DANTE’S POV The cigarette burned a solitary, furious red against the snow.
It had stopped snowing an hour ago, leaving the lawn buried under heavy, suffocating white layers.
Security guards moved across the perimeter in pairs down below.
Their movements were silent, routine, totally uninteresting.
I barely saw them.
My lips still burned from her kiss, a low, relentless arousal buzzing just beneath my skin.
I’d never felt this way about a woman before, completely consumed to the point that I lost all sense of reasoning.
It wasn’t like me.
I was supposed to be in control.
I should have learned my lesson from the last time, yet here I was, wrecked by the ghost of her touch.
Footsteps crunched over crisp snow behind me.
A harsh sigh followed.
“I dropped her off as instructed,” Fernando said, his voice raspy from the chill.
I didn’t turn around right away.
Took a slow drag, letting the smoke settle the raw edge in my chest before looking back.
Fernando looked miserable.
Bright red ears poking out from under his beanie, stray blond hair in his eyes, wiping his wet nose on his sleeve.
“You better have a damn good explanation for why you’re risking everything for a woman you met two days ago,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Shut it, Nando,” I growled around the filter.
“No, Dante.
You’re risking your safety, and mine, for a total stranger.” His voice cracked slightly.
Anger and fear wrestling in those blue eyes, cheekbones flushed from the cold as he took an aggressive step out onto the patio.
“We can’t afford a distraction like this right now.
Nip it in the bud before it blows up in our faces.” I let out a slow stream of smoke, watching it drift between us before giving him a grim smile.
“You little shit.
Who the hell are you talking to?
I know what I’m doing.” “Do you?” He scoffed, stepping closer.
“Because from here, it looks like a completely different part of your anatomy is calling the shots.” A sharp, mocking glance down at my belt.
White-hot anger flared up instantly.
What pissed me off wasn’t his insolence; it was the fact that he was right.
Put her near me, and my head cleared of logic and filled with pure impulse.
It was becoming a dangerous, pathetic liability.
“Don’t tell me the almighty Dante has actually fallen for a girl he barely knows,” Fernando pressed, tone dripping with sarcasm.
I leveled a glare at him that usually sent grown men backing into a corner.
Fernando didn’t even flinch.
The kid had grown up fast.
A fleeting memory surfaced of the terrified adolescent who couldn’t utter three words without stuttering when we first brought him in, and a dark wave of amusement broke through my irritation.
I shook my head, my voice raspy.
“She’s gone, isn’t she?” Fernando threw his hands up in frustration.
“What about the tracker you had me slap on her car?
That doesn’t sound like ‘gone.’ You’re going after her.” I lowered my eyes, my mouth setting into a hard line.
No point offering a denial.
Before he could push it further, the glass patio door swung open.
Rico stepped out, breathing heavy enough to send pale blooms of mist into the night air.
“She’s here,” Rico said quietly.
I stiffened.
I didn’t need to ask who “she” was.
Exhaustion washed over me—of all the nights for her to track me down.
Zero bandwidth for her brand of drama tonight.
Dropping the half-smoked cigarette onto the stone tiles, I crushed the ember beneath the heel of my boot.
“Let’s go.” I shoved past Rico and headed inside, taking the stairs two at a time toward the upper level.
Rico and Fernando trailed behind, footfalls steady.
“Where is she?” “The study,” Rico answered, his voice maddeningly calm.
I turned down the right wing of the corridor and pushed the heavy mahogany door open.
She stood at the far end of the room with her back to the entrance, staring out the floor-to-ceiling glass panel at the snowy night.
The study was unchanged, quiet, dimly lit, smelling of leather and old paper.
To the left, the wet bar sat gleaming under soft ambient light.
Christ, I needed a drink more than I needed air.
I shut the door behind me, locking out my brother and Fernando, and walked straight to the decanter.
“What are you doing here?” Cold.
Flat.
Stripped of any warmth.
I didn’t wait for a reply before pouring two fingers of rye and swallowing it in a single burn.
The amber liquid torched my throat, grounding me just enough to turn around.
The click of high heels echoed on marble.
I braced myself, shoulder blades pressing back against the bar.
“I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.” I poured a second glass, keeping it clamped in my grip.
She stopped just behind the beige velvet sofa, the chandelier’s low light catching the gleam of her long, straight black hair and tracing the sharp line of her jaw.
Her green eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
“Baby—” “Don’t.” I cut her off, stepping away from the bar.
I set the glass down on the heavy oak coffee table and gestured toward the sofa.
“Sit.” Gabriela moved with the practiced, effortless grace drilled into her since childhood.
Her long black hair spilled over her shoulders, dark against the pink floral dress that brushed against the upholstery as she sank into the cushions, knees angled, posture pristine.
She set her leather bag on the table and folded her hands tightly in her lap.
“You have thirty seconds to explain why you’re in my house,” I said, leaning back against the couch frame, looking down at her.
“And it better not start with an apology.” Gabriela swallowed hard.
“Grandmother collapsed, Dante.
She’s in the hospital.” The air left my lungs in an instant.
My whole body snapped rigidly.
“What?
“She had an episode a few days ago,” she blurted out.
“Why the hell am I just hearing this now?” The words tore out of me.
“Why didn’t Rico tell me the second he got here?” “Because I asked him not to,” she whispered, looking down at her hands.
Unbelievable.
“Are you insane?” I stepped toward her, fists clenching at my sides.
“You held back news about my grandmother just to force me to see you?” “No!
That’s not what I meant,” she cried out, her voice breaking as she looked up, tears spilling over.
“She’s stable, Dante!
She’s receiving treatment right now.
I just…
I needed to see you.
I knew if I sent a message through your guards, you’d refuse to take my call.” “You don’t gamble with her health to get an audience with me, Gabriela.” “I’ve missed you so much,” she sobbed, rising from the sofa to close the distance.
“You’ve been dodging me for a year.
Ever since that night two months ago, you vanished.
I had to force your perimeter security just to find out which safehouse you were using.” “How bad is she?” I asked softly, forcing my focus back to what mattered.
“Tell me everything the doctors said.” “She collapsed during dinner,” Gabriela rasped, wiping her wet cheeks.
“They stabilized her heart at the regional center.
Your parents are with her now, and they hired a dedicated nurse around the clock.” A slow, controlled breath escaped me.
“Thank God.” “Dante…” She took another step, tone shifting from apologetic to desperate.
Before I could back away, her arms wrapped around my waist from behind, her forehead pressing into the fabric of my shirt.
Warm, soft, suffocating.
“Please.
I miss us.
I know I destroyed everything, but I haven’t slept a full night since.” “Let go.” “I made a mistake,” she wept into my back.
“A terrible, awful mistake.
I was lonely, Dante.
You were gone for months at a time—” “Enough with the manipulations,” I shouted angrily.
I grabbed her wrists, breaking her grip with a hard jerk, and turned around to shove her back.
She stumbled into the edge of the sofa, catching herself with a startled gasp.
“Lonely?” I sneered, cold rage taking over.
“You were lonely, so you jumped on the first dick that offered you comfort?
Is that the excuse we’re going with?” She winced as if slapped.
“It wasn’t like that—” “We grew up together, Gabriela.” Step by step, I pressed forward, pointing right at her face.
“I told you from day one, I don’t share what’s mine.
Not my business, not my family, and sure as hell not my woman.” “I regret it every second of my life!” she screamed back, tears streaming down her throat.
“Regret doesn’t undo what you did,” I said flatly, turning on my heel toward the door.
Tired.
Just utterly tired of this conversation.
“You can stay the night, but I want you off the property by sunrise.” “No!” She rushed forward, heels clicking wildly against the marble.
She grabbed my forearm, throwing her weight against me to drag me to a halt.
“Dante, stop!
You can’t just throw me away!” “Get your hands off me,” I warned, keeping my body stiff.
I could shove her off easily, but I hated putting hands on a woman.
“I won’t!” she sobbed, holding tighter.
“You have to listen to me!” “Gabriela, I swear to God—” “I’m pregnant!” she screamed into the space between us.