Then she shook her head.

Dante kissed her like she was something precious.

Not rushed.

Not demanding.

Just slow warmth and impossible tenderness from a man built for violence.

Emma made a small broken sound against his mouth.

And Dante immediately pulled back.

His breathing was uneven.

“Too much?”

Emma stared at him in shock.

“No one’s ever asked me that before.”

Something fierce flashed in his eyes.

“They should have.”

Then he kissed her again.

And this time Emma melted into him completely.

The next morning, Emma woke alone.

For one awful second, she thought she had imagined everything.

Then she found Dante’s suit jacket draped over the chair beside the bed.

And beneath it—

A photograph.

Old.

Worn at the edges.

Emma picked it up carefully.

A young boy stood beside a dark-haired woman smiling softly at the camera.

The boy was unmistakably Dante.

But he couldn’t have been older than ten.

On the back, written in faded ink:

Protect what is kind. —Mama

Emma’s chest tightened.

A quiet knock interrupted her thoughts.

One of Dante’s security men stood outside the suite.

“Mr. Moretti asked me to bring you breakfast.”

The cart behind him looked absurdly expensive.

Emma blinked. “Does he always solve problems with money?”

The guard actually smiled. “Usually with threats.”

Before she could answer, the television suddenly flashed red.

BREAKING NEWS.

A warehouse fire at Moretti Shipping overnight had left three men hospitalized.

Suspected gang retaliation.

Emma’s stomach dropped.

Because beneath the headline appeared a photo of Dante.

Cold-eyed.

Untouchable.

Nothing like the man who had kissed her like she mattered.

The guard noticed her expression.

“Most of what they say about him isn’t true.”

“Some of it is.”

The guard hesitated.

Then quietly said, “Mr. Moretti once paid for my daughter’s cancer treatment.”

Emma looked up sharply.

“He never told anyone,” the man added. “Found out I was selling my house.”

Something shifted inside her.

Because monsters didn’t usually save strangers quietly.

And Dante Moretti had never once tried to convince her he was good.

That frightened her more.

By evening, Dante still hadn’t returned.

Emma paced the suite anxiously until the elevator suddenly opened.

But it wasn’t Dante.

A tall man stepped out wearing an expensive gray suit and a smile too sharp to trust.

“Emma Reynolds,” he said smoothly. “I’m Luca Moretti.”

Fear crawled instantly down her spine.

The brother.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you.”

His eyes swept over the suite with amusement.

“My brother moves quickly.”

Emma backed away slowly.

Luca sighed dramatically. “Relax. If I wanted to hurt you, we wouldn’t be talking.”

That did not help.

He stepped closer.

“You know what Dante’s weakness is?”

Emma said nothing.

“He mistakes kindness for innocence.”

Luca smiled coldly.

“Our world destroys innocent people.”

Before Emma could respond, another voice thundered from the doorway.

“Get away from her.”

Dante.

He looked murderous.

Luca laughed softly. “There he is.”

The tension between them felt lethal.

Dante crossed the room slowly, every movement controlled.

“You came into my city after I warned you.”

Luca’s smile faded. “You think Chicago belongs to you?”