Chapter 9 Caught in the Lion's Den

Alina's pulse pounded in her ears.

Dante's grip on her wrist was firm-not painful, but unshakable. His presence was suffocating, his body close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him.

She forced herself to meet his gaze. His dark eyes glowed in the dim light, filled with something dangerous, something unreadable.

"I told you," he murmured, voice smooth as silk. "Disobedience has consequences."

Alina refused to back down. "And I told you-I'm not your prisoner."

Dante tilted his head slightly, as if studying her. "No? Then why are you sneaking around my house like a little thief?"

Alina clenched her jaw. "I wanted to see the place I'm expected to call home."

His smirk was slow, dangerous. "And you thought you'd do that in the middle of the night? With stolen keys?"

Her breath hitched. So he had noticed.

Of course he had.

Dante wasn't just a mafia boss-he was a man who thrived on control. On knowing everything.

His grip didn't loosen as he studied her face, as if waiting for something.

A crack. A plea. Fear.

But Alina wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she lifted her chin. "Are you going to lock me up again?"

Dante let out a low chuckle. "Oh, no, wife." His fingers slid from her wrist to her palm, intertwining their hands in a mockery of intimacy. "If you want to explore my world so badly-then let me give you a tour."

Her stomach twisted.

She had expected anger. Expected him to drag her back to her room, maybe even threaten her again.

But this?

This was more dangerous.

"Come," he ordered, tugging her forward. "Let me show you what it means to belong to a Valenti."

The Heart of His Empire

Dante led her through the darkened halls, past the elegant luxury of the upper floors, down a narrow corridor lined with thick wooden doors.

Alina's heart pounded as they reached the end. Dante pulled open a heavy door and stepped inside, dragging her with him.

The room was unlike anything she had seen before.

It was an office, but not in the traditional sense. There were no windows, no warmth-just a massive mahogany desk, leather chairs, and walls lined with shelves full of files, locked safes, and weapons.

A command center.

This was where Dante ruled.

He let go of her hand and stepped behind the desk, leaning against it casually as he watched her take it all in.

"This," he said smoothly, "is where decisions are made. Where power shifts. Where lives are taken-or spared."

Alina swallowed hard.

Dante gestured toward the shelves. "Every file in this room holds something valuable-names, debts, weaknesses." His gaze flicked back to her. "Yours included."

Her blood turned to ice.

He smirked at her reaction. "You thought I wouldn't do my research?"

She clenched her fists. "And what did your research tell you?"

Dante's smirk faded. "That you're nothing special. A pawn in a game far bigger than you understand."

Alina's stomach twisted. "Then why marry me?"

Dante's jaw tensed. For the first time, there was a flicker of something behind his eyes. Something real.

Something angry.

"You already know why."

Alina held his stare. "Because of your sister."

The air in the room thickened.

A storm passed through his gaze, dark and full of blame.

She had hit a nerve.

"You cost me everything," he said, his voice quieter now, but laced with rage. "And now you think you can just walk through my house, my world, without consequence?"

Alina's breath caught, but she refused to look away.

"I didn't kill her," she said, her voice steady.

Dante didn't move. Didn't blink.

Then-he laughed. A slow, humorless chuckle.

"Tell me something, Alina," he murmured, pushing off the desk and closing the space between them in a single step.

She sucked in a sharp breath as he lifted his hand, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.

"If you didn't kill her..." His fingers ghosted over her cheek.

"Then who did?"