Chapter 4 The Game Beneath the Vows

*Smoke and Mirrors (Aria's POV)*

The morning light did little to soften the sharp edges of Aria's thoughts.

Dante's words from last night played on repeat, carving deeper every time. *I never wanted to destroy you.* It was the kind of confession that left you breathless, that made you question which parts of the war were real and which were wounds you wore for protection.

But Aria couldn't afford to get swept up in heat and stolen kisses. Not when the Moretti house had secrets tucked into every stone.

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown number. Just one line:

*"You're not safe. Watch your back, Principessa."*

She stiffened. Only one person used that name for her-Leo. Her childhood friend turned fugitive. Someone the world thought was dead... or worse.

She deleted the message instantly, nerves prickling under her skin. She hadn't heard from Leo in years-not since her father's assassination. Why now?

Unless...

Her mind raced. What if someone inside this house was playing both sides?

Dante's Web (Dante's POV)*

Dante stood in the armory-hidden beneath the estate-inspecting blueprints and black-market arms reports. The Solari chess piece had done its job. Word was spreading. Other families were realigning.

But one name kept reappearing: *Leo Romano*.

Dante narrowed his eyes at the report. Thought dead. Now possibly resurfacing. And worse connected to Aria.

He clenched his jaw. If Leo was alive and reaching for Aria... it wasn't just politics anymore. It was personal.

"Track every digital fingerprint tied to this alias," he told his tech chief. "If he so much as breathes near her, I want to know."

*Because no one takes what's mine.*

The Dinner That Burns (Dual POV)*

The Moretti estate held a private dinner that evening-just Dante, Aria, and Dante's most trusted inner circle. Candles flickered between gold-rimmed glasses, the room dressed in elegance and knives beneath the tablecloth.

Aria played the part of the poised wife-smiling where expected, sipping wine, never too much. But she could feel it-the silence between her and Dante had shifted. Thicker. Heated. Distrust laced with desire.

Midway through, he leaned close. "You're hiding something."

"So are you," she whispered back, not missing a beat.

He studied her, then said softly, "Don't make me choose between protecting you and controlling you."

She met his gaze. "That's not a threat you get to make, Moretti."

One of the men at the table a cousin chuckled. "She's got bite."

"She always did," Dante replied, eyes still locked on hers.

*Twist of Knives*

Later that night, Aria slipped out to the west wing-an old wing of the estate, mostly abandoned. She followed her instincts, retracing steps her mother once told her about. That's when she saw it.

A ledger. Hidden in the base of a statue. Codes. Routes. And one name written in clear ink:

*Leo Romano - Asset or Liability?*

Her blood ran cold.

He was alive. And someone in the Moretti family knew. Possibly even protecting him.

Footsteps.

She shoved the papers back and fled, heart hammering in her throat.

She didn't make it far.

Dante stepped out from the shadows.

He held up the same ledger.

"You weren't the only one searching tonight."

Fire in the Vault (Dual POV)*

The room crackled with silence. Only the soft hum of hidden lights and the faint rise and fall of their breathing filled the void between them.

Dante held the ledger like it weighed a thousand pounds. Not with effort-but with the truth it carried.

Aria stood rooted, her chest heaving slightly. "How long have you known?"

Dante's voice was low. "Long enough to suspect betrayal. Not long enough to name the traitor."

Her jaw tightened. "You think I'm the traitor."

"No," he said immediately. "But I think someone wants me to believe you are."

His words sliced her open. She wasn't used to anyone giving her the benefit of the doubt. Least of all the devil she was married to.

"You should've told me," she murmured, stepping closer.

Dante arched a brow. "You first."

Something inside her cracked. "Leo was my best friend. We grew up together. After my father died, he disappeared. I thought... I thought maybe he ran. Maybe he was scared."

Dante's voice dropped, dangerous. "Or maybe he knew something that could get him killed."

A pause stretched between them.

Then Dante said what she hadn't dared to think aloud: "What if your father's death wasn't a Solari hit, Aria? What if it came from inside your own house?"

Her stomach twisted. "My uncle."

Dante nodded. "And Leo saw it happen."

Her knees nearly gave. She gripped the edge of the table behind her, fury rising beneath the fear. "Then why the hell would Leo wait this long?"

Dante took a step closer. "That's what we're going to find out. Together."

Their eyes locked, a quiet understanding passing between them-sharper than any oath.

Then his hand brushed her cheek.

The touch was fleeting. Reverent. Dangerous.

"You keep looking at me like I'm the villain in your story," he whispered. "But sometimes the monster is the only one willing to burn everything down to save you."

And then he walked away leaving her heart hammering, her pulse screaming, and the truth unraveling all around her.

*The Next Move*

The next day, Dante summoned his second-in-command, Luca, to the underground conference room.

"Accelerate the plan," he said. "We expose the traitor. But quietly. I want whispers before bullets."

"And Aria?" Luca asked carefully.

Dante stared out the narrow window. "She stays close. If Leo's alive, he'll try to contact her again."

"And if he does?"

Dante's voice was ice. "Then he walks into the lion's den by choice."

The Spark Rekindles (Aria's POV)*

That night, Aria returned to her room to find a dress draped over the bed. Midnight blue. Backless. With a note: *Dinner. No lies tonight. – D

She wore it, though she hated herself for how much she wanted to see his expression.

Dante didn't disappoint.

When she entered the private dining room, his gaze slid over her with practiced control but something in his jaw ticked. His fingers curled slightly around the glass of whiskey in his hand.

They ate in silence at first. Then, halfway through the meal, she asked, "If this marriage wasn't arranged, would you have chosen me?"

Dante looked up.

"No," he said.

She swallowed hard. "Why?"

"Because I wouldn't have trusted myself with you."

His honesty was worse than cruelty.

She stood to leave, but his voice caught her. "But I would've chased you anyway."

She turned slowly.

"And what would you have done if you caught me?" she asked. Dante rose from his seat, walking toward her with slow, deliberate steps. "Ruined you. Worshipped you. Broken the world and stitched it back together around you."

He stopped inches from her.

"Still might."

The moment stretched, trembling with tension.

But neither moved.

Because fire and frost don't touch without consequence.