“Don.”
“Inform the men. Secure the compound. No one in or out until I say otherwise.”
A pause. Brief.
“May I ask the occasion?”
“I’m getting married today.”
Silence on the line. I can hear him recalculating, adjusting whatever mental ledger he keeps of the family’s business.
Then, smooth as ever.
“Of course. Congratulations.”
He hangs up. I set the phone down. Turn back to the woman who just upended every plan I had.
Her lips are parted. That controlled composure fracturing.
“You.” She stops. Starts again. “You don’t want to discuss terms? Sign a contract?”
“No.”
“But the contract.”
“You offered yourself to pay your father’s debt.” I close the distance between us. One step. Two. Until I’m standing over her again, until I can see the gold flecks in her dark eyes.
“I’m accepting. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
She swallows. Hard. I track the movement down her throat.
“I haven’t.”
“Then we marry today.” I let myself look at her. All of her. The curve of her mouth. The flush spreading across her cheeks. The way she’s holding herself so still, like any movement will shatter the moment.
“My sister will help you get ready. There’s a room at the end of the east wing.”
“Dante.”
My name in her mouth. The first time she’s used it.
My cock twitches. Goddamn it.
“Don Santoro,” I correct. My voice drops without my permission. “We’re not there yet.”
She holds my gaze. Searching. I don’t know if she finds what she needs.
Then she nods. Once.
“Don Santoro.”
She turns. Walks toward the door. And I track every step, that burgundy silk swaying, the fabric pulling across her hips in a way that makes my hands ache to follow.
She pauses at the threshold. Doesn’t look back.
“Two hours?”
“Two hours.”
