Lines crossed

The days blurred together after that dinner, a routine slowly forming around Amara’s new life with Dante. Each morning, she woke to find the bed beside her empty, his presence a ghost that lingered even when he wasn’t there. Dante left early, always for business, and by the time he returned at night, the edge in his demeanor was sharper than before.

Amara had taken to exploring the penthouse during the day. It was filled with art and antiques that spoke of wealth and taste she could barely comprehend, each object a reminder of how far removed this world was from her own. Olivia’s transfer to the private clinic had gone smoothly, and for that, Amara was endlessly grateful. She visited her sister regularly, sitting by her bedside, talking to her even though Olivia was still unconscious. But every time she stepped back into the luxury of Dante’s penthouse, the weight of what she had sacrificed for Olivia’s care pressed down on her.

This wasn’t freedom. She was beginning to realize that.

Late one afternoon, Amara sat on the terrace, the city sprawled out beneath her like a living, breathing entity. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the skyline. She pulled her knees to her chest, staring out at the horizon, her thoughts heavy. The boundaries of her life were becoming clearer, each day a reminder that she was no longer in control.

Footsteps approached from behind her, and she turned to see Dante stepping out onto the terrace, his suit jacket slung over one arm. He looked tired, though the hard lines of his face showed no vulnerability.

“You’re home early,” Amara said, her voice tentative.

Dante sat beside her, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared out at the city. “I thought it was time we talked.”

The statement sent a chill down her spine. “About what?”

He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the skyline. “About us. About where this is going.”

Amara swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. She had been dreading this conversation, knowing it would eventually come. “I’m listening.”

Dante finally turned to face her, his expression unreadable. “You’re not a prisoner here, Amara. I’ve given you everything you need, taken care of your sister, and in return, you’re with me. But I need to know that you’re… committed to this.”

She stiffened at his words. “What exactly are you asking?”

“I need your loyalty,” he said simply. “I need to know that you won’t betray me.”

The intensity in his voice unsettled her. “I haven’t done anything to make you think I would betray you.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He shifted, his hand brushing against hers, sending a jolt of electricity up her arm. “I need to know that you understand what being with me means. You’re in my world now, and there are rules.”

Amara bit her lip, her heart pounding. “I thought I understood that.”

Dante’s gaze darkened. “There are things about my life that you don’t know yet—things you might not be ready for. But if we’re going to make this work, you need to trust me.”

The vulnerability in his tone surprised her. Dante was always in control, always the one calling the shots. But there was something raw in the way he was looking at her now, something that made her chest tighten.

“I do trust you,” she said softly. “But this is all still new to me, Dante. It’s a lot to take in.”

He nodded, his hand slipping around the back of her neck, pulling her closer. “I know it’s not easy, but you’ll get used to it. And if you stay by my side, you’ll never have to worry about anything again.”

Amara’s breath hitched as his lips brushed against her temple. Part of her wanted to believe him—to let herself sink into the safety and security he promised. But another part of her, the part that had always fought for her independence, resisted. She didn’t want to lose herself in Dante’s world, no matter how tempting it was.

“Dante…” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “I don’t want to just be something you own.”

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes narrowing. “You think that’s what this is?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Sometimes it feels like it.”

Dante’s grip on her neck tightened, though his touch remained gentle. “I don’t own you, Amara. But you are mine. There’s a difference.”

The possessiveness in his voice made her shiver. She had heard him say those words before—You’re mine—but they felt heavier now, more dangerous.

“I need to know that you’re not going anywhere,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I’m not,” she replied, though the words felt more like a promise to herself than to him.

Satisfied, Dante leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was as much a claim as it was an expression of desire. Amara responded instinctively, her body melting against his as the heat between them flared. She had never been able to resist him, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Later that evening, Amara lay in bed, her mind racing as Dante slept beside her. His breathing was steady, his arm draped over her waist as if to remind her that she was his. But sleep eluded her.

She slipped out of bed and padded across the room, wrapping herself in one of Dante’s shirts. The fabric smelled like him, a mix of cologne and something darker, more dangerous. She wandered into the living room, her mind still spinning from their conversation earlier. She wasn’t sure what Dante had meant by things she “wasn’t ready for,” but the warning in his voice had unsettled her.

Amara’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a phone buzzing on the coffee table. It wasn’t hers—it was Dante’s. She hesitated, glancing back toward the bedroom to make sure he was still asleep before picking it up.

The screen lit up with a text message from someone named Marco.

Need to meet. Situation’s getting worse.

Amara frowned, her thumb hovering over the screen. She knew she shouldn’t look, but curiosity got the better of her. She swiped to read more, but the message was locked.

She placed the phone back on the table, her heart racing. Who was Marco? And what situation was getting worse?

Her mind filled with possibilities, none of them good. Dante had told her that his world was dangerous, but he had been vague about the specifics. Now, she was starting to wonder just how deep she had gotten herself.

The following morning, Amara found herself sitting across from Claudia at a small café downtown. It was one of the few times Dante had let her leave the penthouse without him, and she had taken the opportunity to meet with Claudia, hoping to gain some clarity on the situation.

Claudia, as always, was impeccably dressed, her icy demeanor intact. She sipped her espresso slowly, her sharp eyes never leaving Amara’s face.

“So,” Claudia said after a long silence, “how are you adjusting?”

Amara shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s… different.”

Claudia raised an eyebrow. “Different?”

“I mean, it’s a lot to take in,” Amara clarified. “Dante’s life… it’s complicated.”

Claudia smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re in over your head, Amara. But you already knew that.”

Amara’s stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

Claudia set her cup down, folding her hands neatly in front of her. “Dante has enemies. Powerful enemies. And if you’re going to be with him, you need to understand what that means.”

“I understand the danger,” Amara said, though she wasn’t sure she fully did.

“No, you don’t,” Claudia replied sharply. “You have no idea what kind of people are involved. The men Dante deals with… they don’t play by the rules. And neither does he.”

Amara’s chest tightened. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need to be careful,” Claudia said, her tone softening slightly. “Dante might care about you, but his world doesn’t. And if you get in the way, you’ll be discarded like everyone else.”

Amara swallowed hard, her mind spinning. “Is that a warning?”

Claudia shrugged. “It’s advice. Take it or leave it.”

That night, back at the penthouse, Amara couldn’t shake Claudia’s words. They echoed in her mind as she sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the sheets. Dante was in the shower, the sound of the water running a steady backdrop to her turbulent thoughts.

What had she gotten herself into? She had known Dante was dangerous, but she hadn’t realized the full extent of it. Claudia’s words had rattled her, making her question everything. How deep was Dante involved in this world? And more importantly, how far was he willing to go to protect his power?

When Dante emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, he caught sight of the look on her face. His eyes narrowed as he crossed the room to her, his presence looming over her like a shadow.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low.

Amara hesitated, unsure of how much to say. She didn’t want to push him, but she needed answers. “Dante, I… I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?” he asked, sitting beside her, his damp skin brushing against hers.

“About your world,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “About what it means for me to be part of it.”

Dante’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.

“I need to know, Dante,” she continued, her heart pounding in her chest. “I need to know what you’re involved in.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her shiver. Then, finally, he spoke.

“You don’t want to know, Amara.”

But she did. And she had a feeling that once she found out, there would be no turning back.