Dante Costa. Tall. Crescent scar on his jaw. One silver streak in his hair.
He moves like danger disguised as ease. He guards with a grin. He smells of leather and citrus and makes my teeth ache. He belongs to a family that writes rules in blood. He can protect me — or make me collateral.
We collide and it burns. He drags me into his world. Enzo snarls questions. A photo of me in a stairwell lands under my door. Marco texts: remember the terms. Men in black come for answers and find Dante instead.
He fights like a man who knows how to make threats pay. He claims me with fingers on my ribs and bullets at the stair. We steal a rooftop kiss and a plan: expose Marco or die trying.
Now there’s a choice with teeth. I can hand myself over and try to spare him. Or I can stay and make him a target.
I choose him. Will that be enough to keep us both alive?
