Page 62 of Sold to the Silver Foxes

DANTE

My phone screamsthe 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, São 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 fortwo 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 mugcradled 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?—”

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