Chapter 6 - The price of safety
The countryside estate in the Hamptons was massive, entirely isolated, and surrounded by acres of dense forest. It was Dante’s ultimate fortress, swarming with highly trained security personnel. The drive from Manhattan had been thick with unspoken tension. Sophia had sat between them in the armored SUV, holding Emma’s hand and resting her head on Dante’s arm, totally unaware of the impending war.
Inside the estate, the atmosphere was completely different from the penthouse. Large windows let in warm, natural light, and the luxurious leather furniture felt inviting. But the heavy gates outside were locked down.
Emma spent the afternoon setting up Sophia’s room. Her mind was racing. If Clara was Elena’s handler, where did they go? Why was Elena dead, but Clara's body was never found? Emma needed to talk to Dante, but she was terrified he would lock her away if he knew she had lied about her identity.
That evening, after putting Sophia to bed, Emma walked down to the estate’s massive kitchen. Dante was standing by the marble island, pouring a glass of bourbon. He had discarded his suit jacket and tie, the white dress shirt hugging his broad shoulders perfectly. He looked impossibly handsome, entirely consumed by the weight of his empire.
"Drink?" he offered, his deep voice slicing through the quiet room.
Emma shook her head, walking closer to the island. "You look exhausted."
Dante let out a low, dry laugh. "The entire eastern seaboard is preparing for a mob war over a five-year-old girl, and you're worried about my sleep schedule." He looked at her, his dark eyes intense and searching. "You are incredibly brave, Emma. Most people would have run the moment the guns came out."
"I have my own reasons for staying," Emma said softly, the distance between them feeling dangerously small.
Dante reached out, his large hand gently brushing a loose strand of brunette hair behind her ear. His touch was electric, sending a shiver down her spine. "I'm glad you stayed."
The emotional restraint between them was cracking, the trauma of the last few days pulling them violently together. Dante leaned in, his gaze dropping to her lips. Emma closed her eyes, entirely willing to fall into the safety of his immense power.
Suddenly, the deafening screech of a perimeter alarm shattered the quiet moment.
Dante’s romantic vulnerability vanished in an instant, replaced by the terrifying, cold mafia boss. He grabbed a heavy radio from the counter. "Status."
"Boss, we have a breach at the south gate," the security chief’s voice crackled through the speaker, panicked. "It’s not the commission. It's the Russians. Dozens of them. They are heavily armed."
Emma gasped. The Russian syndicate. They had found out who Sophia really was.
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"Lock down the main house," Dante roared, grabbing Emma’s hand and pulling her toward the stairs. "Get to Sophia. Now!"
As they ran down the hallway, the heavy oak front doors of the estate violently blew open. Not from an explosion, but from a massive, armored ram vehicle smashing through the entryway. Dante shoved Emma behind him, his body shielding her completely from the flying debris. But as the dust settled, Emma realized the Russian mercenaries pouring into the house weren't looking for Dante. They were pointing directly at her.
