Page 28 of Sold to the Silver Foxes (Forbidden Hearts #6)

DANTE

My phone screams the Ennio Morricone whistle—my custom ringtone for numbers I probably shouldn’t answer without a lawyer present. It’s half past six, the sun is still dozing behind the ridgeline, and frost claws patterned scrollwork across my bedroom windows.

“Moretti,” I answer, voice croaky from too little sleep and too much mulled wine last night.

“Signor Moretti,” Pietro Dumas purrs. “I’ve had an interesting dawn.”

The last time he contacted me unannounced, he casually blackmailed me with boutique security footage of me and Tabitha being…enthusiastic in a dressing room. My pulse spikes. I sit up, kicking the duvet. “Cut the foreplay. What’s wrong?”

“A coordinated intrusion on one of my cold-storage servers. Three nodes—Singapore, Frankfurt, S?o Paulo—attempted simultaneous exfiltration of select media files. All neutralized.”

I pace to the balcony doors, throw them open. Air colder than a Polar-Plunge charity stunt smacks me awake. “Media files meaning…the dressing room footage.”

“Precisely.” He sounds almost bored, which is Pietro-speak for two hairs from murderous . “My analysts traced chatter on a darknet market. The request originated from an IP block leased by Cielo Azul Group.”

Rival brand. Old-money Spanish conglomerate that’s been nipping at Moretti’s heels for years, desperate for a rebrand from dated elegance to edgy decadence. Exposing a Moretti sex scandal would be a nifty way to knock ten percent off our market cap.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “How much damage?”

“None to my servers. But they know something exists, and I do not appreciate this breach.” Pietro sighs like an exasperated headmaster. “If they can’t hack me, they may dangle money at a disgruntled staffer…or at you.”

I snort a laugh. “I have more money than God. Why would I want theirs?”

“And how much of that is liquid cash, Dante?”

I roll my eyes. “It takes me an hour to get my hands on millions in cash. They’re not going to bribe me with that.”

“And what could they bribe you with?”

“This conversation is played out, Pietro. No one is bribing me with a thing. Blackmail, on the other hand, could be a problem for all of us. If they know things between us and Tabitha aren’t exactly legal, then you could be in this mess with us.”

He pauses. “I’ll keep you posted if I have updates.”

That was the most humble I’ve ever heard him. It’s almost eerie. “Noted. Thanks for the early-bird courtesy call.”

“Watch your back, Dante. And pray whatever gutter rats scraped that video never drag your little ballerina through slime, or there will be hell to pay.” The line clicks dead.

For five heartbeats, I stare at the forest. It looks tranquil, dusted with lavender sunrise. Doesn’t matter—because inside my chest, a thunderhead forms, lightning crackling with one thought. Tabitha can’t be humiliated for something I dragged her into.

By a quarter after seven, I’m in the villa’s glass-walled gym, sprinting to nowhere on a treadmill. Adrenaline needs an exit, and pounding rubber is safer than punching walls. Each foot strike hammers out a checklist.

Inform Nico. He’ll get our cybersecurity team on it.

Alert our chief counsel. Draft immediate cease-and-desist templates.

Secure Tabitha emotionally before she hears any rumors.

The last item is the heaviest. She trusted me with her first time, and I won’t let her down. If a rival brand sells that footage to a gossip site, she won’t just be a headline. She’ll be a meme. A joke, for the rest of her life.

Not on my watch.

I shower fast, skip shaving, and find her in the sunroom off the east corridor, wrapped in an oversized sweatshirt, watching chickadees flit around the feeding station.

She turns, coffee mug cradled in both hands.

Her hair’s a morning tangle, freckles glowing in winter sun. Beautiful, breakable. Mine to protect.

“Morning, Daredevil,” she greets. “You’re up early for a night owl.”

I sit opposite, hands clasped. “Need to tell you something ugly. And I need your forgiveness in advance.”

Her brows knit. “Is this about Pietro’s surprise visit yesterday? Nico said?—”

I interrupt gently. “No. Different threat.” I outline Pietro’s call and leave out the phrases darknet and gutter rats , but I don’t sugar-coat the reality of the situation.

She listens without flinching. When I finish, she sets her mug down calmly. “Okay. Step one, Nico locks the digital gates. Step two, your lawyers load the trebuchets. Step three, we drink bourbon if it leaks anyway.” Then, a gentle shrug and a small smile.

I blink. Her poise rattles me. “You’re…remarkably chill about this.”

“The biggest thing in my life right now is that doctors are going to drill into my little sister’s spinal cord,” she says softly. “Compared to that, strangers seeing me enjoying you is nothing.”

I have no words. It’s not that I forgot about Erin’s surgery, but…I pushed it to the back of my mind because I can’t do anything about it, so I hadn’t thought of it until now. This, as awful as it could be, is nothing compared to that.

Still, I’ll take care of it. I slide off the chair, kneel in front of her, hands on her knees. “I’m sorry I invited this risk into your life.”

She strokes my hair back, smile rueful. “I volunteered, remember?”

“Because I waved money.”

“I could have said no.”

Not really. Not with her sister’s life on the line. We don’t say it, but the guilt gnaws at me all the same. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be?”

“My family doesn’t forgive like you. I’m used to grudges.”

She smiles again. “Grudges can be useful if they remind you to be wary of someone untrustworthy. But I trust you, Dante. You didn’t do this to me. We did this together. What’s done is done. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

I take the first full breath since Pietro’s call and sit next to her. “I keep screwing up. My family chalks it up to Dante being Dante . I guess I’m just used to getting yelled at when things go wrong.”

She huffs through her nose. “Maybe stop acting like a screwup.”

That lands with surprising gentleness, not judgment. She continues, “When I was younger, my whole world was dance. Dancing made me feel alive.”

“That’s how I feel when I take risks.”

She nods. “School bored me. Boys weren’t even on my radar. I only ever wanted to dance. My parents loved that I found my passion, but hated that my grades were subpar. I was grounded all the time. I went from school to dance class to home; that was it until my grades improved.” She smirks.

“But that didn’t work?”

“It was exactly what I wanted. Hell, I would have skipped school completely if I had the chance. None of that mattered to me. Only movement. I was the only child and the family screwup for years.”

I might not be an only child, but family screwup? Yep. “So, what changed?”

“Erin was born.” She pauses, staring at nothing.

“She was so different from me. I tried to teach her how to move, how to dance. But she was too little for that, and when she was older, it didn’t get better.

She didn’t have the feet or the coordination.

It was like asking a water buffalo to compose a symphony. ”

I snort a laugh. “That bad?”

“My sister has four left feet.” Tabitha pauses, thinking. “Eventually, I realized she wasn’t the one who had to change. It was me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t just a dancer anymore. I was a big sister.

When I realized that, I wanted to be more than just the dancer in the family.

I taught her to read Green Eggs and Ham at two, and over the years, I understood that was where her talent was.

Books, learning. And I wanted to be someone she was proud to call sister, so I locked in on my studies.

I boosted my grades so my brilliant kid sister wouldn’t be embarrassed by me. ”

The thought makes me grin. “She’s really that smart?”

“She hides it because she doesn’t want to intimidate others, but she read every book she could get her hands on in the library when she was a little kid.

She learns online by herself since the tumor forces her back and forth from public to homeschool, but that just means she’ll graduate soon if the surgery goes well…

” Her smile turns wistful when she looks at me.

“Taking an interest in what she loved fixed my tunnel vision. It might help you too.”

“I don’t know how to fake being interested in spreadsheets and the best cigars.”

She giggles at that. “Your brothers treat you like a wild card because you lean into it. Show them you can be more.”

My throat tightens. “You think I’m capable of more?”

She cups my jaw. “The roller coaster. You saw what I needed and you helped me get it. You’re a lot deeper than you give yourself credit for, Dante.”

It’s rare for me to be embarrassed by praise, but somehow, I manage. “So we fight this leak. Together.”

“Together,” she echoes. Then she tilts her head. “Also, maybe keep your pants zipped in public boutiques. Just a thought.”

I laugh—a real belly laugh. The thunderhead in my chest starts to break apart. “Thanks for the talk. I have a lot to think about, so I’m gonna head out.”

“Happy to help.”

I kiss the top of her head and leave. If I don’t, I’m going to get her naked, and when she’s naked, I stop thinking. This is too important for distractions.

I make a list of the changes I need to make, starting with my brothers.

Tabitha’s right—I should take more of an interest in what they like.

Maybe it’ll round me out. The list includes birthday parties without the threat of broken bones or tarnished reputations, but I’m not sure how you throw a birthday party without that.

Attend one night of highbrow entertainment per month. Maybe I’ll develop a taste for it if I try. Nico seems to like it. Sal? I think he just tolerates it. Except for opera—he likes the opera.

Most importantly, figure out how to ask Tabitha to stay after the contract is over.

I’ll have to talk to Nico and Sal, but I’m mostly sure they’re on board with the idea. Even if they’re not, I can be persuasive. The end of the contract is coming, and I want this settled.

Settled . That word pricks at my independence. For a long time, I bristled against the idea of settling down. I’m only thirty-eight. Practically a teenager. I have years of bad choices ahead of me.

And now I’m considering giving that up for a woman.

I huff a laugh at myself and set the tablet aside. Outside, the snowstorm has slowed to a gentle fall. The world is white-noised, a blank page waiting.

For the first time in years, the daredevil thrill isn’t on a cliff but in a living room, wearing an oversized sweatshirt, her future pulsing brighter than any BASE-jumping strobe.

I think of Pietro’s warnings, and they mean almost nothing to me.

I’ll skydive without a parachute before letting her crash.

I’m done screwing up. With her by my side, I can do anything.