Chapter 5 - Behind Locked Bedroom Doors and Dangerous Gazes
When they returned to the Lake Forest estate at 2:00 AM, the atmosphere inside the fortress was wired with tension. Dante’s head of security, Enzo, met them in the foyer with grim news.
“Boss. Santoro’s men were spotted probing our perimeter along the eastern tree line an hour ago. We drove them off, but they’re testing the fences.”
Dante loosened his bow tie, his expression hardening. “Double the perimeter patrols. Put snipers on the roofline. Miss Moretti sleeps in my quarters tonight.”
Sienna snapped her head toward him. “Wait, what? I have my own guest room!”
“Your guest room is on the ground floor with exterior glass,” Dante replied coldly, walking up the grand staircase without pausing. “My suite is reinforced with steel core doors and ballistic shutters. If Santoro launches a coordinated hit tonight, that room is the only safe zone.”
Sienna had no choice but to follow.
Dante’s master suite was vast, decorated in minimalist charcoal and slate tones, centered around a king-sized bed and a massive stone fireplace. A roaring fire was already crackling, throwing amber light across the room.
“You take the bed,” Dante said, stripping off his tuxedo jacket and tossing it onto a leather chair. He began unbuttoning his dress shirt, revealing a broad, muscular torso mapped with scars—jagged knife wounds and bullet marks that told a horrific story of underworld warfare.
Sienna quickly turned her gaze away, blushing furiously. “Where are you sleeping?”
“On the sofa,” Dante said, pulling a heavy tactical handgun from his holster and setting it on the nightstand with a dull clink. “Unless you’re afraid of the dark, Miss Moretti.”
“I’m afraid of armed madmen, Mr. Valente. The dark is relatively harmless.”
Sienna kicked off her heels and curled up on the edge of the vast bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin. The silence in the room stretched, filled only by the crackle of burning logs.
“Dante?” she whispered into the dim light.
“What?” his deep voice came from the shadows of the couch.
“Why do you do this? You have billions. You could walk away, live anywhere in the world without looking over your shoulder.”
A long pause followed.
“When my father was murdered ten years ago, this city fell into chaos,” Dante said quietly, a rare vulnerability creeping into his tone. “Santoro and his butchers burned neighborhoods, extorted working families, and slaughtered anyone who spoke out. If I step down, there is no one between them and thousands of innocent people. Power isn't a luxury in this city, Sienna. It’s a shield.”
Sienna looked at the silhouette of the feared capo lying in the shadows. For the first time, she saw beyond the monster the newspapers wrote about. She saw a protector who carried a mountain of blood and duty on his shoulders alone.
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“Goodnight, Dante,” she said softly.
“Sleep, Sienna. Nothing touches you while I breathe.”
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