Dante's Law

"Francesca, you're late."

With strength in every word, the low voice slithered through the dark chamber, piercing and cold. Despite having heard the voice only a few times, Francesca was familiar with it. It was owned by Dante Bianchi, the dreaded guy in the city. The boss of the mafia who had puppet-like control over everything and everyone.

Francesca, though, was no puppet. With a steely voice and a lifted chin, she answered, "I had other things to do." Her dark eyes met his. Dante surveyed her with a disconcerting serenity as he sat behind a big mahogany desk.

Francesca felt her heartbeat pick up at the tiniest trace of a smile. To him, this was all a game, and she was not going to play along. She hadn't given a damn, even if baking flour was still stuck to her hands. She had no intention of entertaining him.

"You'd be smart to not keep me waiting." With a forward lean, he radiated dominance with every step, his fitted suit catching the dim light in the room.

She shot back, "Maybe you should tell my father that." "Not me, he is the one who owes you money."

Dante's gaze grew gloomy. "Your dad isn't present. Buy, you are. This implies that you are in charge of making the loan payment."

"Is that how it operates?" Despite having a racing heart, Francesca said with sarcasm in her voice. "A blood debt?"

He was on his feet, his massive frame filling the gap between them. "That's right, a blood debt"

Francesca took a deep breath. Often taking on more than he could handle, her father had taken out a loan to maintain their family bakery. Dante had given him a half-year to repay it. Francesca was standing in the lion's den because her father was too afraid to acknowledge his own shortcomings after that deadline passed last week.

"You know I can't just pull that kind of money out of thin air." With her arms crossed, her fiery spirit unwavering. "You really believe that threatening me will change that?"

Dante's voice grew deadly and his eyes narrowed. "Francesca, you're not understanding me. I'm not threatening you."

A shiver ran up her back. "So, what do you want?"

"I want what is rightfully mine." He approached her slowly, his gaze fixed on hers the entire time. "And you are mine until that debt is settled."

She tensed up. "I'm not something you own."

A menacing smile curled Dante's lips. "At this moment, you are. You will work for me until your father gets his debt settled."

Francesca became more defiant. "Work for you? What precisely will I be doing? Cleaning your estate? Running errands for your gang members?"

"No," he said with a cold, dangerously seductive voice. "You will always be by my side, day and night. I need someone like you for different purposes."

"Huh" She gasped for air. It seemed like a prison sentence, but she had no doubt what he meant. However, there was a glint in his gaze that went beyond simple hatred.

Pointing her finger at him angrily, she said, "I'm not some pawn you can use to keep my father in line."

Amused, Dante arched an eyebrow. "Francesca, you are more than just a pawn. You're an explosive. I'm not going to release that just now."

Her hands became tight. "If you believe you can break me-"

Suddenly he said softly but menacingly. "I do not wish to break you. I wish to subdue you."

Her temper erupted, but behind the surface there was something else now, something eerily similar to intrigue. Did she not detest him? Dante Bianchi exuded violence, corruption, and dominance in every way. However, there was something inscrutable about the way he gazed at her. Something that gave her the impression that she was perched on the brink of a precipice.

Her voice was harsh as she murmured, "You'll never tame me."

With a twist of his head, Dante looked into her dark eyes. "That's what makes this interesting."

Despite her desire to yell and smash something, she maintained her cool.

Rather than backing off, she moved closer to him, startling even herself. "You don't frighten me," she declared, her tone indignant.

His smile returned, this time one that made her skin crawl-a slow, menacing smile. "It's right to be afraid, Francesca. However, I appreciate that you're not. And I respect your courage"

She growled, "I don't need your respect."

Before he responded, Dante studied her for a bit as his eyes stayed on her face. "Alright. In my world, you'll need more than just respect to survive."

"Whoosh!" Francesca inhaled deeply, her thoughts whirling. What option did she have? Her dad wasn't a brave man. He was never going to face Dante directly. And even if they sold the bakery, they would still be unable to pay off the debt. However, this? She knows she has to handle this situation with strength and wisdom.

Finally, she said, "Fine." "I'll be here till the debt is paid off. I'm not your servant, though. I'm not your toy, either."

Something evil flared in Dante's eyes. "Not at all. None of those apply to you. You'll soon discover what applies to you."

Her heartbeat quickened as she forcefully gulped. "How about my dad?" "What happens to him?"

"If you follow the rules, he'll be left alone."

"Rules?" Her tone was tinged with contempt. "Which rules?"

His lips were just inches from her ear as he leaned in close. "My rules."

She felt a shiver down her spine, and she loathed herself for it. Her heart was hammering against her ribs. There was something else in the air between them that made her want to hate him, to detest everything about him. Something dangerous. Something exciting.

Francesca straightened her back, attempting to get her mind back in check. "Dante, I will not let you control me."

"We'll see." His tone was solemn, deep, and full of promise.

Desperate to get out of the stuffy, oppressive atmosphere in the room, she pivoted on her heel and marched toward the door. But his voice stopped her cold, right before she got to the exit. "Francesca!" "One more thing." She froze, afraid to look back. Softly but sternly, Dante threatened, "your father's debt will be paid in blood if you ever tried to flee."

Her heart dropped, and she clenched her fists. Without a word, she opened the door and stepped into the hall, her mind spinning, her chest tight.

But even as she walked away, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.

And she wasn't sure if she was ready for it.

Francesca's modest room had a narrow window that let in the early light. Though there weren't any metal bars here, she still felt like she could hear the unmistakable clink of being locked up. Dante's home had become her prison. She pulled her hair back into a loose bun and tried not to think about the knot in her gut. She had been coerced into this arrangement over a week ago, and every day since then had tested her patience. Until now, Dante had only given her the responsibility of following him around. He never gave an explanation for his preference to keep her near at all times.

And she was getting a little scared of that.

A knock on the door interrupted her train of thought. Francesca tensed up, her heart thumping in her throat. Expecting to see one of Dante's men, she threw open the door and was met by a young woman's gentle, hazel eyes.

"Hello." The woman smiled slightly, unsurely. "My name is Elena."

Francesca gave her head a shake. Before now, she had encountered only one lady at Dante's estate, and she didn't appear so... kind. Elena stood out from the chilly, masculine vibe that pervaded the mansion thanks to her lovely honey-brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders.

"Francesca," she hesitantly said while crossing her arms. "What is it that you want?"

Even when Elena's smile faltered, she went inside. "Dante asked me to take care of you. I am his sister."

"His sister?"

Dante had a sister? "He never mentioned you." Francesca responded, her tone a little harsher than she meant to,

Elena gave an unfazed shrug. "He wouldn't. Dante isn't one to talk about family. or, more accurately, have small conversation."

Francesca examined her closely. Elena seemed gentle and almost innocent, but she wasn't sure if she could put her trust in that. There could be no one so innocent around Dante.

"Exactly what does 'looking after me' mean?" With a tone full of mistrust, Francesca questioned.

Elena dismissively waved a hand. "I guess mostly making sure you're comfy. You realize that you are not a prisoner."

Francesca sneered. "Could have fooled me."

Elena's countenance abruptly turned serious as her eyes grew somewhat darker. "You may think of it as a cage, but Dante is protecting you."

"Protecting me?" Francesca laughed a hollow chuckle. "From whom? Before he made the decision to include me in his world, everything in my life was great."

Elena's mouth formed a thin line. "You don't understand the whole situation. Dante is not a bad person."

"Yeah! Saint Dante"

Before Elena could respond, there was a knock on the door. Francesca's heart fell when she saw one of Dante's men, Vince, as the door opened. His broad shoulders and great stature belied his constant expression of indifference, as if there was nothing in the world that could ever truly impress him. He was second in command to Dante, and judging by the expression on his face, this wasn't a friendly visit. "You should go downstairs, Dante wants you now." Vince spoke bluntly, hardly acknowledging Elena before turning his gaze to Francesca.

Her defiance never far from the surface, Francesca whispered under her breath, "Can't wait to see what today's torture is."

Vince arched an eyebrow but remained silent. Rather, he moved aside, indicating that she should go before him. With a frightened glance at Elena, Francesca grudgingly walked through the door. The tension in the air increased as they proceeded down the opulent hallway, Francesca could feel its weight bearing down on her. As they arrived at the study, Vince pushed the thick oak doors open. As usual, Dante was sitting behind his desk inside, but he wasn't by himself this time. Francesca had never seen the man standing next to him before.

The man appeared to belong in a boardroom instead of a mafia cave; he was tall and thin, with his black hair styled back and his eyes icy and calculating. His well-tailored suit and shiny shoes exuded affluence and power-power that could be dangerous.

Dante looked up, his normal expression unreadable. "This is Lorenzo Rossi, Francesca."

Lorenzo briefly glanced at her, his eyes locked on hers. "My pleasure," he uttered, his tone as silky as oil.

With her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene, Francesca remained silent. This man had an unsettling quality about him. Something that makes her uncomfortable.

Not wanting to display any sign of weakness, she crossed her arms and questioned, "what's going on?"

Dante leaned back in his chair, his jaw tensing slightly. "Lorenzo is here to discuss a business arrangement."

"Business?" Francesca furrowed her brow. "What's the connection between that and me?"

Lorenzo interrupted, his gaze firmly fixed on her, saying, "Everything." "As you can see, Dante is obligated to you as a favor."

Francesca felt her blood freeze. "Pardon me?"

Dante spoke in a quiet, controlled tone. "Lorenzo is a business associate." "A few years ago, he assisted me in a difficult situation, and now he is taking advantage of that favor."

Lorenzo had a sly smile. "And lucky for me Francesca, that favor involves you."

Her stomach twisted. "What am I missing?"

Putting his hands nonchalantly in his pockets, Lorenzo took a step forward. "The debt owed by your father has garnered interest." "What Dante owes on that favor now interests more people than simply himself." "To put it simply, I'm making sure the odds are still in my favor."

Something flared in Dante's eyes, like anger? Feeling remorse? It was difficult to determine. But Lorenzo went on before he could reply. His voice was gentle but full of hate as he whispered, "I don't want to hurt you, Francesca." "However, if your father is unable to pay, I might need to look into alternative solutions."

Isabella felt her heart race in her chest. She wasn't gullible. She understood Lorenzo's meaning perfectly. Her father had been associated with individuals even more dangerous than Dante. Individuals who are in cohorts with Lorenzo.

Dante jerked to his feet and cast a chilly look at Lorenzo. "Lorenzo, you came here to make a point. You've succeeded. Now leave this premises."

Lorenzo laughed, obviously relishing the suspense. But Francesca could see the hate in his eyes.

"Dante, you're always so dramatic. Alright,I'll leave. However, I'll be back before you know it." And with that, Lorenzo pivoted on his heel and disappeared, leaving a spooky trail of silence behind him.

Francesca turned to confront Dante, a simmering rage beneath her exterior. "You're the one putting me in danger, even though you claimed you brought me here to protect me."

Clenching his jaw, Dante remained silent. Rather, he approached her with caution and a quiet voice. "You to understand, Francesca. This is not a game. You are ignorant of the forces at work."

Her voice increasing, her fists clenched at her sides. "Then tell me how it works! Stop using me as a pawn."

Dante's gaze met hers. "You are not a pawn. You are the queen on the chess board. However, that does not make you untouchable."

Francesca's breath caught in her throat, but the door burst open once again before she could react. Elena burst in, her voice quivering, her face pallid. "They're coming."

Dante's face became serious. "Who?"

"Rossi's men," Elena muttered. "They're here already."

The sound of heavy footfall reverberated through the compound, evoking the atmosphere of approaching thunder. Francesca was afraid, and Elena's pallid expression showed that thiswas not a joke.

The men from Rossi had shown up, and they were not there to strike up conversation. In the space of a few seconds, Dante's stance transformed from calm commander to calculating tactician. Taking it from the back of the chair, he draped his jacket over his large shoulders. "Take Francesca to the East wing, Elena." Dante gave the order in a voice as firm as iron.

Francesca's heart palpitated. She detested being dependent on others and feeling like a liability. "I refuse to flee to the East wing while you are waging war here."

Dante darted his gaze in her direction, his eyes darker than she had ever seen. "This is not up for discussion."

Elena moved forward and attempted to take Francesca's arm, but Francesca pulled away. "I'm not some helpless girl! If Lorenzo thinks he can intimidate me into submitting, then___"

"He's not trying to intimidate you," Dante interrupted, his voice sinister and low. "He's attempting to convey a message. Staying down here will make you an easy target."

Her heart clenched in her chest, but she would not give up. "Then explain the true situation to me. Dante, why are they here? Why is Lorenzo concerned about my father's debt to such an extent?"

Dante paused for a minute, as if he was considering telling her or not. "Money is not a concern for Lorenzo. He's trying to reach me by using your father's debt. He's in the mood for war."

"War?" Francesca felt her weight shift on the floor. "Over what?"

Dante angrily remarked, dismissing Francesca's question, "Elena, get her out of here now."

Francesca lost all semblance of patience. "No! Until you tell me the truth, I won't move."

Dante's jaw clenched so hard she was afraid he would break a tooth. Burning with frustration, but also something deeper, his gaze remained riveted on her.

"Elena, go stay with Ma and the kids." Dante said, his voice hard, "I will see to this."

After a moment of hesitation during which her eyes flicked back and forth between Dante and Francesca, Elena grudgingly nodded and retreated from the room, her face plastered with concern.

Even though Francesca would never acknowledge it as she held her ground, her hands trembled a little. As Dante drew nearer to her, the environment became tense and electrified. Everything else seemed to be obscured by his massive frame.

"You want the truth?" His voice was low yet powerful as he growled. "Alright. In the not too distant past, the Rossi family held the most power in the city after my father died. Everything was run by them until I arrived."

Francesca caught her breath. "You're telling me this is about territory?"

Dante's gaze grew strained. "There is more to it than that. It has to do with control. Power." "You are being used by Lorenzo as a prop to get to me. He knows that I won't allow anything to happen to you."

"Why? Why not? Francesca moved toward him and challenged him. "You don't really know me."

Suddenly Dante's hand shot out, he seized her wrist and pulled her hard against him, bringing his lips down on hers. The kiss was hot and brief, but it sent a shockwave of fire through her body.

"Because I promised," he replied in a low, growling voice. "And I always keep my promise."

Her heartbeat became faster and her head cleare. "A promise to my dad?"

Dante's thumb brushed the side of her face as his gaze grew gloomy. "To myself."

The door flung open before Francesca could reply, and Vince barged in with a grimace on his face. "They're at the gate, Dante."

Dante grasped Francesca's wrist tightly before releasing it and backing away, his icy control mask sliding back into place. "Get the men ready. Nobody enters. Vince nodded and, before turning and walking out the door, his gaze darted briefly to Francesca.

Dante returned his focus to Francesca. "You're heading up. Right now, to the East wing."

She reaffirmed her stance, her voice trembling from adrenaline, "I'm not going anywhere. If Lorenzo intends to use me as a pawn, like you said. I'll be exactly who he thinks I am if I'm hiding."

Dante shook his head, a look of frustration, or perhaps fear, flashing in his eyes. "You're naive, Francesca" "You don't know how dangerous he is."

"And you fail to realize that I am not scared of him," she shot back, drawing nearer to him. "Neither am I afraid of you."

With his gaze fixed on hers, Dante's jaw tightened. "Fear is not the issue here. Surviving is."

"I've endured worse," she muttered, her tone firm and uncompromising. "You have no idea what it's like to be poor and hear negative comments from others your entire life. I refuse to feel inferior to some wealthy thug."

Dante looked at her, his eyes briefly melting before they snapped back to their hardened state. "Francesca, you're strong. But strength does not stop bullets."

The distinct sound of gunfire sounded outside before she could counter. Dante's eyes grew cold, and her heart shot up into her throat. He took her arm and drew her in the direction of the door without saying another word.

"I'm getting you out of here," he murmured with clenched teeth. The entrance doors blew inward, sending splinters of wood flying over the marble floor before they could get halfway down the hall. With their weapons out, a group of men dressed in black suits barged in, and Lorenzo was in the middle, grinning triumphantly and chillingly.

"All right," Lorenzo growled, fixing Dante with an expression of satisfaction. "I notice that you're still holding onto the belief that you can keep her safe."

Dante put himself in between Lorenzo and Francesca, his body a steel wall. "Lorenzo, don't you think your decision to come back is premature?"

Lorenzo grinned more broadly. "Do you think I'm here to bargain? You're in no position to make demands, Dante."

Francesca felt her heart pounding in her chest. The Rossi men dispersed across the space, obstructing any possibility of escape. This was an execution, not a negotiation. Francesca spit out, "I'm not going anywhere with you," even though her hands were shaking.

Lorenzo turned to face her, and his eyes glistened. "Oh, Francesca, you're not understanding. I didn't come here to take you. I'm only here to watch."

Her stomach fell. "To watch what?" Lorenzo's grin deepened. "Watch Dante's empire burn to the ground"

Just then, there was an audible burst of gunshots outside, and then there was the distinct crackle of fire spreading. Francesca's eyes grew wide with fear as the mansion started to smell like smoke. Not only were Lorenzo's men attacking, but they were also lighting the entire property on fire.

Calculating, Dante's gaze darted to the entrance, but there was nowhere to go. Now that Lorenzo's men had them surrounded, the mansion itself was turning into a death trap. Lorenzo gave Dante one more look before stepping back with a triumphant, icy smile. "Dante, I hope you're prepared to lose everything."

And with that, Dante and Francesca found themselves standing in the middle of a blazing universe as Lorenzo turned and vanished into the darkness. As Francesca saw the flames licking at the walls' borders and getting closer, her throat constricted. She trembled and said, "Dante."

Dante, though, was not observing the flames. His gaze was fixed on hers. "We're not done yet," he uttered in a steady, quiet voice that was brimming with passion. "Not by a long shot."