Chapter 9: The Door Between Us

Elena Vitiello POV

My hand remained on the doorknob.

Dante stood on the other side.

Waiting.

For years, I had waited for him.

Now he was waiting for me.

The irony wasn't lost on either of us.

"Elena."

His voice was lower this time.

Softer.

Dangerous in a completely different way.

I closed my eyes.

"Go to bed, Dante."

"I can't sleep."

"That sounds like a personal problem."

Silence.

Then a short laugh.

The sound startled me.

Dante rarely laughed.

"You used to be nicer."

"You used to ignore me."

The silence that followed felt sharp enough to cut skin.

"Open the door."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to."

Another pause.

"That's not a reason."

"It's the only reason I need."

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I heard his footsteps retreat.

A strange ache spread through my chest.

Not because he left.

Because some foolish part of me had wanted him to stay.

I hated that part.

The next morning, I woke up to chaos.

Voices echoed through the hallway.

Doors opened and closed.

Soldiers moved quickly between rooms.

The estate felt tense.

Alert.

I dressed quickly and stepped into the corridor.

Marco appeared almost immediately.

"Mrs. Moretti."

"What's happening?"

His expression was carefully neutral.

"Security issue."

"What kind of security issue?"

"A shipment disappeared."

That was bad.

Very bad.

The Moretti organization moved millions through those shipping routes.

A missing shipment usually meant betrayal.

Or war.

"Where is Dante?"

"The study."

Of course he was.

The king was always in the war room when something caught fire.

I headed downstairs.

The study doors were open.

Inside, Capos argued around a massive table covered in maps and reports.

Dante stood at the head of it all.

Calm.

Cold.

Terrifying.

"Find the leak," he said.

"I don't care how."

"I don't care who gets hurt."

"I want names before sunset."

The room immediately fell silent.

Nobody argued.

Nobody questioned.

That was the thing about Dante.

People feared disappointing him more than death.

His eyes found mine across the room.

For a second, everything else disappeared.

The Capos.

The maps.

The shouting.

Just us.

"Elena."

His voice changed immediately.

Less lethal.

More human.

"Good morning."

Several men looked shocked.

Apparently they weren't used to the Underboss sounding civilized.

"Good morning," I replied.

"Did you sleep?"

The question was simple.

Ordinary.

But somehow it felt more intimate than anything he'd said in years.

"A little."

"You should eat breakfast."

I blinked.

"Thank you for the medical advice."

Marco nearly choked.

One of the Capos looked horrified.

Nobody spoke to Dante that way.

Nobody.

Except apparently his wife.

Dante stared at me.

Then something unbelievable happened.

His mouth twitched.

Not quite a smile.

But close.

"Go eat," he said.

"Yes, sir."

I walked away before anyone could see how confused I felt.

Something was changing.

Not enough.

Not nearly enough.

But something.

By afternoon, Isabella called.

"Everything is ready."

My heart immediately accelerated.

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

"No problems?"

"None."

"No trails?"

"I covered everything."

"Good."

"You sound nervous."

"I am nervous."

"That's normal."

"This is Dante."

Silence.

"Yeah," Isabella admitted quietly. "That part isn't normal."

I looked out the window.

Rain clouds were gathering above Manhattan.

Dark.

Heavy.

Threatening.

"Twenty-four hours," I whispered.

"Then you're free."

Free.

The word felt unreal.

Like something that belonged to other people.

Not me.

That evening, the entire family gathered for dinner.

Donna Moretti.

Several Capos.

Their wives.

Even Sofia.

She arrived thirty minutes late.

Naturally.

Every conversation shifted toward her immediately.

"It was terrifying," Sofia said dramatically.

"You should have seen the gun."

"I thought I was going to die."

The table murmured sympathetically.

I focused on my wine.

"Thankfully Dante saved me."

There it was.

The reason she kept coming back.

Not love.

Attention.

Dante didn't respond.

That surprised me.

"Dante?" Sofia prompted.

He looked up.

"What?"

"You aren't listening."

"I heard you."

"Then say something."

The table went quiet.

Everyone was watching.

Waiting.

Dante leaned back in his chair.

"You're safe."

"Because of you."

"Because my men did their jobs."

Sofia blinked.

So did I.

That wasn't the response she expected.

Or me.

The conversation awkwardly moved on.

But I noticed something.

Every few minutes, Dante looked at me.

Not Sofia.

Me.

As if trying to solve a puzzle.

As if searching for something he had lost.

The problem was simple.

He wasn't losing me.

He had already lost me.

He just hadn't realized it yet.

Tomorrow night, I would be gone.

And when Dante Moretti finally discovered the truth, there would be no door left to knock on.