**DANTE**
I pull out of Cecilia, the weight of the moment suddenly crashing down on me like a cold wave. My gaze drifts to the door where Anastasia had stood just moments ago, her eyes wide with shock and betrayal. A part of me expected her to scream, to confront me, but instead, she ran.
Cecilia wraps her arms around me, trying to draw me back into the moment, but I find myself unable to reciprocate. I'm suddenly no longer in the mood. I gently push her away, taking a step back as I reach for my pants.
"Anastasia was here," I say, my voice cold and detached as I button my shirt.
Cecilia looks at me, her brows furrowing in confusion. "And so, what? You can't possibly be serious."
I glance at her, then look away, focusing on the cufflinks I'm adjusting. "I mean we need to stop this—at least in the house. It's not right."
"Not right?" She repeats, her voice filled with disbelief. "Since when do you care about what's right, Dante? You've never had a problem with this before."
"I never had a wife before," I respond, my tone clipped. The words taste bitter as they leave my mouth, but it's the truth. Some things just have to change now.
"And you think that makes a difference?" She scoffs, her voice rising with anger. "You don't love her. You've made that clear. So why does it matter?"
"It matters because it's about respect," I say, though the words feel foreign even to me. I don't know why I care. It's not like I have any deep affection for Anastasia. This marriage was never about love; it was a transaction, a business deal. But I wouldn't take this if she did the same thing either, not that I give a fuck though but doing it in the same house that we live in, that's actually too far. I had totally allowed myself to be carried away by Cecilia that I forgot I'm now married.
The last thing I can afford right now is an issue with Aleksandr Vishnev. I still don't trust him, and he'd jump at any chance to use his daughter as an excuse to pull something on me.
Cecilia stands up from the desk, straightening her dress as she glares at me. "So, what now? You're going to play the devoted husband?"
My thing with Cecilia has been going on for almost three years now. It started after I lost my mother and got drunk while hurting. She tried to comfort me, and we ended up having sex. It's been obvious she wants more than just sex, but I can't give that to her. I'm incapable of feelings and all that shit. She realized it was impossible and decided to settle for what she could get. And so, we have been fucking since then. Not that I don't fuck other women though but I fuck her more.
"I'm not playing anything," I reply, irritated by the accusation in her tone. "But this... whatever we have, it can't happen here anymore. We'll meet elsewhere."
She narrows her eyes at me, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "How noble of you, Dante. I'm sure Anastasia will appreciate your newfound sense of morality."
I ignore her biting words and run a hand through my hair. I can't even muster the energy to argue. "I'm calling it a night, Cecilia. You should leave."
She huffs in frustration and turns to storm out of the room, but then she stops. She walks back, grabs the nape of my neck, and kisses me. With a sigh, she pulls away and leaves.
I stand there for a moment, the tension in the air thick and suffocating. Once the door closes behind her, I lean against the desk, letting out a heavy sigh.
I pull out my phone and dial Anastasia's number, pressing the phone to my ear as I wait for her to pick up. It rings, and rings, but she doesn't answer. I grit my teeth, my frustration mounting. Where did she go?
I leave the study and head to the kitchen, where Beatrice and Chiara are still preparing dinner. They look up as I enter, their expressions tense.
"Have you seen Anastasia?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.
The two women exchange nervous glances before Beatrice speaks up. "She was here earlier, but she left. I think she went outside."
"Did she say where she was going?" I press.
"No, sir," Chiara answers, her voice barely above a whisper. "She seemed upset."
I nod curtly and turn away, already reaching for my phone as I walk off. My irritation grows with each unanswered ring, tension tightening in my chest until the call finally connects.
"Alessio, where the hell are you?" I demand, my voice edged with barely restrained anger.
"I'm at my apartment, sir," he answers, clearly taken aback by my tone. "Is something wrong?"
"Anastasia's missing. She's not answering her phone, and no one has any idea where she is," I snap back. "Weren't you supposed to be watching her?"
"I was, sir," Alessio quickly explains. "But she went back to the house earlier, so I assumed my shift was over for the night."
"Well, it's not," I growl, seething with impatience. "Get moving and find her. Now."
"Right away, sir," he says before ending the call.
I slam the phone down onto the couch, fighting to keep a lid on the frustration boiling inside me. Why does she have to make everything so damn difficult? I don't have time for this.
"Get me coffee, Chiara."
Chiara nods and hurried over to get it. My phone buzzes again, and I glance at the screen to see Aleksandr's name flashing. Great. This is the last thing I need right now.
"Hello, Vishnev."
"Hello, Dante."
"May I know why you are calling, Vishnev?" I ask, already at the verge of my patience.
"Oh come on, can I not say hi to my son in law?"
I scoff. If our famiglia were to be like every other normal famiglia, then I would believe that. Aleksandr Vishnev definitely wants something.
"Out with it, Vishnev. What do you want?" I ask him.
Vishnev sighs heavily. "Well, the situation with the Chinese isn't looking promising now that my daughter is married to you. I cut ties with Vincenzo because you assured me you had it under control. I need to be confident that you know what you're doing, Saviano."
Dante exhales slowly, meeting his gaze. "I don't expect you to trust me, Vishnev, but if you've done your research, you'd know that I never go back on my word. I've got it handled. What I need is for you to keep your own organization in check. Vincenzo's nothing but a reckless child. The other two and I will deal with him soon enough." My tone is firm, reassuring. Since both the Chinese and Vishnev's syndicate have been supporting Vincenzo, his withdrawal is likely to cause friction with the Chinese, a conflict we'll need to sidestep.
"Very well," Vishnev replies. "I hope Anastasia hasn't been too much trouble?"
I scoff. He isn't really concerned with how I treat his daughter—he's more interested in whether she's behaving herself. Anastasia's a mafia princess, and this is her fate. Whether she likes it or not, she'll always be a pawn for her family.
"I trust you're treating her well, too," Vishnev adds, almost as an afterthought.
"Of course, Vishnev. There's nothing for you to worry about."
"I handed my daughter over to you because you were able to settle a debt that even I couldn't. I'm still curious about how you managed that. Anyway, I'll leave you to it, Saviano. Have a good day." He ends the call.
I toss my phone onto the table in irritation. "How exhausting."
The phone buzzes again after a short while. I grab it, gritting my teeth. Who could it be now? I glance at the screen—Alessio. I answer without delay. "Did you find her?"
"Yes, boss. She's at the Cavallo strip club with Romero," Alessio reports.
What? Why the hell is she with Romero, and what was he thinking taking her there? I inhale sharply, trying to rein in my temper as I clench my fists. Romero never misses a chance to push my buttons, and this… this is infuriating.
I had sent Romero to the club to get information on who is stealing our women and instead of him to carry out his job properly, he takes Anastasia with him? Romero isn't foolish and so he simply did that to infuriate me. Unbelievable.
"Are you with Romero right now?" I ask, my voice tight with impatience.
There's silence on the other end. Alessio isn't answering.
"Don't push me, Alessio. Give me a fucking answer," I snarl, my frustration flaring. I've got enough problems without adding a wild goose chase to the mix.
"Romero lost track of her inside the club. We're both looking for her now," Alessio finally admits.
What the hell?
"Put Romero on the phone."
"He's not here," Alessio says quickly. "He's searching the other side of the club. But don't worry, boss, we'll find her. There's no need to panic."
His attempt to reassure me only makes me more irritated. Does he really think I'm naive enough to believe everything will be fine? I know how quickly things can go wrong in a place like that. If she falls into the wrong hands, there's no telling how badly this could spiral.
I push back my chair and stand up, a long breath hissing out between my teeth. "I'll handle this myself." I hang up, shoving the phone into my pocket as I stride out of the room, ready to take control before this turns into an even bigger disaster.
~ANASTASIA ~
I stare at the scene unfolding before me, struggling to believe it's real. This place is nothing like anywhere I've ever been. I'm well informed about the mafia's dirty dealings, but witnessing it firsthand is a different level of horror. My stomach churns at the nauseating sights around me—this twisted, dark underworld far worse than anything I could have imagined. Men are forcing themselves on young girls who looked struggled helplessly while other men laughed. Other girls are chained and are getting sold off like they are commodities while other dance around the poles, with sadness written all over their faces.
"Don't worry, I'm just here to carry out a job for Dante," Romero whispers, his tone casual, but it only makes me more scared and confused.
I scoff, unable to hide my disbelief. "How can you stand by and let this happen to these poor women?" My voice trembles with disgust as I take in the horrific scene around us.
Romero chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets, completely unfazed. Of course, he isn't—this is nothing new to him.
He shakes his head. "No, I'm actually here undercover, but I have to play along with their game. Dante got wind of this kind of activity going on, and normally, he wouldn't care—unless his people were involved. And honestly, neither would I." He shrugs, as if it's all just business.
"So, his men went behind his back to run these operations? That's the only reason he's bothering to stop it?" I ask, my voice laced with bitterness.
"Dante's no hero, Anastasia. It's not about saving anyone. Our women have been stolen and sold off, and it's messing with the market and tarnishing Dante's reputation. We've dealt with this kind of thing before, just before he married you, but clearly, some people didn't learn their lesson. I'm here to figure out who's running this garbage and selling our women."
My eyes sweep over the room again, bile rising in my throat. Whether or not Dante wants to put an end to this doesn't change the fact that it's only his reputation and financial losses that matter to him. He doesn't care about these women—they're just commodities in his eyes. He's a cold-hearted bastard, like all the others in this world.
My brother was right: every made man is ruthless. I've been clinging to some foolish hope that there's a good side to them, that maybe even my papa could be different. But time and time again, that hope shatters. How can men like this ever truly love? I was naive to think I could ever have a normal marriage like others do.
"Now, come on, Anna. Stay close to me," Romero orders, breaking me from my thoughts.
I nod numbly and follow him closely as he leads me through the club and into a private suite. The room is empty, and the chaos from outside seems distant, muted by the thick walls but the activities can still be seen through the transparent curtain.
"Sit here," he says, gesturing to a plush chair. "I've got to handle something, but I'll be back soon. After that, I'll take you somewhere more interesting. Just stay put and don't leave that seat. No one will bother you if you stay here, okay?"
I nod again, sinking into the chair, a pit of dread settling in my stomach as he leaves the room.
I watch him lecture me like I'm some clueless child. I let out a tired sigh and nod anyway, not having the energy or desire to argue. As he turns and walks out of the suite, leaving me alone, the muffled sounds of loud music and the cries of women still reach my ears. I clench my fists, trying to block it out, but it's impossible. My heart aches for those women, and I hate seeing them treated like disposable objects. Maybe this is why Damien always pushed me to learn more about the business but I always pretended I didn't want to know, because this is not the life I wanted. Still, there's no escaping it—I have mafia blood in my veins, and that's a reality I can't change.
Leaning back against the chair, my thoughts drift to the unsettling scene Dante dragged me into earlier today. I shudder and shake my head, trying to push the memory away. But before I can fully settle, something catches my attention… or someone. I glance toward the exit of the suite and freeze when I spot a pair of familiar eyes staring back at me. My breath hitches—there's no mistaking that face. It's too beautiful, too unforgettable. It's him again, Luca. Should I go after him? No, no, no. I quickly shake my head. Dealing with one mafia boss is already more than I can handle. I glance back toward the exit, but he's gone, vanished as if he was never there.
I sigh, sinking deeper into the seat, replaying Romero's warnings in my head. But a stubborn voice inside me whispers that I should do what I want. I'm not a child who needs constant babysitting—I can handle myself. As long as I stay out of trouble, no one should bother me, right? Besides, sitting here like a caged bird is driving me crazy. Maybe I should find the bar and get a drink. Some fresh air and a bit of freedom might do me good. Staying put like some lost puppy isn't going to get me anywhere. I stand up and make my way out of the suite.
XOXO