Mafia boss yells at waitress, but she replies with three words that make the entire restaurant freeze in shock. Before we start, I love seeing this community grow. Feel free to introduce yourself below. The crystal chandeliers of Valentino’s cast golden light across white tablecloths and polished silverware, creating an atmosphere of oldworld elegance that screamed exclusivity. This wasn’t the kind of place where ordinary people dined.
The restaurant’s clientele consisted of politicians, business tycoons, and those who operated in the shadows of legitimate society. Tonight, like every Tuesday night for the past 3 months, the corner booth remained reserved for a man whose very name made seasoned criminals lower their voices.
Dante Moretti sat with his back to the wall, a position that allowed him to survey the entire dining room. At 32, he commanded an empire built on loyalty, fear, and an iron fist that controlled half the city’s underground operations. His perfectly tailored black suit cost more than most people’s monthly salary, and the Patek Phipe watch on his wrist could have paid someone’s rent for a year.
Dark hair sllicked back with precision, a neat stubble beard that added to his dangerous appeal, and eyes that could freeze a man’s blood with a single glance. Dante Moretti was power personified. Mr. Moretti, your usual. The head waiter approached with practice deference, his hands slightly trembling despite his professional composure. Dante didn’t look up from his phone.
You know what I want, Antonio? Of course, sir. Right away. Antonio retreated quickly, relief evident in his posture. Around the restaurant, conversations continued in hush tones, but everyone was acutely aware of the man in the corner booth. They’d all heard the stories. Families who crossed the Morettes simply disappeared from the city.
Business owners who refused protection found their establishments burned to the ground. Though nothing was ever proven, of course. Dante Moretti didn’t need to raise his voice or make threats. His reputation did the work for him. Sarah Mitchell pushed through the kitchen swinging doors, balancing three plates with the practiced ease of someone who’d been waiting tables since she was 18.
At 25, she was saving every penny for her final year of nursing school, working double shifts at Valentino’s because the tips were better than anywhere else in the city. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and her red apron was spotless despite the dinner rush.
Table 7 needs more wine, she told Marco the sumelier before heading toward the main dining room. Sarah, “Wait.” Marco’s voice held a warning note, but she was already gone. She’d noticed the corner booth was occupied again. The mysterious man who always sat alone, always ordered the same thing, and always left a tip that was larger than the bill itself.
Sarah had served him twice before, and both times he’d barely acknowledged her existence beyond a curt nod. She didn’t know who he was. Didn’t care to know. In her world, people were people, regardless of their bank accounts or social status. You’re also buo, Mr. Moretti. Antonio placed the dish with reverent care.
Chef Michelle prepared it personally. Dante’s phone buzzed. a text from his consiliary about a shipment issue at the docks. His jaw tightened as he read the details. Someone was stealing from him. Someone was stupid enough to skim off the top and think he wouldn’t notice. He cut into the ve with more force than necessary. His mind already planning how to handle the situation.
The Moretti family didn’t tolerate theft. They dealt with problems permanently. Sarah approached table 12 with their entre when she heard raised voices from the corner. She turned to see the man in the expensive suit glaring at his plate, his expression thunderous. This is unacceptable. Dante’s voice carried across the suddenly silent restaurant. I asked for the meat medium rare.
This is practically raw. Antonio rushed over his face pale. Mr. Moretti, I apologize profusely. I’ll have Chef Michelle. I don’t care what Michelle does. Dante pushed the plate away with disgust. This is incompetence. Pure incompetence. The entire restaurant had stopped eating. Waiters froze midstep. Even the piano player’s hands hesitated over the keys.
Sarah watched the scene unfold, her jaw tightening. She’d seen the plate when Antonio carried it out. The meat had been cooked perfectly. she’d stake her reputation on it. This wasn’t about the food. This was about a man who was used to everyone cowering at his feet. Before she could stop herself, Sarah walked toward the corner booth, her red apron bright against the muted restaurant decor. Sarah, no. Antonio’s whispered warning went unheeded.
She stopped beside Dante’s table, her blue eyes meeting his dark ones without a trace of fear. Up close, she could see he was younger than she’d thought, with a face that would have been handsome if not for the cold cruelty in his expression.
A gold chain glinted at his open collar, and she noticed a subtle tattoo on his wrist. Some kind of family crest. “Is there a problem, sir?” Her voice was calm, professional. Dante looked up at her, surprised by the interruption. Most people avoided his gaze. This waitress, this girl with her neat ponytail and simple uniform, was staring directly at him, waiting for an answer.
“The problem,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “Is that I’m paying for quality and receiving garbage. The meat is cooked exactly as you ordered it.” Sarah didn’t break eye contact. I saw it myself before Antonio brought it out. The restaurant held its collective breath. No one spoke to Dante Moretti this way. No one.
Are you telling me I’m wrong? Dante stood slowly, his 6’3 frame towering over her. Men twice his size had stepped back from that posture. Grown men who’d seen combat had lowered their eyes under that stare. Sarah tilted her head, considering him with an expression that suggested she was analyzing a particularly interesting specimen. Then she spoke three words that would change both their lives forever. You don’t own me.
The silence that followed was absolute. Someone’s fork clattered against china, the sound explosive in the quiet. Antonio looked like he might faint. The other diners stared in horrified fascination, waiting for the explosion that was sure to come. Dante Moretti, the man who controlled an empire through fear, the man who made hardened criminals nervous, found himself speechless.
No one had ever spoken to him like this. Not in years. Not since he’d built his reputation on the ashes of those who’ challenged him. And this girl, this waitress with her defiant eyes and straight spine, didn’t even know who he was. For the first time in a decade, Dante Moretti felt something other than cold calculation.
He felt fascination. What’s your name? His voice had changed, losing its sharp edge. Sarah. She didn’t add sir or show any difference. and your meat is medium rare, exactly as ordered. But if you’d like it cooked differently, I’d be happy to ask Chef Michelle to prepare another plate.” The ghost of a smile touched Dante’s lips. “That won’t be necessary.
” He sat back down, his eyes never leaving her face. “You’re right. The meat is fine.” The restaurant seemed to exhale collectively. Sarah nodded once. “Is there anything else you need?” No. Dante’s gaze intensified. But I’m sure I’ll think of something.
She turned to walk away, her heart pounding in her chest now that the adrenaline was fading. What had she just done? Who was this man that the entire restaurant trembled at his presence? Sarah. His voice stopped her. She turned back. You work here often? Five nights a week. Good. Something flickered in his eyes. something that looked almost like warmth. Very good.
As Sarah returned to the kitchen, she could feel his gaze following her across the room. Behind the kitchen doors, Marco grabbed her arm. Do you have any idea who that is? His voice shook. That’s Dante Moretti. The Dante Moretti. He runs half the city’s underground. People disappear when they cross him, Sarah. They just vanish. Sarah felt ice water flood her veins. I didn’t know. Well, now you do.
Marco’s expression was somewhere between admiration and terror. And either you just committed career suicide or he shook his head. I don’t know what you just did. In the dining room, Dante cut into his meat. A genuine smile playing at his lips. In his world, people lied, schemed, and told him what they thought he wanted to hear.
But this girl, this brave, foolish girl, had looked him in the eye and refused to back down. His phone buzzed again. The problem at the docks, the theft, the usual business that required his attention. But for the first time in years, Dante Moretti’s mind was somewhere else entirely.
It was on a waitress with light brown hair and fearless blue eyes who’d spoken three words that no one else would dare say to his face. You don’t own me? No, he thought, watching her move through the restaurant with practiced grace. Not yet. 3 days had passed since the incident at Valentino’s, and Sarah couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. She’d chocked it up to paranoia after Marco’s dire warnings about Dante Moretti. The internet had been no help.
Searching his name brought up vague mentions in business articles and a few society photos, but nothing concrete. Nothing that confirmed the terrifying reputation Marco had described. She pushed through the restaurant’s entrance for her evening shift, trying to focus on anything other than the corner booth that had been reserved again for tonight. The same booth, the same time.
Antonio had pulled her aside that morning, his expression grave. Mister Moretti requested that you be his server tonight. Antonio’s hands had trembled as he spoke. Sarah, please, whatever happens, just be polite. Professional. Don’t. He’d struggled for words. Don’t challenge him again.
Now, as she tied her red apron and checked her appearance in the staff room mirror, Sarah felt her stomach twist with apprehension. She’d spent three nights researching nursing techniques and pediatric care, trying to push away thoughts of dark eyes and a dangerous smile. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. The way he’d looked at her after those three words, like she was a puzzle he intended to solve.
The dinner service started normally enough. Sarah took orders, delivered meals, and accepted compliments on the food with practiced grace. But at 8:00 exactly, the atmosphere shifted. Dante Moretti walked through the front entrance like he owned not just the restaurant, but the entire city block. Two men flanked him. Bodyguards, Sarah realized, noting the telltale bulges under their jackets that suggested weapons she desperately hoped were just for show.
Dante himself wore another impeccably tailored suit. This one charcoal gray with a black shirt underneath. No tie. The gold chain at his throat caught the light as he moved. His eyes found her immediately across the crowded room, and something in his expression made her breath catch.
Antonio practically ran to greet him, ushering him to the corner booth with the kind of deference usually reserved for royalty. The bodyguards took up positions nearby, their presence making other diners shift uncomfortably in their seats. Sarah. Antonio appeared at her elbow, his voice tight. Table one.
She nodded, gathering her composure like armor. When she approached the corner booth, Dante was studying the menu he certainly had memorized by now. Good evening, Mr. Moretti. Professional, polite, exactly what Antonio had begged for. Sarah. The way he said her name, like he’d been thinking about it, tasting it, made her pulse quicken. I was hoping you’d be here tonight.
I work five nights a week, as I mentioned. Yes. His lips curved slightly. You did mention that. An awkward silence stretched between them. Sarah waited, pen poised over her notepad. Aren’t you going to ask if I want my usual? Dante’s tone held amusement. I assumed you’d tell me if you wanted something different. You assume a lot about me.
I assume nothing about you, Mr. Moretti. I don’t know you. His smile widened. No, you don’t. But you’re not afraid to stand up to me anyway. Being afraid and being respectful are different things. Sarah met his gaze steadily. I’ll show respect to anyone who shows it to me first.
Dante leaned back in the booth, studying her with an intensity that made her feel exposed. Do you know who I am now? I imagine your co-workers have filled you in. I know you’re important enough that everyone in this restaurant treats you like you could destroy their lives with a word. And does that frighten you? Sarah considered the question honestly. It concerns me.
Power without accountability usually does. A laugh, genuine and surprised, escaped him. You’re remarkable. Truly remarkable. I’m a nursing student who waits tables to pay tuition. There’s nothing remarkable about that. You don’t see yourself clearly. Dante’s expression grew serious. Most people look at me and see a title, a reputation, a threat.
You look at me and see a man who was rude about his dinner. Weren’t you? I was having a bad day. He paused. That’s not an excuse. It’s an explanation. Apology accepted. Sarah’s tone softened slightly. Now, what would you like to eat? Have dinner with me? The request hung in the air between them. Sarah blinked, certain she’d misheard.
I’m working. After your shift, then Mr. Moretti. Dante. His voice was quiet but firm. When you’re not on the clock, call me Dante. That wouldn’t be appropriate. Why not? Sarah struggled for an answer that didn’t sound like the truth. That every instinct screamed this man was dangerous. That getting involved with someone like him was career suicide at best and actually lethal at worst.
Because you’re a customer and I’m staff, there are boundaries. Boundaries. Dante repeated the word like it was foreign to him. I’ve built my entire life on breaking boundaries that other people accept as absolute. That’s not the recommendation you think it is. Another laugh, this one tinged with something darker. No, I suppose it isn’t.
He studied her for a long moment. What if I told you I can’t stop thinking about you? That for 3 days I’ve conducted business meetings, handled problems, made decisions that affect hundreds of people, and through it all, I kept seeing your face. Sarah’s heart hammered against her ribs.
I’d say you don’t know me well enough for that to be true. Then let me know you. Dante’s intensity was almost physical. One dinner, one conversation. If you still want nothing to do with me after that, I’ll never ask again. And if I say no right now, his expression shuddered slightly. Then I’ll respect that decision and order my usual meal like nothing happened. She should say no.
Every rational part of her brain screamed to say no. But there was something in his eyes, a vulnerability that seemed completely at odds with the dangerous man everyone described. Like he was asking for something he’d forgotten how to want. One dinner, Sarah heard herself say, after my shift somewhere public. Dante’s smile could have melted steel. Anywhere you want. The cafe two blocks from here, 11:00.
I’ll be there. He handed her the menu without looking at it. And for now, I’ll have the Oso Buco, medium rare. Sarah couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “Of course, Mr. Moretti.” “Dante,” he corrected softly. “Dante,” she repeated and watched something fierce and possessive flash across his face at the sound of his name on her lips.
As Sarah walked back to the kitchen, she could feel the weight of every eye in the restaurant following her. What had she just agreed to? Marco would think she’d lost her mind. Antonio would probably have a heart attack. But when she glanced back just once, Dante was watching her with an expression that looked almost like hope, and that more than anything terrified her. The rest of her shift passed in a blur.
Sarah went through the motions, taking orders, delivering food, smiling at customers, while her mind raced with second thoughts. At 10:45, she changed out of her uniform in the staff room, her hands shaking slightly as she buttoned her simple blue dress. “You’re really doing this.” Marco stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and disbelief.
One coffee, one conversation with a man who makes senators nervous. Marco crossed his arms. Sarah, I’ve worked here for 8 years. I’ve seen things, heard things. The Moretti family doesn’t play by normal rules. I know. Do you? Because this isn’t some bad boy with a motorcycle. Sarah, this is He lowered his voice. There are rumors about what happens to people who cross his organization about the methods they use to maintain control.
He’s not going to hurt me over coffee. Marco, maybe not directly, but his world. Marco shook his head. That world destroys people just by proximity. Sarah finished with her buttons, meeting her friend’s worried gaze in the mirror. I appreciate your concern, really, but I can handle myself. That’s what worries me. Marco sighed.
You’re strong enough to stand up to him, but maybe not smart enough to run away. The words followed her out of the restaurant and down the two blocks to Jeppe’s Cafe, a 24-hour spot popular with students and night shift workers. Through the wide windows, she could see Dante already seated in a corner booth, somehow making the humble cafe look like a high-end establishment just by his presence.
His bodyguards waited outside, she noted. At least he’d respected her request for public. Sarah pushed through the door, and Dante stood immediately, the gesture old-fashioned and oddly charming. “You came?” Relief colored his voice. “I said I would.” Sarah slid into the booth across from him. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.
Up close, without the dramatic lighting of Valentino’s, she could see details she’d missed before. Faint scars on his knuckles, a tiny scar above his left eyebrow, shadows under his eyes that suggested sleep didn’t come easily. Coffee? Dante gestured to the server hovering nervously nearby. Please, black. They sat in silence until the coffee arrived. Both seemingly unsure how to begin this conversation they’d insisted on having.
“Why me?” Sarah finally asked. “You could have anyone. Women who understand your world who’d jump at the chance to be with someone like you. Someone like me?” Dante’s expression hardened slightly. “You mean someone who operates outside the law? Someone whose family name is synonymous with organized crime?” I didn’t say that, but you thought it.
Marco told you, didn’t he, about who the Morettes are? Sarah didn’t deny it. He told me to be careful, that you’re dangerous. And are you being careful? I’m here, aren’t I? She wrapped her hands around the coffee mug. That’s either incredibly brave or monumentally stupid. Brave, Dante said quietly. Definitely brave. You haven’t answered my question.
Why me? He was quiet for a long moment, his fingers tracing the rim of his untouched coffee cup. When he spoke, his voice was different, softer, with less of the commanding edge she’d heard at the restaurant. Do you know what it’s like to live in a world where everyone lies to you? Where every conversation is calculated, every smile is fake, every compliment is designed to gain favor or avoid punishment. Dante’s dark eyes met hers.
I’ve lived that way since I was 22 years old. 10 years of people telling me what they think I want to hear instead of the truth. That sounds lonely. It is. The admission seemed to cost him something. And then you, this waitress I’ve never met, you looked me in the eye and refused to back down. You didn’t care that I was angry.
Didn’t care about my reputation or my family name. You just stood your ground. You were being unreasonable about the food. A genuine laugh escaped him. I was completely unreasonable. I was angry about business and took it out on your chef’s perfectly cooked ve. See, the truth isn’t so hard. It is when you’ve forgotten how to tell it.
Dante leaned forward, his intensity returning. For 3 days, I couldn’t stop thinking about those three words. You don’t own me. Nobody talks to me like that, Sarah. Nobody dares. Maybe someone should have a long time ago. Maybe. His smile was sad. My father used to say that absolute power corrupts absolutely.
I always thought he was weak for believing that. Now I wonder if he was just wise enough to see the cage before it closed. Sarah felt her defensive walls cracking slightly. This wasn’t the dangerous crime Lord Marco had described. This was a man who seemed tired of his own power, exhausted by the role he’d been born into.
How did you end up in this life? The question escaped before she could stop it. Dante’s expression shuddered. That’s a longer conversation. One I’m not sure you’re ready for. Try me. He studied her face like he was trying to determine how much truth she could handle. My father ran the Moretti organization before me. When I was 22, rivals made a move against us.
My father, he didn’t survive the power struggle that followed. I’m sorry. Don’t be. He knew the risks. Dante’s voice was flat, emotionless in the way of someone who’d learned to bury pain deep. I inherited his empire, his enemies, and his reputation. I was given a choice.
Lead the family or watch it crumble while vultures picked at the remains. That’s not much of a choice. No, he agreed. It wasn’t. Sarah found herself leaning forward, drawn into his story despite her better judgment. Do you ever regret it? The life you chose? Every day. The answer was immediate and raw. But regret doesn’t change reality.
I’ve done things. He stopped, his jaw tightening. I’ve made decisions I can’t take back. built a reputation on fear and absolute control because in my world weakness gets you killed. And now now I’m sitting in a cafe at midnight drinking coffee with a nursing student who stood up to me over ve and I can’t remember the last time I felt this normal. Dante’s laugh was self-deprecating. Pathetic, isn’t it? It’s honest.
Sarah reached across the table before she could seconduess the gesture, her hand covering his. And honesty is never pathetic. The moment her skin touched his, electricity seemed to arc between them. Dante’s eyes widened slightly, and Sarah felt heat flood her cheeks. She started to pull away, but his other hand covered hers, holding it gently in place.
Sarah, her name was barely a whisper. You should run from me. You should finish this coffee, walk out that door, and never look back. Is that what you want? What I want? His grip tightened slightly. What I want is dangerous for both of us. Let me make my own decisions about danger. Dante’s phone buzzed insistently on the table. He ignored it.
It buzzed again and again. Finally, with obvious reluctance, he glanced at the screen. Whatever he saw there made his expression go cold and hard. The dangerous crime lord replacing the vulnerable man in an instant. I have to go. He stood abruptly. There’s a situation that requires my attention. Is everything okay? It will be.
The promise in those three words was ominous. Once I handle it, Sarah stood too, suddenly uncertain. Will I see you again? Dante pulled out his wallet, leaving $300 bills on the table for two cups of coffee. When he looked at her, the warmth had returned to his eyes despite the tension in his jaw.
“Count on it,” he hesitated, then reached out to tuck a strand of her light brown hair behind her ear. The gesture surprisingly gentle from such dangerous hands. “Be careful going home. Take a cab. I left enough to cover it. I don’t need. Please go.” The word seemed to pain him. Let me do this one normal thing. Let me worry about you getting home safely.
Sarah nodded, too overwhelmed to argue. Dante started toward the door, his bodyguards materializing from the shadows outside. At the threshold, he turned back. Those three words you said at the restaurant. You were right. I don’t own you. His smile was fierce and possessive all at once. But I’m going to spend every day trying to earn the right to be in your life.
Then he was gone, leaving Sarah standing in the cafe with a racing heart and the terrifying realization that she was already in too deep to walk away. Outside, she could see him speaking rapidly to his men. His entire demeanor transformed into something cold and lethal. This was the man Marco warned her about, the man who made people disappear.
But she’d also seen the other man, the one who seemed desperate for a taste of normaly, who’d looked at her like she was oxygen and he’d been drowning for years. Sarah flagged down a cab with shaking hands, Dante’s money still warm in her palm. As the city lights blurred past her window, she couldn’t help but wonder what situation had called him away so urgently. And somewhere across the city, in a warehouse by the docks, Dante Moretti stood over a man who’d made the fatal mistake of stealing from him, his expression carved from ice.
You took from my family. His voice was quiet, deadly. You know what that means, the man whimpered, pleading, but Dante’s mind was elsewhere, on light brown hair and fearless blue eyes. on a girl who touched his hand like he deserved gentleness instead of fear. “Take care of it,” he told his men, turning away before the inevitable conclusion.
“And make sure everyone knows what happens to thieves.” As he walked out of the warehouse, Dante pulled out his phone and looked at Sarah’s contact information. Antonio had been persuaded to share it. His thumb hovered over her number. He should leave her alone.
should let her live her normal life, finish nursing school, find some ordinary guy who could give her the safe, predictable future she deserved. But Dante Moretti had spent 10 years taking what he wanted without apology. And he’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted Sarah Mitchell. Two weeks passed in a blur of text messages, late night phone calls, and stolen moments between Sarah’s shifts and Dante’s increasingly mysterious business meetings.
They met for coffee three more times, each conversation peeling back another layer of the armor they both wore. Sarah learned that Dante spoke four languages, had a degree in economics from Harvard that he never used, and secretly donated to children’s hospitals under shell company names. He learned that she’d lost both parents in a car accident when she was 19, that she worked three jobs to afford nursing school, and that her dream was to work in pediatric oncology.
Why cancer? Dante had asked during their last cafe meeting, his hand finding hers across the table like it belonged there. Because kids shouldn’t have to be that brave. Sarah’s voice had caught. Because someone should fight for them as hard as they’re fighting to survive.
The look in Dante’s eyes had made her breath stop, like she’d said something that fundamentally changed how he saw the world. But they hadn’t moved beyond these public meetings. No dates at restaurants, no invitations to his world, and certainly nothing like the kiss that Sarah found herself thinking about far too often late at night.
Tonight, Valentino was hosting a private event for the city’s elite, politicians, business leaders, and the kind of people who moved through society’s upper echelons with practiced grace. Sarah had been asked to work the event, the tips too good to refuse, even though final exams loomed just two weeks away.
She was carrying a tray of champagne flutes through the crowd when she felt eyes on her. Turning, she found Dante across the room, devastating in a black tuxedo that probably cost more than her entire year’s tuition. He was speaking with an older man in an expensive suit, but his attention was focused entirely on her.
Their eyes met across the crowded room, and Sarah felt heat flood her cheeks. He excused himself from his conversation and began moving toward her with predatory grace, ignoring the people who tried to stop him for networking opportunities. Sarah sat down her tray with shaking hands, suddenly very aware that she was in her work uniform while he looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine. You’re here.
Dante’s voice was low as he reached her, pitched for her ears only. I work here, remember? I know. I may have requested your name specifically for tonight’s event. Dante, dance with me. I’m working. The event coordinator owes me a favor. His hand extended toward her. One dance, Sarah. That’s all I’m asking. She should say no.
Should remind him about boundaries and professionalism. But the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the entire room made rational thought impossible. Sarah placed her hand in his and Dante’s fingers closed around hers with gentle possession.
He led her to the edge of the dance floor where other couples swayed to the orchestra’s rendition of a classic standard. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her close enough that she could smell his cologne, something expensive and distinctly him. Sarah’s hand rested on his shoulder, and they began to move together like they’d done this a thousand times before.
You’re a good dancer,” she observed, trying to ignore how perfectly she fit against him. My mother insisted on lessons when I was young. Dante’s hand spread across the small of her back. She thought ballroom dancing would make me civilized. “Did it work? What do you think?” Sarah looked up at him at the dangerous beauty of his face, the barely leashed power in how he held her, the way other couples gave them a wide birth on the dance floor.
I think you’re capable of being civilized when it suits you and terrifying when it doesn’t. And which do you prefer? I prefer honesty. She met his dark eyes steadily. I prefer the man who calls me at midnight because he can’t sleep. the one who listens to me complain about organic chemistry exams and actually seems interested. I am interested.
Dante’s voice was intense. I’m interested in everything about you, Sarah. What you think, what you dream about, what makes you laugh. He pulled her fractionally closer. What makes you feel, Dante? Her voice was breathless now. I know this is complicated. I know I come with baggage that would make most people run for the hills. his jaw tightened. “But I can’t stop wanting you.
Can’t stop thinking about you. You’ve become the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing before I sleep. You barely know me. Then let me know you better. Let me He stopped mid-sentence, his entire body going rigid. Sarah felt the change in him instantly. The way his hand on her back shifted from gentle to protective. How his eyes moved past her to scan the room with sudden alertness.
What’s wrong? Don’t turn around. His voice was quiet, commanding. Just keep dancing. But Sarah had already caught sight of what had triggered his reaction. Near the bar, three men in suits were watching them with expressions that made her blood run cold.
They weren’t looking at Dante with the nervous respect she’d seen from other people. They were looking at him like predators sizing up prey. Who are they? Trouble. Dante’s hand tightened on her waist. The tall one is Marco Russo. He runs the North End territory. Rival family. Ambitious rival family. His expression was carved from stone. They’ve been pushing boundaries lately, testing my patience.
One of the men, Marco Russo, started moving toward them across the dance floor. Dante’s bodyguards materialized from the edges of the room, but he subtly waved them back. Moretti. Russo stopped a few feet away, his smile not reaching his cold eyes. Didn’t expect to see you at this charity circus. Russo. Dante’s voice was pleasant. Lethal.
I could say the same. Business brings me everywhere these days. Russo’s gaze slid to Sarah with insulting slowness. New acquisition. Sarah felt Dante’s entire body coil with rage, but his expression remained almost bored. Careful, Marco. You’re speaking about a lady. My apologies. The words were mocking.
I didn’t realize the Moretti family had started recruiting from weight staff. Times must be tough. Walk away, Russo. Dante’s voice dropped to something that barely qualified as human while you still can. Or what? You’ll make me disappear like the others? Russo laughed though there was an edge of nervousness to it. We both know those days are numbered. New blood is coming to this city. Moretti, your family’s reign is ending.
The orchestra had stopped playing. The entire ballroom had gone silent. Everyone watching the confrontation with horrified fascination. Sarah felt Dante’s hand trembling slightly against her back. Not with fear, she realized, but with the effort of restraining himself from violence. This isn’t the place. Dante’s words were ice. But soon, Marco.
Very soon, we’re going to have a long conversation about respect. Looking forward to it. Russo’s smile was ugly. In the meantime, enjoy your waitress while you still can. He walked away, his men following like shadows. The orchestra resumed playing, but the festive atmosphere had shattered. Dante’s jaw was set so hard Sarah worried he might crack a tooth.
I need to go now. Dante, wait. No. He stepped back from her, and the loss of his warmth felt physical. You need to stay away from me, Sarah. I thought I could. He ran a hand through his hair, destroying its perfect style. I thought I could keep you separate from this world, but I was wrong.
What are you talking about? Russo knows about you now. He saw us together. Which means Dante’s expression was anguished. Which means you’re a target, a weakness he can exploit. I can handle myself, not against people like him. Dante’s hands framed her face, his touch gentle despite the fear in his eyes. You don’t understand. These aren’t people who play by rules who have limits. If Russo thinks hurting you will hurt me.
He couldn’t finish the sentence. Then what? You’re going to walk away? Pretend these last two weeks didn’t happen. If it keeps you safe, yes. Sarah grabbed his wrists, holding his hands against her face. That’s not your decision to make. I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be protected from reality. But you are precious.
Dante’s voice cracked slightly. You’re the first good thing I’ve had in a decade, Sarah. The first pure, honest thing in a life built on lies and violence. I won’t let that world touch you. It already has. She pulled his hands down, but didn’t let go.
The moment I stood up to you in this restaurant, the moment I agreed to that first coffee, I stopped being separate from your world. Then I’ll push you out of it for your own good. No. Sarah’s voice was fierce. You don’t get to decide what’s good for me. You don’t get to make this choice alone. Before Dante could respond, his phone buzzed with an urgency that suggested catastrophe.
He looked at the screen and whatever he saw there drained the color from his face. What is it? Russo’s men just hit one of my warehouses. His voice was hollow. This is a declaration of war. Dante, I have to go. He was already moving toward the exit, his bodyguards flanking him. Stay here. Stay in public. I’ll have someone watch your apartment until this is over. Until what’s over.
But he was already gone. leaving Sarah standing alone on the dance floor while the orchestra played on and the city’s elite pretended not to stare. Sarah’s hands shook as she returned to work, going through the motions of serving drinks while her mind raced.
This was the world Dante lived in, where threats at parties preceded actual violence, where men talked about eliminating rivals like they were discussing business acquisitions. The event ended at midnight. Sarah changed out of her uniform in the staff room, checking her phone compulsively for messages from Dante. Nothing. She stepped outside to find a black SUV idling at the curb.
One of Dante’s vehicles with his head of security behind the wheel. Ms. Mitchell. The man’s voice was professional. Mr. Moretti asked me to ensure you get home safely. Sarah wanted to argue to insist she didn’t need protection, but the memory of Marco Russo’s cold eyes stopped her. She climbed into the SUV, hyper aware of the second vehicle that followed them through the dark city streets.
Her apartment building looked the same as always, the familiar brick facade, the broken light on the third floor, the sounds of her neighbors lives filtering through thin walls. But now Sarah saw it through new eyes, understanding how vulnerable she was here. The security guard walked her to her door, checking the apartment before allowing her inside. “I’ll be in the lobby, Ms. Mitchell.
You need anything? Call this number.” He handed her a card. Alone in her small studio, Sarah finally allowed herself to process what had happened. Dante’s anguished expression, Russo’s threatening smile, the revelation that simply being associated with Dante Moretti made her a target in wars she didn’t understand. Her phone buzzed.
Finally, Dante, are you home safe? Sarah? Yes. Your security is very thorough. Dante, good. Stay there. Lock the doors. Don’t go anywhere alone until I tell you it’s safe. Sarah, what’s happening? The three dots indicating he was typing appeared and disappeared several times before his response came through.
Dante, things I hoped you’d never have to know about. The reality of who I am and what my world looks like when it turns violent. Sarah, are you safe? The question hung unanswered for long minutes. Dante, I’m handling it. But Sarah, I meant what I said. We can’t see each other anymore. Not until this is over. Maybe not even then. Sarah, you don’t get to decide that alone.
Dante, if something happened to you because of me, because of my world, I couldn’t survive that. You’re the best part of my day. Every day, the only good thing I have, which is exactly why I need to keep you away from the darkness. Sarah stared at her phone, tears burning her eyes.
She’d known this was complicated, had understood on some level that Dante’s world came with danger, but the reality was different from the concept. Sharper, more frightening, more real. Her phone rang. Dante’s name lit up the screen. Hello. I needed to hear your voice. He sounded exhausted. One last time before I do what needs to be done. What are you going to do, Dante? What I always do when someone threatens my family? His voice was cold, emotionless.
I’m going to remind Marco Russo and everyone else in this city why the Moretti name still means something. That sounds ominous. It should. A pause. The man you’ve been getting to know these past weeks, the one who drinks coffee at midnight and listens to your stories about organic chemistry.
That’s who I want to be. But it’s not who I am when my family is under attack. You’re both people, Dante. One doesn’t erase the other, doesn’t it? His laugh was bitter. Sarah, I’ve done things that would horrify you. Made decisions that destroyed lives. My hands aren’t clean, and they never will be. I know. Her voice was quiet, but steady.
I’ve known from the beginning that you’re not some misunderstood hero. But I also know you’re capable of tenderness, of caring, of being more than what your world demands. You see what you want to see. I see the truth. Both truths. Sarah wiped at her tears. The question is whether you’re brave enough to let yourself be both people instead of just the monster everyone expects.
Silence on the line, broken only by the sound of his breathing. I have to go, Dante finally said. The situation requires my attention. Will you call me after? Sarah, please just let me know you’re okay. I’ll text you. His voice softened fractionally. Lock your doors. Stay safe. You, too. The line went dead. Sarah stood in her apartment, hugging herself against a chill that had nothing to do with temperature.
Somewhere across the city, Dante was preparing to wage war, to be the dangerous crime lord instead of the man who couldn’t sleep without hearing her voice. And she was falling in love with both versions of him. Which, Sarah reflected as she locked her doors and windows with shaking hands, made her either the bravest woman in the city or the biggest fool, possibly both.
Outside her building, two of Dante’s security team took up positions in the shadows. Inside, Sarah curled up on her couch with her phone clutched in her hand, waiting for a text that might never come. Across the city, in the private back room of a social club that never officially existed, Dante Moretti sat at the head of a table surrounded by his most trusted men. Russo made his choice when he hit our warehouse.
His voice was cold, calculated. Now we show him what choosing wrong looks like. The men nodded, their expressions grim. They all knew what was coming, the kind of response that would echo through the city’s underground for months. But as Dante outlined his strategy, his mind kept drifting to light brown hair and fearless blue eyes.
To a girl who believed he could be more than a monster for her, he thought he would end this war quickly, decisively, and then then he would have to make the hardest choice of his life. keep Sarah safe by walking away or risk her safety by asking her to choose him despite everything she now knew. His phone sat on the table, silent and accusing. Three words kept echoing in his mind.
The same three words that had started everything. You don’t own me. No, Dante thought as he prepared to unleash hell on Marco Russo. But you own me, Sarah Mitchell. You own every part of me that remembers how to be human. And that more than any threat from rivals terrified him completely. Three days of silence.
Sarah went to class, took exams, and served tables at Valentino’s with mechanical precision while her mind remained locked on her phone, waiting for a text that never came. The security detail outside her apartment building had doubled. Grim-faced men in dark suits who nodded politely when she passed, but refused to answer questions about Dante. The city felt different now.
Sarah noticed things she’d been blind to before. The way certain neighborhoods went quiet when expensive cars rolled through. How people on the street would suddenly find somewhere else to be when men in suits appeared. The unspoken understanding that some businesses were fronts for activities that never appeared on tax returns.
She’d been living in Dante’s world without realizing it. Now she couldn’t unsee it. On the fourth morning, Sarah woke to find her phone flooded with news alerts. A massive fire at a warehouse in the north end. Federal investigations into the Russo family’s business operations. Marco Russo himself had reportedly left the city, though the articles were vague about whether his departure was voluntary.
The war, it seemed, had ended. But at what cost? Sarah’s phone finally buzzed with a text. Dante, can I see you? Tonight, the cafe, please. Her hands shook as she typed her response. Sarah, what time? Dante, whenever you can get there. I’ll wait as long as it takes. She should have been angry about the days of silence, the fear and uncertainty.
Instead, Sarah felt relief flood through her so intensely, it made her dizzy. He was alive. He was safe. and he wanted to see her. Sarah called in sick to work, the first time she’d done so in 3 years, and spent the day oscillating between excitement and dread. What would he tell her? How bad had things gotten? And most importantly, did he still want to push her away for her own protection? By 7:00, she couldn’t wait any longer.
Sarah dressed carefully in a blue sweater and jeans, applied minimal makeup, and braided her light brown hair over one shoulder. In the mirror, she looked young and nervous, nothing like someone who should be involved with a man who wielded the kind of power Dante commanded. The cafe was nearly empty when she arrived.
Dante sat in their usual corner booth and Sarah’s breath caught at the sight of him. He looked exhausted, shadows under his eyes, his normally perfect hair slightly disheveled, and a tension in his shoulders that suggested he hadn’t slept in days. When he saw her, something in his expression cracked. Relief, longing, and pain all mixed together.
Sarah slid into the booth across from him, and for a long moment, they just stared at each other. “You look terrible,” she finally said. A surprised laugh escaped him. “Always honest.” “You asked me to be.” “I did.” Dante’s hand reached across the table, palm up, an invitation. Sarah placed her hand in his and his fingers closed around hers like she was a lifeline.
I’m sorry for the silence, for disappearing, for he stopped, struggling with words, for everything you must have imagined these past few days. What happened with Russo? It’s over. His voice was flat, emotionless in the way she’d learned meant he was protecting himself. His organization is scattered. The federal investigation will keep him occupied for years, and he understands now that coming after my family has consequences.
Did you? Sarah couldn’t finish the question. No. Dante’s eyes met hers. I wanted to. Part of me still wants to, but I made him a deal instead. Leave the city, cooperate with federal investigators on unrelated matters, and I’d let him walk away intact. Why? Because of you, his thumb traced circles on her palm.
Because the man you see when you look at me, the one who drinks coffee at midnight and listens to your stories, that man doesn’t solve everything with violence. And I’m trying to be him more than I’m the other version. Sarah felt tears prick her eyes. That must have been difficult. You have no idea. Dante’s jaw tightened. Every instinct I have, everything I was taught, every example my father set, it all screamed to handle Russo the old way permanently.
But then I’d think about you, about the disappointment I’d see in your eyes if I chose violence over restraint. And he shook his head. You’re changing me, Sarah. Making me question things I’ve accepted as absolute truth my entire life. Is that a bad thing? I don’t know yet. His smile was sad. What I do know is that these past four days without talking to you were the longest of my life.
I’d reach for my phone a hundred times, wanting to hear your voice, needing to know you were safe. But I also knew that until the situation with Russo was resolved. Any contact with you put you in more danger. I was worried about you, too. You shouldn’t be. I can handle men like Russo. I’ve been handling them my whole life. Dante’s expression grew serious. But Sarah, I need you to understand what being with me means. This won’t be the last threat.
There will always be someone ambitious. Someone who wants what the Moretti family has. Someone who will look for weaknesses to exploit, and I’m a weakness. You’re the only thing that matters to me anymore. The raw honesty in his voice made her chest tighten. which yes makes you a vulnerability in a world where showing vulnerability can be fatal.
Sarah was quiet for a long moment, processing what he was really saying. You’re trying to push me away again for my own good. I’m trying to give you all the information so you can make an informed choice. Dante’s grip on her hand tightened. I won’t lie to you, Sarah. Being with me comes with risks. security details, limited privacy, always wondering if someone is watching, waiting for an opportunity.
It’s not the normal life you deserve. And if I choose that life anyway, risks and all. Hope flickered in his dark eyes, quickly suppressed. Then I’d spend every day trying to be worthy of that choice, trying to be more of the man you see and less of the monster everyone else fears. You’re not a monster, Dante.
I’ve done monstrous things to protect your family, to survive in a world you were born into. Sarah leaned forward, her blue eyes intense. I’m not naive enough to think you’re some misunderstood hero, but I also don’t think you’re beyond redemption, beyond change, Sarah. His voice cracked slightly. I’ve been thinking about this for 4 days, about what I want, what I’m willing to risk.
She took a deep breath. I choose you, Dante. All of you. The part that’s dangerous and the part that’s gentle. The crime lord and the man who can’t sleep without hearing my voice. You don’t know what you’re saying. Yes, I do. Her voice was firm. I’m choosing to walk into this with open eyes.
To accept the risks because the alternative, living without you, feels worse than any danger your world presents. Dante stood abruptly, pulling her up with him. Before Sarah could process what was happening, his hands framed her face and his lips crashed against hers in a kiss that was equal parts desperation and reverence.
Sarah gasped against his mouth, and Dante took advantage, deepening the kiss with an intensity that made her knees weak. his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and Sarah’s hands fisted in his shirt, holding on like he was the only solid thing in his spinning world.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Dante rested his forehead against hers. “I love you.” The words tumbled out like a confession. “I know it’s too soon. I know I shouldn’t feel this strongly this fast, but Sarah, I love you. You’ve become essential to me in a way I didn’t think was possible. I love you, too. Sarah’s voice was barely a whisper.
I’m terrified and exhilarated and completely out of my depth. But I love you. Dante pulled back just enough to look at her, his expression transformed. The exhaustion was still there, the shadows under his eyes, but now there was also something that looked like joy. Come home with me. His voice was rough. Not for I just want you close.
Want to fall asleep knowing you’re safe? Sarah nodded beyond words. The drive to Dante’s penthouse was quiet, his hand never leaving hers in the back of the SUV. His security team followed at a discreet distance, and Sarah tried not to think about the fact that she needed armed guards to visit her boyfriend’s home. The penthouse was everything Sarah had expected and nothing like she’d imagined.
Yes, there was luxury. Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. Furniture that probably cost more than her yearly tuition. Art on the walls that might have been original masterpieces. But there were also unexpected details that revealed the man beneath the title. Books everywhere, dogeared and well read. A telescope pointed at the night sky.
Framed photos of a woman who had to be his mother. Her smile warm and genuine. a guitar in the corner worn from use. You play? Sarah gestured to the instrument. Used to before, Dante shrugged before everything else took priority. You should start again. Maybe I will. He pulled her into his arms just holding her. Stay with me tonight. Every night.
Move in here where I know you’re protected. Dante, I can’t just I know. Too fast. Too much. He pressed a kiss to her temple, but promise me you’ll think about it. About making this permanent. Sarah pulled back to look at him. Permanent as in living together, or permanent as in something more? All of it.
Dante’s expression was fierce, possessive, and completely vulnerable all at once. I want everything with you, Sarah. The whole impossible future. But I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give and be grateful for it. Ask me again. Her heart was racing. In a few months, when we’ve had time to navigate this together.
When I finished school and you’ve had more time to restructure your business into something legitimate. You want me to go legitimate? I want you to have options. Sarah’s hand rested over his heart. To build something that isn’t dependent on fear and violence. I think you’re capable of that. I think you want that. Dante was quiet for a long moment.
I’ve been thinking about it, about what my life could look like if I stepped back from the family business. Appointed someone else to handle day-to-day operations while I focus on our legal enterprises. You have legal enterprises, real estate, investments, a few restaurants. His smile was self-deprecating. Turns out I’m actually good at legitimate business when I apply myself.
I just never had a reason to before. And now, now I have the best reason in the world. He kissed her softly. You. They spent the night on his couch wrapped in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing. Dante told her about his mother, who died when he was 15. Cancer, the same disease Sarah wanted to help children fight.
Sarah told him about her parents, about the scholarship that had made nursing school possible, about her dreams of making a real difference. As the city lights glittered below them and Dawn began to paint the sky pink, Sarah realized she’d never felt safer or more certain about anything in her life. This was dangerous. This was complicated.
This was going to require sacrifices and compromises from both of them. But it was also real and worth fighting for. Dante’s phone buzzed insistently around 6:00 a.m. He answered it with obvious reluctance, his arm still wrapped around Sarah. What is it, Marcus? He listened for a moment, his expression hardening.
When I see no handle it the way we discussed, the new way. He glanced at Sarah. Because things are different now. We’re different. When he hung up, Sarah raised an eyebrow. Problem? someone testing our boundaries, seeing if my handling of Russo means I’ve gone soft. Dante’s smile was predatory.
Marcus is going to demonstrate that restraint isn’t weakness, that we can handle threats without defaulting to violence. I’m proud of you. Don’t be proud yet. This is harder than you know. Every instinct fights against it. His expression grew serious. But I meant what I said. I’m trying to be better for you, for us, for the future.
I want to build. Sarah kissed him slow and deep. Then we’ll build it together. 6 weeks later, Sarah stood in Dante’s home office, watching him conduct a business meeting via video conference. He was negotiating the sale of several properties, his business acumen on full display as he navigated complex financial discussions with the ease of someone who’d been doing this his entire life.
This was the legitimate side of his empire, the part he was systematically expanding while slowly extracting himself from the family’s traditional operations. It wasn’t easy. Old loyalties and expectations fought against every change. But Dante was stubborn, and with Sarah’s support, he was reshaping what it meant to be a Moretti.
The meeting ended, and Dante leaned back in his chair with a satisfied expression. That’s the Harbor District development locked down. Completely legal, completely clean. I’m impressed. Sarah moved behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders. How much of the business is legitimate now? About 40%. He tilted his head back to look at her. Another year and I think I can get it to 70, maybe higher.
And the rest being transferred to trusted people who understand that things are changing. that the Moretti family is moving in a new direction. His hand covered hers. It’s slow, frustrating, but it’s working. Sarah had moved into the penthouse 3 weeks ago, her small apartment packed up and left behind. Nursing school was demanding, but Dante had converted one of his spare rooms into a study space for her, complete with medical textbooks and a state-of-the-art computer system. Her finals were in two weeks. After that,
she’d graduate and begin her residency at Children’s Memorial Hospital, a position that had nothing to do with Dante’s influence and everything to do with her stellar academic record and passionate interview. Life had settled into an unexpected rhythm.
Sarah studied and attended classes while Dante rebuilt his empire into something that could survive without fear as its foundation. They had dinner together every night when possible. Long conversations about their days, their dreams, their future. The security was still there.
Guards at the building entrance, background checks on anyone who came near Sarah, armored vehicles for transportation, but she’d grown accustomed to it. Understanding that this was the price of loving Dante Moretti. I have something for you. Dante stood, pulling a small velvet box from his desk drawer. Sarah’s heart stopped. Dante, it’s not what you think. His smile was gentle. Not yet.
I promised to wait until you finished school. He opened the box to reveal a delicate gold necklace with a small pendant. A lion, the symbol of the Moretti family, but rendered an elegant, understated lines. It’s beautiful. It’s protection. Dante’s expression grew serious. Everyone in our world knows this symbol. Wearing it means you’re under Moretti protection.
That hurting you means declaring war on my entire family. Sarah understood the significance of what he was offering. This wasn’t just jewelry. It was a statement to everyone in his world that she was his and therefore untouchable. Will you wear it? Dante’s voice held uncertainty like he genuinely feared she might refuse. Yes.
Sarah turned, lifting her hair so he could fasten the clasp. The pendant settled against her skin, warm and surprisingly comfortable. When she turned back, Dante’s expression was fierce. I know I said I’d wait to ask the big questions, but Sarah, I need you to know when you graduate, when you’re ready, I’m going to ask you to marry me, and I hope you’ll say yes. I hope so, too.” Her voice was soft, but certain.
Dante pulled her into his arms and Sarah melted against him, marveling at how natural this had become. Six weeks ago, she’d been terrified of this world, of what it meant to love someone like Dante. Now she couldn’t imagine her life without him. His phone buzzed.
Dante glanced at the screen and swore under his breath. “What is it, Marco Russo?” His jaw tightened. Apparently, exile and federal investigations weren’t enough to keep him quiet. He’s been talking to the press, making accusations about the family’s business practices. Can he prove anything? No, but he doesn’t need to. Rumors and suspicion can be just as damaging as facts.
Dante set the phone down, his expression calculating. I need to handle this before it becomes a real problem. How? The old me would have silenced him permanently. Dante’s hand found hers. The new me is going to fight him in court with lawyers and legal documents instead of threats. That’s terrifying. Weak. Completely against everything I was taught.
Dante’s laugh was self-deprecating. Yeah, but it’s also the right thing to do. The legal thing. The thing that doesn’t risk everything I’m trying to build. Sarah kissed him proud and terrified in equal measure. When do you meet with the lawyers? Tomorrow morning. He pulled her closer. Want to come with me? See how boring legitimate business can be? I have class. Skip it.
This once. His smile was teasing. Live dangerously. I’m dating you. I live dangerously every day. They spent the evening on the balcony watching the sun set over the city that Dante had once controlled through fear and now sought to influence through legitimate means. Sarah quizzed him on the harbor district development while he helped her memorize medication dosages for her upcoming exam.
It was domestic, normal, exactly the kind of life Sarah had thought impossible 6 weeks ago. Do you miss it? Sarah asked as darkness fell. the power, the fear, being the person everyone was afraid to cross. Dante was quiet for a long moment. Sometimes when I’m in a meeting and someone pushes back, my first instinct is still to remind them who I am, what I’m capable of.
He looked at her. But then I think about coming home to you, about building something that isn’t dependent on violence, and I realize I don’t miss it as much as I thought I would. What do you miss? The certainty. When you rule through fear, everything is clear-cut. You know exactly where you stand, what your options are. His hand found hers.
This new way, legitimacy, legal battles, playing by society’s rules. It’s messier, slower, more uncertain, but worth it. If it means I get to keep you, if it means I can build a life where our children don’t inherit a legacy of violence and fear. Dante’s smile was soft, then yes. Absolutely worth it. Sarah’s breath caught.
Children eventually, if you want them, his thumb traced circles on her palm. I think about it sometimes. What our kids would be like if they’d have your courage and kindness. If I could be the kind of father who teaches them to be strong without being cruel, you would be. Sarah’s voice was certain. You’re already learning how to be strong in different ways.
The next morning, Sarah did skip class to accompany Dante to his lawyer’s office. She sat quietly in the corner while expensive attorneys in expensive suits discussed strategy for combating Russo’s allegations, discovery motions, depositions, litigation timelines. It was, as Dante had promised, monumentally boring, but it was also legitimate, legal, the kind of battle fought in courtrooms instead of back alleys. Sarah caught Dante’s eye across the conference room, and his expression softened.
This was for her, his look said. All of this, the lawyers, the legitimate business, the slow extraction from his family’s traditional operations was because she’d made him want to be better. When the meeting finally ended, Dante escorted her back to the penthouse, his hand resting protectively on the small of her back. “That was excruciating,” he said once they were alone.
“But effective? The lawyers think so. They’re confident they can not only shut down Russo’s accusations, but potentially pursue defamation charges. Dante pulled her into his arms. 6 months ago, I would have solved this problem in 3 hours with a phone call and implicit threats. Now, it’s going to take 6 months of legal maneuvering. Progress is rarely quick. No. His forehead rested against hers.
But it’s the right kind of progress. the kind that doesn’t compromise what we’re building together. That night, as they lay tangled together in Dante’s massive bed, Sarah felt a contentment she’d never experienced before. This was home. This complicated, dangerous, evolving relationship with a man who was trying to rewrite his entire life because she’d looked at him and seen potential for goodness.
“I love you,” she whispered into the darkness. “I love you more.” Dante’s arms tightened around her. You saved me, Sarah, from becoming the kind of man my reputation suggested I already was. You saved yourself. I just gave you a reason to try. Two weeks later, Sarah walked across the stage at her nursing school graduation, her red apron long since retired in favor of scrubs and a white coat.
In the audience, Dante sat in the front row, his expression proud and fierce and completely transformed from the cold crime lord who’d yelled at her about V 6 months ago. After the ceremony, he swept her into his arms, spinning her around despite the crowd of graduates and families. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmured against her hair.
“Thank you for,” Sarah struggled for words. for everything, the support, the space to focus on school, for being patient. I’d wait forever for you.” Dante set her down, his hands framing her face. “But I’m hoping I won’t have to wait much longer.” Before Sarah could ask what he meant, Dante dropped to one knee right there in the graduation hall, pulling out a small velvet box that held a ring, an emerald surrounded by diamonds.
Vintage and elegant and perfect. Sarah Mitchell, his voice carried across the suddenly silent hall. Six months ago, you looked me in the eye and refused to be intimidated. You saw past my reputation to the man underneath. You made me want to be better, to build something legitimate and good. You changed my entire world with three words. You don’t own me.
And you were right. I don’t own you, but I’m hoping you’ll choose to be mine anyway. Will you marry me? Sarah dropped to her knees in front of him, tears streaming down her face. Yes, God. Yes. Dante slid the ring onto her finger, and the graduation hall erupted in applause. He kissed her like they were the only two people in the world, and Sarah kissed him back, tasting salt from their mingled tears. This was the man she’d chosen.
The dangerous crime lord who was becoming something better. The feared Moretti heir who’d learned that true strength meant restraint. The lonely man who’d found someone brave enough to challenge him. When they finally broke apart, Dante rested his forehead against hers. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life earning this,” he promised.
“Earning you. You already have.” Sarah’s voice was fierce. Now we just get to build our future together. And as the crowd pressed in with congratulations and questions as her classmates gaped at the ring and Dante’s bodyguards managed the chaos with professional efficiency, Sarah realized that 6 months ago she’d walked into Valentino’s expecting a normal shift serving tables.
Instead, she’d found the love of her life in the last place she’d ever expected. in the dark eyes of a man everyone else feared who’d needed someone brave enough to see his humanity beneath the monster everyone else saw. One year later, Sarah stood in front of the floorlength mirror in her childhood bedroom, or rather the bedroom Dante had meticulously recreated based on her descriptions and the few photos she had from before her parents’ deaths.
He’d wanted her to have a space that felt like home as she prepared for their wedding. The dress was simple elegance, ivory silk that draped perfectly with delicate lace at the shoulders and a train that whispered across the hardwood floor. Her light brown hair was styled in soft waves, partially pinned up with small flowers woven through.
The Moretti lion pendant rested against her skin, familiar and comforting. “You look beautiful.” Marco, her coworker turned friend, stood in the doorway with tears in his eyes. like a princess. A princess who can handle herself around crime lords, but still. Sarah laughed. Former crime lord mostly. It was true.
Over the past year, Dante had systematically dismantled and rebuilt the Moretti Empire into something almost entirely legitimate. The family still had influence, still commanded respect, but now it came from business acumen and strategic investments rather than fear and implicit threats. The transition hadn’t been easy. Some of the old guard had resisted, preferring the traditional ways. A few had left the organization entirely.
But Dante had remained firm, supported by Sarah and a vision of what his family could become. He now ran one of the city’s most successful real estate development companies with legitimate holdings across three states. The lawyers had successfully fought Marco Russo’s allegations and Russo himself was currently serving time for tax evasion brought down by his own illegal activities, not Moretti retaliation.
It was, Sarah reflected, exactly the kind of justice Dante had been learning to embrace. slow, legal, but ultimately effective. The car is ready whenever you are, Marco said. Though I should warn you, there are about 200 people downstairs waiting to see you. Sarah’s stomach fluttered. The guest list had been a negotiation.
Old family associates who needed to witness that the Moretti air was truly settling down. Sarah’s nursing school friends who were still slightly terrified of Dante and a mix of business colleagues from Dante’s legitimate enterprises. “How does he look?” Sarah couldn’t help asking. Marco grinned. Like a man who can’t believe his luck.
He’s been pacing for the last hour, checking his watch every 30 seconds. Sarah gathered her bouquet, white roses, and delicate greenery, and took a deep breath. This was it. the moment that made everything official. That declared to both Dante’s world and hers that they were choosing this impossible love despite all the obstacles.
The venue was the same upscale restaurant where they’d met, Valentino’s. Antonio had insisted, saying it would be an honor to host the wedding of the man who’d become one of their most loyal patrons and the fearless waitress who’d changed his life. The corner booth, where they’d had their first confrontation, had been removed to create space for the ceremony.
Sarah appreciated the symbolism, removing the old to make room for the new. As she walked down the makeshift aisle between rows of chairs, past faces both familiar and intimidating. Sarah’s eyes found Dante at the front. He wore a perfectly tailored tuxedo, his dark hairstyled back, his expression a mix of awe and fierce possessiveness that made her breath catch.
But when she reached him and he took her hands, Sarah saw something else in his eyes. Vulnerability. Like even now, he couldn’t quite believe she’d chosen him. “You’re stunning,” he whispered as the efficient began. “You clean up pretty well yourself. The ceremony was traditional.
their vows a mix of standard promises and personal additions. When it came time for Dante’s vows, his voice was steady but thick with emotion. Sarah, a year and a half ago, you looked me in the eye and refused to be intimidated. You saw something in me that I’d forgotten existed. The capacity for goodness, for change, for becoming more than my worst instincts.
You challenged me to be better. And then you stood by me while I struggled to figure out what better meant. His hands tightened on hers. I promise to spend every day earning your love, to choose restraint over reaction, legitimacy over expedience, and us over everything else. You are my salvation, my conscience, and my greatest blessing.
I will protect you, cherish you, and love you until my last breath. Sarah’s vows were simpler, but no less heartfelt. Dante, you taught me that courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s choosing to move forward despite it. You showed me that people can change, that redemption is possible, and that love can transform even the darkest situations into something beautiful.
I choose you, all of you, everyday for the rest of our lives.” When the officient pronounced them married, Dante kissed her with a gentleness that belied his powerful reputation. The restaurant erupted in applause. Old family associates sitting next to nursing school graduates, two worlds colliding in celebration. The reception was a study in contrasts. Traditional Italian music mixed with contemporary hits.
Expensive champagne flowed alongside craft beer. Dante’s bodyguards, still present despite everything, chatted amicably with Sarah’s former professors. During their first dance, Dante pulled Sarah close, his hand spanning the small of her back. “How are you holding up?” he murmured against her hair. “It’s surreal.” “Good, but surreal.
” Sarah looked up at him. “A year and a half ago, I was serving you ve and planning my escape from your table. Now we’re married. Best decision I ever made. Being rude about that veil. Worst decision. It made me think you were an entitled jerk. I was an entitled jerk. Dante’s smile was self-deprecating. I just hid it better with everyone else.
And now, now I’m your entitled jerk exclusively. Sarah laughed and Dante spun her across the dance floor with practiced ease. When the song ended, Antonio approached with a bottle of wine. The same vintage Dante had been drinking the night they met. Compliments of the house, Antonio said, his eyes misty. I never thought I’d see the day when the fearsome Mr. Moretti looked this happy.
Neither did I, Dante admitted, pulling Sarah against his side. But she has a way of making impossible things seem achievable. The party continued late into the night. Sarah’s feet achd from dancing. Her face hurt from smiling, and she’d never felt happier. As the evening wound down, Dante whisked her away to the penthouse, now officially their home.
Though Sarah had insisted on keeping some of her old furniture mixed in with his expensive pieces. “Finally alone,” Dante sighed, loosening his tie as they stepped into the elevator. Not that I didn’t love the party, but but you’ve been wanting to get me alone all day since the moment I saw you in that dress.
His eyes darkened with heat. Do you know how difficult it was to maintain composure during the ceremony? All I could think about was this moment. The elevator doors opened to their penthouse, and Dante swept Sarah into his arms, carrying her across the threshold despite her laughing protests. This is so cliche.
Let me have my moment. He sat her down gently in their bedroom, his hands framing her face. Sarah Moretti, my wife. Dante Moretti, my husband. She savored the words. We really did this. Built something real from that disastrous first meeting. Best disaster of my life. Dante kissed her softly.
Thank you for seeing past the reputation, for giving me a chance to be better. Thank you for being brave enough to change. Sarah’s fingers traced the line of his jaw, for choosing us over everything else. They made love that night with a tenderness and passion that came from truly knowing each other. Not just physically, but emotionally. Every scar, every fear, every dream laid bare between them.
Afterwards, wrapped in each other’s arms as the city lights glittered below them, Sarah felt a contentment she’d never imagined possible. What are you thinking? Dante’s voice was drowsy, his hand tracing lazy patterns on her shoulder. That I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Sarah snuggled closer. That we found each other despite impossible odds.
That our story started with me being brave for 30 seconds and it changed everything. Three words, Dante murmured. You don’t own me. Best three words ever spoken to me. I love you are pretty good, too. Yeah. His arms tightened around her. Those are even better. They fell asleep like that. Sarah’s head on Dante’s chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. Outside, security guards maintained their posts.
The legitimate empire required management, and the world continued turning. But inside their penthouse, two people who’d found each other in the most unlikely circumstances slept peacefully, secure in the knowledge that they’d chosen each other against all odds. 5 years later, Sarah would stand in the pediatric oncology ward of Children’s Memorial Hospital, holding the hand of a scared six-year-old starting chemotherapy.
She’d be wearing scrubs instead of her old red apron, a wedding ring instead of nervousness, and her security detail would wait discreetly in the hallway. Dante would text her throughout the day, sometimes about business decisions, sometimes just to say he missed her, always signing off with, “I love you.
” They’d have a daughter by then, 3 years old, with her mother’s light brown hair and her father’s dark eyes. A daughter who would grow up knowing her father’s past but seeing primarily his present. The man who ran legitimate businesses, donated generously to children’s hospitals, and taught her that strength meant protecting the vulnerable, not exploiting them. But on their wedding night, none of that was certain yet.
All they had was each other, their impossible love, and the commitment to build a life worthy of the transformation they’d both undergone. Sarah drifted off to sleep, thinking about three words that had started everything. Three words that had made a feared crime lord stop and reconsider. Three words that had given her the courage to stand her ground when everything logical said to run.
You don’t own me. But somewhere in the process of falling in love, they’d learned that ownership was never the point. partnership was choosing each other every day despite the complications and the risks and the transformation required from both of them. And as the city slept and dawn prepared to paint the sky, Sarah Mitchell Moretti smiled against her husband’s chest, grateful for every moment that had led to this one. from a waitress who refused to back down to the wife of a reformed crime lord.
From three words of defiance to a lifetime of love. It was, she reflected, exactly the kind of impossible story she would have laughed at 18 months ago. But now it was her reality, her beautiful, complicated, hard one reality. And she wouldn’t change a single moment of it.