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“You didn’t bring any weapons with you, did you?” That was the first thing he asked. No, Hi honey, how was the rest of your day? Not that I thought he would, but I didn’t expect him to ask that.
“I didn’t know it was that kind of dinner party,” I replied smoothly.
Dante frowned, his eyes darting over my shoulder. “You didn’t bring your security guards.” That wasn’t a question.
“I didn’t need them,” I said, brushing past him. “Come on. Let’s just get this over with.”
I didn’t get far. His hand latched around my arm, pulling me back. “This isn’t a joke, Sienna. Someone is after you. You should be armed and guarded whenever you’re not at home or at the office.”
Yanking my arm out of his grasp, I glared at him. “Are you saying your own house isn’t safe?”
“Nowhere is safe for us. You know that.”
The darkness in his eyes made me shudder before I could stop myself. “I think I’ll be fine here.”
He said nothing as he followed me towards the front door. A butler held it open as I stepped into a grand foyer, complete with a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. I was surprised to find that, besides the chandelier, the decor was not what I had expected.
The floors were a classy black walnut, a nice contrast between the white furniture and walls. Before us, an enormous staircase wound around one side of the foyer, leading to the second floor. There was a short corridor just beneath the landing, though I had no idea where it led. On my left, a short hall led towards what looked to be the living room, which honestly made me a bit jealous. It was modern, more minimalistic than my own apartment, and the theme seemed to be monochrome with a dash of green from the plants that sat in the corners.
To my right, sliding doors were opened to reveal the dining hall. One rectangular table stretched from front to back, matching chairs placed neatly around it. The table had already been set. Fine China and silverware gleamed under the chandeliers that hung above the table. A few statues sat atop dark wooden hutches and drawers along the walls, oil paintings of Italy hanging in between.
“May I take your things, miss?” the butler asked.
Before I could even open my mouth to reply, Dante said, “It’s alright, Tommaso. She can leave them in my room.”
His room? As in his childhood bedroom? That I was excited to see. Maybe he had embarrassing bed sheets or posters hanging from the walls. It could definitely be something I could use against him later if he decided to be an asshole again, but Dante didn’t seem worried. He gave Killian one last look and led me up the stairs to the second floor.
Here, a forest green rug led from one end of the hall to the other, the walls lined with matching doors. Most of them were closed, though I saw a cozy library in one room as we walked past. I would have rather spent the night there than go back downstairs for what I knew would be an awkward dinner.
Dante stopped in front of one of the last doors at the end of the hall, away from the rest of the house. He quietly opened the door, allowing me to step through first. He switched on the light, giving me my first glance at his past.
It was…disappointing. The room was so well-kept and looked so ordinary, that I almost thought he’d just taken me to a guest room. There were no personal items at all, no pictures on the walls or propped on top of the desk at the window. Plush gray carpet covered the floor, with walls that were painted the same white color as the downstairs. A beige and white duvet set was spread across the mattress. I slowly turned, taking it all in.
“I need to talk to you.” Dante closed the door behind him.
I set my bag on the duvet without looking at him. “About…?”
“I think my father was trying to ambush you tonight. This dinner was only supposed to be you, me, and him. Not a family dinner like we thought.”
Frowning, I sat at the edge of the bed. “Supposed to be?”
“I convinced Killian to crash it, along with my mother.”
“But why would your father do that?” I shook my head. It didn’t really make sense. Sal’s father was completely against me, but he knew I wouldn’t cave and hand over my title if he threatened me over a plate of butter chicken. “If he wanted to shake me down, he could have done it any time. Why now and why at his house?”
“I think it’s because you decided to shut down operations until this whole thing blows over. Maybe he’s hoping to steal some of your contacts.”
“He wouldn’t need to invite me over for spaghetti for that,” I pointed out. There had to be something else. Dante’s eyes slid away, telling me he was hiding something. “What?”
He glanced up. “What?”
“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked, arms crossing.
“There’s been…rumors.” He looked away again.
“Rumors about what?” I couldn’t hide the irritation in my voice.
“About a shipment of guns—your guns—being distributed for an attack.”
