Good, she thought.
She wanted him to feel something.
“You people ruin everything,” she whispered. “Families. Love. Memory. Truth. Everything you touch turns rotten.”
Dante’s cheek reddened slowly.
“Yes,” he said.
She had not expected agreement.
It made her angrier.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because when I saw you at my mother’s table, I understood why Nico had kept you away from me.”
Her breathing changed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means he knew what would happen.”
“What would happen?”
Dante looked at her with such controlled restraint that she knew the answer before he said it.
“This.”
Livia shook her head. “No.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know enough.”
“You know nothing.”
“I know you smiled at dinner because you thought politeness would protect you. I know you touched your necklace every time my uncle asked you a question. I know you stopped eating after Nico answered for you. I know when I left the room, you watched the door like part of you wanted to follow.”
Her heart began to pound.
“You don’t get to say things like that.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to make this sound romantic.”
“It isn’t romantic,” Dante said. “It’s a disaster.”
That almost broke her.
Because he was right.
Whatever this was, it was not clean.
It was not soft.
It was not safe.
And somehow, impossibly, it had already begun.
Livia turned away.
“I need to leave.”
“Livia.”
The way he said her name stopped her.
She hated that too.
“You are in danger,” he said.
She looked back.
“From Nico?”
“From whoever he is still working for.”
“Still?”
Dante’s eyes moved briefly toward the side entrance.
Then back to her.
“I found out two weeks ago that Nico had made contact with the Bellarios.”
“The people who killed my father?”
“Yes.”
“And you waited two weeks to tell me?”
“I needed proof.”
“Of what?”
“That he was not only looking for your father’s file.”
Livia’s blood went cold.
“What else was he doing?”
Dante’s face hardened.
“Delivering you.”
The church went silent.
Her voice came out small.
“What?”
“Nico believes your father hid the file somewhere only you could find it. He has spent three months getting close enough to search your life without force.”
Livia remembered the questions.
Do you still have your dad’s old things?
Did your mother keep his office boxes?
Any storage units?
Old laptops?
Safe deposit keys?
She had thought he cared about her grief.
She had thought he wanted to know the pieces of her that still hurt.
Instead, he had been mapping her dead father’s remains.
Dante continued.
“But if he cannot find the file, the Bellarios may decide you are more useful alive than free.”
Livia’s hand flew to her mouth.
“You mean they would take me?”
“Yes.”
“And Nico would let them?”
Dante did not answer.
He did not need to.
Her phone buzzed in her hand.
Nico.
The screen lit up with his name.
For a moment, Livia only stared.
Then a message appeared.
Hey beautiful. Still at the studio? I miss you.
Her stomach twisted.
Dante looked at the phone.
“Answer him.”
She looked at him like he was insane.
“What?”
“Do not make him suspicious.”
“You want me to lie?”
“I want you alive.”
The words were quiet.
They were also the most serious thing anyone had ever said to her.
Her fingers trembled as she typed.
Just finished. Exhausted. Going home soon.
Nico replied almost instantly.
Want me to come over?
Dante shook his head once.
Livia typed.
Not tonight. Early morning tomorrow. Rain check?
The typing bubbles appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Of course. Love you.
Love you.
She stared at the words until they looked artificial.
Maybe they had always been artificial.
Dante’s voice was low.
“Has he said that before?”
“Yes.”
“Did you say it back?”
Her head snapped up.
“That is none of your business.”
Something passed over his face so quickly she almost missed it.
“You’re right.”
For the first time, he looked less like a king in a criminal empire and more like a man standing too close to something forbidden.
She hated him for that.
Because it made him human.
And humans were harder to walk away from.
“What do you want from me?” she asked.
“The truth.”
“I told you, I don’t have my father’s file.”
“You may not know you have it.”
“How convenient.”
“How dangerous.”
Livia pressed both hands to her face.
Her life had been rent payments, tea orders, yoga mats, cracked mirrors, playlists, clients who cried during breathing exercises, and one sweet boyfriend who seemed like proof that maybe she could still be loved.
Now it was mafia names, dead fathers, false brothers, hidden files, and a man she should fear looking at her like she mattered more than his own rules.
She lowered her hands.