Dante stood in the threshold, his towering frame casting a long, imposing shadow across the carpet. The violent storm in his eyes had been locked away behind a wall of impenetrable ice.

"You stay here tonight," he commanded, his voice a low, authoritative rasp. "Let Katheryn's brother and the rest of the estate know you are under my roof. But don't flatter yourself. I don't touch broken Collaterals. "

He was sending a message to the entire Blackwell empire: I was his property, and touching me meant death. But I knew the beast beneath his tailored suit was starving.

I stood up slowly, feigning a weak wince. The black silk robe I had been given after Dr. Weaver bandaged my wounds slipped off one shoulder. I clutched it to my chest, but not before the fresh white bandages wrapped tightly around my torso were fully visible-along with the faint traces of blood that had already begun to seep through the gauze.

The air in the room instantly thickened. I heard his breath hitch.

The predator was awake. Dante took a slow, heavy step toward me, his dark eyes fixated on my ruined skin. The scent of his bespoke cologne wrapped around me, suffocating and intoxicating. He was going to break his own rule.

I shrank back, retreating to the velvet chaise lounge like a terrified doe. I pulled the silk up, clutching it to my chest, and lowered my eyelashes.

"I know your heart will always belong to Ellen," I whispered, my voice breaking with perfect, tragic fragility. "I would never presume to squeeze into a heart that is already full."

Dante froze mid-step. The name of his dead fiancée struck him like a physical blow. The violent war between his primal lust and his sacred ghost raged in his clenched jaw. He stared at me, his chest heaving, before he let out a harsh, mocking sneer. He turned his broad back to me, walking toward the far side of the penthouse without another word.

Checkmate.

When I woke the next morning, the agonizing fire in my back was gone. Instead, a cooling, medicinal sensation coated my skin. Last night, Dr. Weaver had dressed my wounds while I was still conscious, his swift hands wrapping the bandages I had used to bait Dante. But now, the fresh, icy tingle beneath the gauze told me the ointment had been reapplied while I slept-potent, black-market, and unmistakably ordered by the Don himself. Dante hadn't touched me, but he had commanded my healing in the dark.

Enzo, Dante's most trusted Capo, was waiting by the door. "Signorina Moreno," he said, his tone carrying a newfound, profound respect. "I will escort you to the East Wing."

The East Wing Lounge was bathed in morning light, but the atmosphere was toxic. As I walked in, flawlessly composed, Kelsey stood by the espresso machine. The color drained from her face. She had expected me to be carried out in a body bag.

Nearby, Sasha, the Bratva Collateral, narrowed her eyes. She took in my unblemished face and the haunting resemblance I bore to the ghost that haunted this estate. Pure, calculating hostility flashed in her gaze.

Kelsey recovered quickly, her eyes darting to my bare neck.

"No Claiming Gift?" Kelsey mocked, her voice loud enough for Mia and Chloe to hear. "I suppose surviving the night doesn't mean you actually won the Don's favor. You're still just a debtor's daughter."

She stepped forward, plastering on a sickeningly sweet smile. "But I was so worried about you, sister," she cooed, wrapping her arms around me in a sudden, tight embrace.

Beneath the fabric of my dress, I felt her sharp acrylic nails dig viciously into the exact spot where Katheryn's leather belt had sliced my flesh. She was waiting for me to scream, to break down in agony and become the pathetic joke of the estate.

But Dante's ointment was a miracle of the underworld. I felt the pressure of her nails, but absolutely no pain.

I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink. I simply raised my porcelain cup, took a slow sip of my black coffee, and curved my lips into a chilling, mocking smile right against her ear.

Kelsey pulled back slowly, her eyes wide with absolute, unadulterated panic.

Chapter 5

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