Page 46 of Savage Union (Rosso Mafia #1)

Rina

I blink against sunlight streaming through windows Vito must have opened before he left—his side of the bed empty, sheets cool to the touch. He's been gone for hours.

Today I become Donna Rosso.

I drag myself from bed, body aching in ways that remind me of last night's confrontation in the kitchen—Vito's anger, my confession, the explosive intimacy that followed.

The memory sends heat to my cheeks even as dread pools in my chest. He knows everything now.

About Liam, about the arrangement I made before I even knew him.

The penthouse is quiet as I make my way toward the kitchen, following the scent of coffee. Instead of Vito, I find Dante lounging at the counter, scrolling through his phone while munching on a bagel.

"Morning, princess," he greets without looking up. "Sleep well?"

"Where's Vito?" I ask, ignoring his question.

He glances up, his casual demeanor shifting as he takes in my appearance. "Whoa. You look like hell warmed over."

"Thanks." I grab a mug from the cabinet, pouring coffee with hands that aren't quite steady. "That's exactly what a woman wants to hear on her wedding day."

His eyebrows shoot up. "So it's true? Today's the big day?"

"Apparently." I take a sip, the hot liquid scalding my tongue. "Though the groom seems to have disappeared."

"Boss had business to handle." Dante's tone is deliberately casual. "Wedding preparations and... other matters."

"Other matters," I repeat. "Meaning what, exactly?"

He shrugs, taking another bite of his bagel. "Better that you don't know, princess."

I sink onto a stool, suddenly exhausted despite having just woken up. "He knows, Dante."

"Knows what?" His nonchalance doesn't quite reach his eyes, which watch me with newfound wariness.

"About Liam Costello. About my... arrangement with the Irish." I stare into my coffee, as if the dark liquid might offer solutions to the mess I've created. "Everything."

Dante sets down his bagel, all pretense of casualness evaporating. "Shit."

"Yeah."

"How?" he asks, then immediately shakes his head. "Never mind. Stupid question. The boss always knows eventually."

"He overheard me on the phone with Liam last night," I admit, the confession strangely freeing after weeks of secrecy. "I was trying to call it off—to stop whatever the Irish are planning against him."

Dante studies me with surprising intensity. "You were trying to protect him?"

I meet his gaze, tired of hiding. "Yes."

He lets out a low whistle. "So you don't want the boss dead. That's... interesting."

"Is it?"

"Very." He pops the last bite of bagel into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Most people in your position would be cheering for his demise. Stockholm syndrome notwithstanding."

"It's not Stockholm syndrome," I snap, though I've wondered the same myself. "It's... complicated."

"Life usually is." He wipes his hands on a napkin. "So what happened after he discovered your little Irish connection?"

Heat floods my face. "None of your business."

A knowing grin spreads across his face. "Oh, it went that way. Hate-fucking on the kitchen counter kind of 'none of my business,' I'm guessing?"

"How did you—" I cut myself off, mortification washing over me. "The security cameras."

"Don't worry, princess. I fast-forwarded once clothes started coming off." He winks. "Professional courtesy."

I groan, burying my face in my hands. "I've really messed up, Dante."

To my surprise, his tone softens. "Hey, look. We all make mistakes. Some bigger than others, granted, and yours is pretty spectacular—dealing with the Irish? Seriously?"

"I didn't know Vito then," I defend weakly. "I was desperate to escape my father."

"And now?"

"Now I don't know what I am." The same words I spoke to Vito last night. "Except that I'm getting married today, apparently."

Dante nods, surprisingly solemn. "The boss moves fast when necessary. It's how he's stayed alive this long."

"What's going to happen, Dante?" I ask, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. "With the Irish. With Liam."

He studies me for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal. "War, princess. What else?"

"Because of me."

"Nah." He waves a dismissive hand. "This was brewing long before you came along. Costello's old man has wanted to expand into our territory for years. You're just the excuse."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"Wasn't meant to." He reaches over, stealing a sip of my coffee before making a face. "Jesus, how much sugar did you put in this?"

"Three spoons." I pull the mug back. "Get your own."

"Three?" He looks genuinely appalled. "That's offensive to coffee everywhere."

Despite everything, I find my lips twitching toward a smile. "My coffee, my rules."

"Speaking of rules," he says, suddenly business-like. "New security protocols starting today. You don't go anywhere without at least two guards. No exceptions."

"I'm a prisoner again," I mutter.

"No, princess. You're a target." His expression turns serious. "The Irish want you, either as leverage against the boss or as Costello's bride. Either way, your leash just got a lot shorter."

"Lovely metaphor."

"I'm a poet at heart." He grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Seriously though, Rina. Things are about to get ugly. The boss... he doesn't react well to threats against what's his."

The ominous tone sends a chill through me. "And I'm his."

"More than you know." Dante studies me with unexpected perception. "He's never moved this fast for anyone. Never accelerated a wedding, never made himself this vulnerable."

"Vulnerable?" I blink in surprise. "Vito?"

"Even Dons have weak spots." He shrugs. "You've become his. Congrats."

I'm not sure how to process this information—that Vito Rosso, the feared head of La Famiglia, might have a weakness. That I might be it.

"I never wanted any of this," I whisper.

"Yeah, well." Dante stands, stretching. "Welcome to the family business. Nobody ever wants it until they're in it. Then it's blood in, blood out."

"That's comforting."

"I'm not here to comfort you, princess." His tone is gentler than his words. "I'm here to keep you alive. Speaking of which—" He checks his watch. "The stylist will be here in thirty minutes. Hair, makeup, the works. Boss's orders."

"For the wedding," I say, the reality of it settling over me like a physical weight.

I nod numbly, the surreal nature of the situation washing over me. "And Vito? When will he be back?"

"When the preparations are complete." Dante's deliberate vagueness tells me everything I need to know. Vito is dealing with the Irish threat—or at least beginning to.

"Will he be safe?" The question escapes before I can stop it.

Dante's expression softens fractionally. "The boss can take care of himself, Rina. He's been doing it a long time."

But there's something in his eyes—a shadow of concern—that tells me this situation is different. More dangerous, perhaps, than the usual conflicts that arise in their world.

"He trusted you, you know," Dante says suddenly, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "More than anyone I've ever seen."

The past tense isn't lost on me. "And now?"

"Now?" He shrugs. "Now you're going to be his wife. Trust becomes a luxury neither of you can afford."

With that cryptic statement, he pushes away from the counter. "Get yourself together, princess. It's your wedding day."

He leaves me alone in the kitchen—the same kitchen where last night everything changed. Where secrets were exposed, truths acknowledged, futures decided.

Today I become Donna Rosso. Wife to the most dangerous man in New York. Target of the Irish mob. Central figure in a war I never meant to start.

I drain my coffee, the sweetness now cloying on my tongue. Whatever happens next, there's no going back. I made my choices—first with Liam, then with Vito. Now I'll live with the consequences, whatever they may be.

Starting with becoming a bride.