The first time the most feared man in Boston’s baby reached for me, I thought he wanted my necklace. By the third time, the entire restaurant had fallen silent, because Dante Rosselli wasn’t staring at his son anymore. He was staring at me like a secret buried for decades had just walked up to his table.

Morning sunlight streamed through the massive bay windows of the East Wing suite, painting geometric patterns across the pristine white sheets. For a fleeting second, waking up in the luxurious king-sized bed made me feel like I was living a fairy tale. Then reality slammed back into my chest like a physical blow.

I sat up, pulling the thick duvet around my shoulders, and stared at the digital clock on the nightstand: 9:15 AM.

There was a soft, polite knock at the door, followed by the quiet click of a key turning in the lock.

A middle-aged woman with kind, lined eyes and her silver hair tied back in a neat bun entered, pushing a sleek service cart laden with fresh pastries, sliced fruit, steaming coffee, and a pitcher of fresh orange juice.

"Good morning, Miss Alina," she said with a warm, maternal smile that immediately put me somewhat at ease. "I’m Martha, the head housekeeper here. Mr. Rosselli asked me to bring you breakfast."

"Good morning, Martha," I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "Has Dante... has Mr. Rosselli already left?"

"He’s been up since four a.m., Miss," Martha replied, arranging a plate of warm croissants and fruit on the bedside table. "He’s in the tactical room with his captains. There’s been... developments regarding the Moretti family."

My stomach tightened. "Developments? What kind of developments?"

Martha hesitated, her hands smoothing the edge of the duvet. "Nothing for a young lady to worry about, I assure you. Mr. Rosselli handles everything. He’s already given strict instructions that you are not to leave the estate grounds until further notice."

"What?" I bristled, instantly forgetting my fatigue. "I am a prisoner here? I have a life! I have college classes, I have a job—"

"You don't have to worry about rent, tuition, or jobs ever again, child," Martha said gently, her voice carrying a deep, reassuring warmth. "Mr. Rosselli has already taken care of everything. Your university registrar has been... persuaded to grant you an indefinite sabbatical for family health reasons."

"Persuaded?" I let out an incredulous laugh. "You mean threatened."

Martha didn't answer, which was answer enough. She offered a sympathetic smile, poured a cup of coffee, and handed it to me. "Drink up, Alina. Trust me, staying inside these walls is the safest place on earth right now. Dante... well, he’s a formidable man, but there is nothing he won't burn to the ground to keep his family safe."

After Martha left, I showered, dressed in one of the cashmere sweaters provided in the walk-in closet, and paced the room like a caged panther. I couldn't just sit here and wait to be rescued—or worse, wait for an assassin to breach the fortress.

Deciding I needed answers directly from the source, I opened my suite door. To my absolute lack of surprise, two dark-suited guards were stationed on either side of the hallway like stone statues.

"Miss Rosselli," the taller guard on the left nodded respectfully, blocking my path without touching me. "The Boss instructed us to ensure you remain on this floor until he returns."

"I need air," I said, pitching my voice to sound as firm and authoritative as possible—borrowing a fraction of Dante’s icy demeanor. "I am going down to the courtyard to get some coffee. If you try to stop me physically, I will make sure Dante hears about your heavy-handed hospitality."

The guards exchanged a brief, uneasy look. Before they could formulate a response, the private elevator at the end of the hallway chimed softly.

The doors slid open, and Dante stepped out.

He had discarded his suit jacket, his crisp white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the full, intricate sprawl of the dragon tattoo winding around his corded muscles. He looked tired, the faint shadows beneath his hazel-gold eyes hinting at a sleepless night, but the sheer predatory aura radiating from him made the guards instantly snap to attention.

"Alina," Dante said, his deep voice cutting through the tension of the hallway. He dismissed the guards with a subtle flick of his fingers. They vanished down the corridor instantly.

"Were you keeping me under lock and key?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest as I stepped forward to meet him.

"I was keeping you alive," Dante corrected calmly, stopping a few feet away. His gaze swept over me, noting the defiant spark in my eyes with a strange mixture of approval and exasperation. "Did Martha not bring you breakfast?"

"I don't want room service, Dante! I want my life back! I want to know what’s happening! You can't just kidnap me from my restaurant job, drag me into your mafia fortress, and treat me like a piece of fragile porcelain!"

Dante sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with a calloused hand. For a terrifying, intimidating underworld king, he looked remarkably patient with my outburst.

"Come with me," he said quietly.