, threatening there, always in complete control. Mr. Romano. A voice cut through the crowd. Cultured, female, dangerous. How unexpected to see you out and about after the recent unpleasantness. Emma turned to face Katarina Vulkoff. The other woman looked immaculate.
Blonde hair swept up, ice blue dress, diamonds everywhere, but her eyes were serpent cold as they assessed Emma. Katarina. Dante’s voice could have frozen the sun. Or should I say Katarina Vulov, since we’re no longer pretending. No need for pretense anymore. Her smile was sharp. Though I’m surprised you brought a new toy so quickly.
Is this your type now? Waitresses? Emma felt Dante’s hand tighten on her back. Before he could respond, she stepped forward. Better a waitress with integrity than a trust fund terrorist with daddy issues. Her voice was steady, almost conversational. How does it feel, Katarina, knowing you lost? He’s alive. You’re exposed.
And your family is crumbling. All because you didn’t see me coming. Katarina’s face went ugly. You stupid little walk away. Dante’s voice was soft, lethal. Before I forget, we’re in public. But Katarina’s hand was already moving toward her clutch. Emma saw the motion, recognized the threat, and reacted on pure instinct. She grabbed a champagne flute from a passing tray, and threw its contents directly into Katarina’s face.
The other woman shrieked. Security descended and in the chaos, Emma felt Dante’s chest shake against her back. He was laughing. “Time to go, I think.” He steered her toward the exit, his body shielding hers. Once in the car, he turned to her, eyes bright with something that made her stomach flip. “That was possibly the most satisfying thing I’ve ever witnessed.
I shouldn’t have. You should have done it weeks ago.” His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. “You’re not scared of me anymore. I’m terrified of you. The truth came out breathless. But I’m more terrified of her. Of them, of going back to running. You’ll never run again. Not while I’m alive. His voice was a promise and a threat all at once.
Emma, I need you to understand something. You’re not a job to me anymore. Not just someone under my protection. You’ve become His phone buzzed. He swore in Italian and answered. What? Emma watched his face change, saw the color drain from his skin. How many? His voice was razor sharp. Now, where is she? Understood. I’m coming. He disconnected already. Barking orders to the driver. Hospital.
Now, what happened? Fear clutched Emma’s chest. Salvatore’s wife. The Volkovs found her, shot her twice. She’s in surgery. His jaw was granite. They’re done playing by rules. At the hospital, Dante became a force of nature, commandeering a waiting room, posting guards, taking calls in rapidfire Italian. Emma watched this man, who’d been almost tender with her, transform into the dawn everyone feared.
But when Salvatorei emerged from his wife’s room, tears streaming down his face. Dante wrapped him in an embrace that spoke of brotherhood, not hierarchy. “She’ll make it,” Salvator choked out. But they they shot her in front of our daughter. Our six-year-old watched. I know. Dante’s voice was pure iron. And they’ll pay.
Every single one of them. I promise you, brother. I promise. Hours passed. Emma brought coffee, kept vigil with the wives and children of Dante’s organization. Women who should have been frightened of her. The newcomer, the outsider, instead accepted her presence like she belonged. Dawn was breaking when Dante finally sank into the chair beside her. She’s stable.
Doctors say full recovery. He rubbed his face. But Salvatore’s daughter, the trauma, that child will have nightmares for years. Emma didn’t think. She just reached for his hand. His fingers closed around hers like a lifeline. This is why I didn’t want this, he said quietly. This feeling, this connection.
In my world, everything you care about becomes a weapon against you. The Vulovs shot Salvatore’s wife to send me a message. If they knew what you’ve become to me, what have I become? Her voice was barely audible. He looked at her, and the raw emotion in his eyes stole her breath. Everything. You’ve become everything, Emma. His free hand came up to her face.
When Katarina reached for her purse tonight, my first thought wasn’t my own safety. It was yours. You’ve gotten under my skin, into my head. I can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t sleep without knowing you’re safe. Can’t breathe properly when you’re in danger. Dante, I’m falling in love with you.
The words were rough, almost angry, and it’s the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done. Emma’s heart stopped, restarted, hammered so hard she thought it might break free. I don’t want you to feel obligated, he continued. I know the power dynamic is wrong. You’re under my protection in my world, but I need you to know, need you to understand what you are to me. She should have been scared.
should have recognized the danger in his words, the complexity in their situation. Instead, Emma felt something unlock in her chest, something that had been frozen since the night her brother died. “I’m falling for you, too,” she whispered. “And it terrifies me.
Not because of what you do, but because I can’t imagine going back to a world where you’re not in it.” His eyes searched hers. “You mean that? I’ve watched you carry the weight of everyone’s safety. I’ve seen you break rules for kindness, seen you honor your mother’s memory, seen you care for your people like family. You’re not the monster everyone thinks you are. I am that monster, Bella, just not with you.
Then maybe I’m okay with monsters. He kissed her then, soft, careful, like she was something precious that might break. Emma melted into it, into him, her hands fisting in his shirt. The kiss deepened, and she tasted coffee and desperation and something that felt like coming home. When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Dante rested his forehead against hers.
“We can’t do this here. Not now.” His voice was strained. “But soon. When this is over, when you’re safe. When we’ve won.” She corrected. His smile was fierce. “When we’ve won.” The hospital door burst open. One of Dante’s men breathing hard. Boss, we found them. The Vulovs. All of them. They’re at their warehouse in Newark. We have them surrounded. Dante stood transformation instant.
From the man who just kissed her to the dawn who commanded an empire. Mobilize everyone. I want no escapes. He looked down at Emma. You stay here with Salvator and his family protected. No. She stood too. You told me I was part of this, that I worked for you. Then let me finish it. I want to face them. I want them to see that they lost.
Emma, you said I keep you human. Then take me with you. Remind yourself why we’re doing this. He stared at her for a long moment. Then, against all logic and safety, get her a vest. She stays in the car. No arguments. Emma nodded. Because she understood now. She wasn’t just fighting for herself anymore.
She was fighting for Salvatore’s daughter, who’d witnessed horror. For James, who’d given everything to expose the truth. for Dante, who carried more weight than any man should. She was fighting to end this war. And as they drove toward Newark, Dante’s hand in hers, Emma realized she’d stopped running weeks ago. Now she was standing and fighting.
The warehouse loomed in the pre-dawn darkness, surrounded by Dante’s people. Inside, the Vulov family knew they’d lost. The files James had compiled, combined with Dante’s resources, had dismantled their empire in 3 weeks. Last chance. Dante spoke into his phone to someone inside. Surrender now.
Walk away or burn with everything you’ve built. Emma couldn’t hear the response, but she saw Dante’s expression harden. Then burn. What happened next was over in minutes. Controlled, efficient, final. The Vulkoff family’s power crumbled. Their assets seized. Their alliances shattered.
And when it was done, Katarina Vulkov was brought out in handcuffs, destined for a prison where Dante’s reach extended further than the laws. As she passed the car, Katarina’s eyes met Emma’s through the window. “Worth it!” Katarina spat. Emma rolled down the window. “Ask yourself that question in 20 years.
” When Dante returned to the car, exhaustion written in every line of his body, Emma pulled him close. “It’s over,” he said simply. No. She turned his face to hers. It’s just beginning. 18 months later, Emma stood in the library of the Westchester estate. Her library now filled with books about business management and Italian language primers and cookbooks for recipes Maria Romano had loved.
The room smelled like old paper, and the roses Dante had planted outside the window. She heard his footsteps before he appeared, knew his rhythm by heart now. When he entered, his tie was already loosened, his jacket discarded somewhere. Home, not work. How was the board meeting? She turned from the window.
Tedious, but your suggestion about the community center expansion was approved. They’ll break ground next month. He crossed to her, hands finding her waist. You’re getting too good at this. Soon you won’t need me at all. I’ll always need you. She touched his face. This man who’d somehow become her home.
Though the board is finally starting to respect me without checking if you put me up to it because you’re brilliant. They’d be fools not to listen. He kissed her softly. Salvator called. His daughter started therapy. She’s doing better. Even drew a picture of you. Said you were the pretty lady who brings cookies. Emma’s throat tightened.
She’d been visiting Salvatore’s family weekly, bringing treats, reading to his daughter, trying to help heal what the Volkovs had broken. I’m glad she deserves peace. So do you, Bella. His arms tightened around her. Every day I wake up grateful that you whispered those words. That you saved me. We saved each other. She leaned into him. You gave me a purpose beyond running. A family beyond loss. You gave me your world. You gave me a reason to deserve it. He pulled back slightly, eyes serious.
Emma Chen, love of my life. Pain in my ass when you argue with my strategies. Will you? Yes. She laughed, crying somehow. Whatever you’re asking, yes. He smiled. That devastating smile that still made her knees weak. You don’t even know the question. Doesn’t matter. The answer is yes. Dante kissed her then, deep and thorough and full of promise.
And Emma thought about the terrified waitress she’d been. The woman who’d risked everything on one whispered warning. She’d saved a life that night. She hadn’t known she was also saving her own. This story has reached its end. If it touched your heart in some way, leave your like and share it with someone who also enjoys emotional stories.
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