Page 51 of Fire and Silk

I sighed.

And just as the sound left my mouth, his body jerked upright, like a switch had been thrown in his spine.

“Where is she?” he shouted, eyes wild. “Where is she?”

I pushed off the doorframe and stepped forward, voice level but lazily clipped.

“Relax. She’s fine. No thanks to you.”

He dragged in a breath and held his chest. His hand trembled slightly, but he masked it well—like a man used to holding himself together with stitches and grit.

“Are you sure?”

“The doctor says there’s no damage. No torn ligaments. Just fear.” I paused, tilting my head as I watched him process that. “Psychological, mostly. She blacked out before the body could do real harm. Lucky girl.”

Mico’s legs swung over the edge of the bed. He planted his feet wide and stood up with the kind of focus that meant every breath still hurt, but he didn’t care.

“I’m taking her home,” he said. “And this madness ends today.”

He turned toward the door.

“Then I take it,” I said casually, “you already know about her inheritance.”

He stopped.

“You didn’t come in here asking questions. You didn’t demand explanations. You walked through my gates with a storm in your chest and not a shred of surprise. Which means you know who I am.”

He turned slowly, his mouth grim.

“Severo Dantès. Capofamiglia of the Dante line. Smuggler. Arms dealer. One of the founding architects of the Gilded Syndicate. You broke twelve trade treaties in the southern corridor. You had a magistrate murdered in his own house and called it art.”

My grin widened.

“You’ve been doing your homework.”

“I could get you arrested,” he said, jaw tight.

I took a few steps forward and motioned to the walls. “But have not. And that’s how I know you know.”

He didn’t respond.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said instead. “I’m taking her away.”

I spread my hands. “I’m a fair man, Salviati. So, I’ll work a deal with you.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“I want her,” I said simply. “I don’t know what she means to you. I don’t really care. But for me, she’s worth everything—my pride, my legacy, my name.”

His fists clenched.

“If you think I’ll let her be part of your sick games,” he snapped, “think again.”

I didn’t flinch. “I want to marry her. I’ll give her a happy, safe life. Everything she ever wanted. No debts. No danger.”

“There’s no need for that kind of generosity,” Mico bit out. “She doesn’t need your ill-gotten wealth. Or your dirty power.”

I stepped closer, letting my tone drop a note, calm and matter-of-fact.