Page 17 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
But no child will ever be touched on my watch.
No girl who should be at school will be sold like she’s nothing but meat.
As I pull onto the road home, the first streaks of pale blue begin to creep into the sky.
The city is stirring behind me, slow and hungry, and even after everything that has played out tonight, Gianna Rossi's face haunts me, her defiant eyes and mocking smile etched into my memory.
No matter how many women I take to bed, none of them can erase her from my thoughts.
Back at the Salvatore estate, I hand my keys to the valet and stride through the marble foyer, the polished floors reflecting the crystal chandeliers above.
A butler approaches, his demeanor as stiff as his starched collar. "Signore Dante, your brother awaits you in the study."
I suppress a sigh, knowing that Luca's summons are rarely trivial.
The study is a sanctum of dark wood and leather, the air thick with the scent of aged cigars and old money.
Luca sits behind a massive mahogany desk, his posture rigid, eyes sharp.
"Dante," he begins, his voice devoid of warmth. "Tomorrow, you will meet with the Rossis."
I raise an eyebrow, feigning surprise.
"The Rossis? I thought that was your thing. Or are you finally beginning to trust me?"
Luca's brow lifts.
"You'll assess their operations, ensure they're upholding their end of the bargain."
I lean back in the leather chair, a smirk playing on my lips.
"And if they're not?"
Luca's expression remains impassive.
"Then we cut them loose."
It wouldn’t do to show just how much the merethoughtof seeing Gianna again sharpens my focus, and makes anticipation curl hot and tight in my gut.
So, I clench my fists behind my back, jaw loose, posture lazy, and let my voice stay smooth. "Understood."
Luca dismisses me with a nod.
I turn and stride out, closing the door softly behind me.
Taking the hallway, I step out into the balcony, taking slow breaths.
Inside, I’m already unraveling the possibilities.
Tomorrow, Gianna Rossi will sit across from me in some godforsaken conference room, pretending this is all routine.
It won’t be.
I’m not coming to audit numbers.
I’m coming to test the edge of her composure, to see how close I can press without her flinching, to find out if that mouth tastes as sharp as it speaks.
She wants control.
