Sienna POV
Six months later, Don Carlo summoned me to his study.
He poured two glasses of scotch, the crystal clinking softly in the quiet room.
"You are young, Sienna," he said, sliding a glass toward me. "And beautiful. And rich."
I took the glass but didn't drink.
"I am busy, Papa."
"Too busy to be alone," he countered, his voice heavy. "We are old. We will not be here forever. You need a partner. Someone who understands our world. Someone who can protect what you have built."
I swirled the amber liquid, watching the light catch in the alcohol.
I knew this conversation was coming.
In our world, a woman without a husband is a target, no matter how sharp her claws are.
"I will not take a master," I said calmly, meeting his gaze. "I will not be a canary in a gilded cage again."
"No," the Don agreed. "You need a wolf. But a wolf who knows who holds the leash."
He slid a dossier across the mahogany desk.
Dante Cavallaro.
I knew the name.
In our circles, everyone knew the name.
He was a Capo on the rise, controlling the West Side docks with an iron fist.
He was ruthless, efficient, and terrifyingly quiet.
They called him the Dark Don in waiting.
"He approached me," Don Carlo said. "He respects what you did with the logistics firm. He respects loyalty."
I flipped open the folder.
Dante’s photo stared back at me.
Dark eyes, a scar cutting through his eyebrow, and a jawline that looked like it was forged from steel.
He didn't look like a boy playing gangster.
He looked like the consequence of a bad decision.
"He knows about Luca?" I asked, my voice steady.
"He knows Luca is dead," the Don said firmly. "He knows you are a widow."
I closed the folder with a sharp snap.
"Set up the meeting."
We met at a neutral restaurant downtown.
Dante arrived five minutes early.
He stood when I approached.
He was taller than I expected, filling the space with a suffocating, heavy kind of masculinity.
He didn't smile.
"Sienna," he said.
His voice was deep, a rumble that I felt in the floorboards.
"Dante," I replied, keeping my chin high.
"I am not looking for a housewife," he said before we even sat down.
"Good," I said, taking my seat. "Because I am not looking for a boss. I have a board of directors for that."
A flicker of amusement crossed his dark eyes.
"Your father-in-law says you are the steel in that family's spine."
"I do what is necessary."
"I like necessary," he said. "I have territory on the West Side. Good schools for your daughter. A wing for your in-laws. They come with you, correct?"
I was surprised.
Most men would want to dump the baggage of the old couple.
"They are my parents," I said. "Where I go, they go."
Dante nodded slowly.
"Loyalty," he murmured. "A rare currency."
He reached across the table and took my hand.
His grip was firm, calloused, dangerous.
But he didn't squeeze.
He held it like he was weighing a weapon.
"Marry me, Sienna," he said. "We merge the territories. We secure the legacy. And if anyone from your past tries to crawl out of the grave..."
His eyes darkened into an abyss.
"...I will put them back in it."
I looked at this dangerous man.
He offered protection, power, and a partnership.
He offered to be the wall between me and the violent world.
"Yes," I said.
And for the first time in years, I felt safe.
Not because he was nice.
But because he was the monster that other monsters feared.
