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Her hair’s a wild mess over her shoulder. Her lips are still slightly parted from kissing me. And her eyes… they’re watching me like I’m something rare. Like I’m not a man built from ruin.

“You always watch people like that?” I murmur, my voice low, roughened by sleep and her touch.

“Only the dangerous ones,” she says, smirking.

God, she’s trouble.

I reach for her without thinking, hand sliding behind her neck as I pull her closer, until she’s half draped over me. Her thigh slips over mine, her skin melts into mine. And it hits me how fucking easy it is to forget the rest of the world exists with her like this.

Skin to skin. Breath to breath.

“You keep kissing me like that, bambina,” I murmur into her hair, “and I’ll cancel my whole fucking day.”

She laughs softly and unbothered.

“Mm, tempting,” she says, voice muffled against my neck.

My hand slides down the curve of her back, slow and possessive, securing her to me because I want her close...always fucking close.

“Don’t tempt me, mio cara,” I whisper, my mouth at her ear now. “The world could fall apart outside that door, and I still wouldn’t leave this bed, not if you’re in it.”

And I wouldn’t.

Because this, she , is the only thing in this life that doesn’t feel like ruin.

Her laugh is still warm against my throat when I turn her face to mine and kiss her, slow, deep, the kind of kiss that screams I’m not ready to leave this bed, not now, not ever.

She melts into it, and when I roll on top of her, her arms wind around my neck, lips parting with a soft hum that makes my restraint hang by a fucking thread.

But eventually, I pull back, resting my forehead against hers.

“I should get up,” I mutter.

She groans and wraps her legs around my waist, locking me against her. “No, you shouldn’t.”

“I’ve got a meeting.”

“So, cancel it.”

I smirk. “You like testing me this early?”

Her fingers lazily trail over my beard, “Only because I know you like it.”

I lean in, kiss the corner of her mouth, then her jaw. “I’ll be gone a few hours, tops.”

“I really need to get up,” I murmur, though I don’t move.

She lets out a soft groan, burying her face in the crook of my neck. “No, you really don’t.”

I chuckle, low and lazy. “You planning on holding me hostage in my own bed?”

“I might,” she says, lips brushing against my skin. “You’re warm. And very comfortable.”

“You sound surprised.”

She smiles against my jaw, and I feel it more than see it. Her leg slides over mine, locking us together, and for a moment, I consider saying fuck it and staying right here.

But I’ve got a meeting in an hour. One that can’t wait.

I shift slightly, untangling us just enough to glance at the clock on the bedside table.

She watches me, then sighs like I’ve already ruined everything. “You’re actually leaving?”

“Just for a few hours, bambina,” I say, brushing a hand through her hair. “I’ll be back before you can think about obsessing over me.”

She huffs, dramatic and adorable. “That’s optimistic of you.”

I lean down and kiss her again, then pull back just far enough to see her face. “What would you do if I stayed?”

Her eyes spark with mischief. “Keep you naked. Feed you croissants. Maybe handcuff you to the bed, just to make sure.”

I laugh, actually laugh, and kiss her again, because Christ, I never expected someone like her to exist in my world.

She huffs, dramatic and half-smiling, her nose scrunching in that way that kills me every time. “That’s a little optimistic, don’t you think?”

I grin, brushing my thumb along the curve of her jaw.

“No,” I murmur, dipping to kiss the corner of her mouth. “I think you’re already obsessed.”

She laughs quietly, then lifts her gaze to mine, teasing but sharp. “This coming from you, bestia?” There’s a spark in her eyes. “You’re the one who watches me like I hung the stars… and then guards them like you’re afraid someone else might touch the light.”

Fuck.

I stare at her a moment, the smirk slipping from my lips. Because she’s not wrong. She sees too much. Always has.

“Maybe I am obsessed,” I admit, voice low. “You think I’d let just anyone wake me up with kisses and a pout?”

She shakes her head, smiling prettily and rolls me onto my back. “No. You’d growl at them and break their jaw.”

I hum, dragging her closer until she’s tangled fully on top of me. Her skin is warm, her weight grounding. “Exactly.”

She rests her chin on her hand, watching me from just inches away. The teasing quiets in her expression, replaced by something softer.

“Still think you should stay.”

I kiss the tip of her nose. “I would. But unlike you, I actually have places to be.”

That earns me a pout, followed by an eye roll. “And whose fault is that? You’re the one who got me blacklisted so I can’t find a job, remember?” Her words hang in the air a second too long. “Thanks to you I’m stuck in that manor, staring at the same walls, trying not to lose my mind from boredom.”

I ease back just enough to see her face. “You want something to do?”

She nods. “I don’t just want it, Ares. I need it . I feel like I’m just floating around the manor like a ghost.”

There’s a pause. One beat. Then another.

And that’s when I say it.

“I might have something for you.” She narrows her eyes, instantly suspicious.

“What kind of something?”

“There’s an opening at my hotel,” I say carefully. “Front desk. Good hours. Decent pay. You’d be around people, doing actual work. No ties to the family’s dirt.”

Her brows lift with intrigue. “And this isn’t just a convenient way to keep me somewhere you can watch me?”

I don’t answer that.

Because it is. But it’s also more than that.

It’s the only way I know to give her a little freedom without risking her safety or someone taking her from me.

“It’s a real job,” I say simply. “You’d be earning just as you wanted.”

Her expression softens. “You’d be you,” I add, quieter now. “Just… a little safer.”

She studies me for a moment, then says, “Do I get a uniform?”

I raise a brow. “What kind of uniform are we talking about?”

Her lips twitch. “One you’ll hate. Obviously.”

I shake my head and kiss her again slowly, still smiling.

“Keep talking,” I murmur, my lips brushing the corner of hers, “and I’ll put you in a sexy maid’s outfit. Make you clean around here while I sit back and watch.”

Her laughter spills out, soft, breathy, muffled against my mouth. She presses a kiss to my jaw, then bites down lightly on my shoulder just to be a brat.

“Perv,” she whispers, giggling as her fingers slide down my stomach.

“Only for you,” I grin, grabbing her waist and flipping her beneath me in one smooth movement. Her laughter turns into a squeal before I cover her mouth with mine again.

“Non sai cosa mi fai, bambina.” I whisper.

You don’t know what you do to me, bambina.

By the time I leave the villa, the softness Jordyn gave me is already bleeding out of my system. It lingers on my skin, in my mouth, in the ghost of her lips still burning against my neck, but it doesn’t reach my hands. And that’s what I need right now. Cold hands and a clear mind.

Because whoever whispered presto into Jordyn’s phone wasn’t just playing games.

They were declaring intent. And I don’t respond to intent with patience. I respond with precision.

The SUV is waiting at the bottom of the hill, matte black, windows tinted. Dante’s already inside, arms spread across the back seat like he’s been waiting for this his whole life. Probably has.

“Talk,” I say as I slide in.

“We pinged the burner again,” Dante starts. “Still off, but we’ve got two possible sources from the last tower it bounced off. One’s a Moretti safehouse in the hills. The other’s a warehouse near the port; old trade point Romano used before everything went to hell.”

I nod once. “We hit both. Same night. No warning.”

Dante’s mouth curls. “Clean or messy?”

I look out the window, watching the trees blur by as we drive.

“Start clean,” I murmur. “If they lie, burn it.”

He grins. “Got it.”

I tap my thumb once against the ring on my finger. Luciano's symbol. A legacy I never wanted.

But now? Now it serves me.

I turn to Dante.

“Get eyes on the Mancini’s too. I don’t trust how quiet they’ve been since the alliance talks started. If they’re playing both sides, I want to know before I’m seated at the same table.”

He nods. “Already on it.”

The silence stretches for a beat, thick with the shift in energy. The softness is gone. The Reaper is awake again...and this time, he’s hunting with purpose.

The SUV hums low beneath us, wheels eating up the road as we descend into the valley. Dante’s scrolling through something on his burner, but I can feel it, that shift in his focus. The tension. The unasked question.

It comes a few minutes later.

“So,” he says, casual in tone but not in meaning, “what’s the plan with the Mancini girl?”

I don’t look at him.

“You gonna play the good little fiancé?” I roll my eyes.

“It’s not a fucking engagement.”

Dante huffs out a breath, leaning his head against the seat. “Could’ve fooled me. Luciano’s spinning it like a unity deal. Alliance solidified through marriage, just like the old days. Public peace for private control.”

I stay silent. Because he’s not wrong. And because I haven’t told anyone, not even him, that the real reason Luciano’s forcing my hand isn’t diplomacy.

It’s Jordyn.

He wants her away from me. Hidden behind distance and titles and a ring that belongs to someone else.

“You gonna go through with it?” Dante presses, quieter this time.

I turn my head, finally meeting his eyes.

“I’ll do what needs to be done.”

He watches me for a beat. “That a yes?”

“It’s a placeholder,” I murmur flatly. “I give them what they want long enough to dismantle everything from the inside. And when the timing’s right…”

I trail off.

Because if I say it out loud, it becomes real. But Dante finishes it for me anyway. “You burn it down.”

I don’t nod. I don’t have to, because he already knows.

Dante doesn’t speak for a while after that. He knows when to shut up, which is more than I can say for most people.

But then, just as the skyline of Messina creeps into view through the tinted glass, he speaks again.

Quieter this time. “And her?”

I don’t look at him. I don’t need to ask who he means. “Jordyn.”

Her name lands like a hard blow under my ribs.

Dante leans forward, elbows on his knees, voice low. “What happens to her if you go through with this?”

I stare out the window, the weight of her warmth still ghosting against my skin from this morning. Her laugh. Her kiss. The way she whispered stay like it was a promise I had no business accepting.

“She’s not part of this,” I tell him.

He scoffs. “Bullshit. She’s the only part of this that actually matters to you.”

I cut him a look, sharp enough to kill.

He holds up a hand. “I’m not judging. Just trying to figure out how the hell you’re gonna walk two lines without falling off both.”

My hands curl in a fist against my thigh. Because I’ve been asking myself the same question.

How do I protect her… without losing her?

How do I tear apart the world I was raised to rule without dragging her down with me? How do I keep her close, without giving Luciano another excuse to tear her from me? Or worse, make her the price of my defiance.

“She stays out of it,” I say again, quieter this time.

But even as I say it, I know it’s a fucking lie.

Because if she was ever out of it, I wouldn’t be this afraid.

And I wouldn’t already be planning how to destroy the marriage before it even begins.

Silence settles between us again, but it doesn’t last.

Dante exhales, tapping his fingers against his knee, then speaks like he’s thinking out loud, but every word lands with purpose.

“You know Giana’s not the type of woman who shares, right?”

I don’t move.

Don’t even blink.

“She grew up being told she’d marry power,” he continues. “That she’d sit at the head of a table one day beside a man who commands fear. She’s not some pretty doll you can stick in a corner and forget.”

I drag my gaze away from the window and lock it on him.

His eyes meet mine without flinching.

“She’ll want the ring. The title. Your time. Your bed. A Russo heir ”

The air sharpens.

A slow heat curls through my chest, not from desire, but from rage.

Dante holds up his hands. “I’m just saying, if you think you can juggle both, keep Jordyn close while playing house with Giana, you’re not just lighting a fuse, you’re handing her the match.”

I lean forward, my voice like gravel. “I’m not juggling anything.”

He raises a brow. “No?”

I stare him down, jaw tight. “There is no fucking choice. Jordyn’s mine, and I would rather take a bullet than make her the other woman.”

The words leave me before I can stop them, before I can make them sound like anything other than a goddamn vow.

Dante nods slowly, almost like he’s been waiting to hear me say it out loud.

Then he leans back in his seat and mutters, “Then you better move fast, fratello… because if you don’t end this marriage before it starts, Giana won’t just come for the crown.” He pauses, gaze deadly serious.

“She’ll come for the girl.”