Fateful Reunion

The only crack in his ruthless armor appeared on his twentieth birthday. His family hosted a banquet, an event Dante dragged his feet to attend. Gatherings like this were just endless parades of greedy partners and hollow toasts. He survived them only through an iron-clad alcohol tolerance.

Arriving an hour late, he fully expected a miserable night. Instead, he stopped dead.

Standing in the crowd was Giselle Vance. Six years had passed. She wore a strapless gown, her brunette hair framing striking blue eyes. They met in Country B as kids. She was bullied by a vicious aunt; he had his own tormentor in cousin Cora. Misery forged a bond that turned into teenage romance, right up until her family vanished. Even as a boss, his detectives hit a dead end.

Now, she was served back to him on a silver platter.

Dante crossed the room in long strides. Giselle froze, taking in the man he had become. He towered over the crowd in a sharp white three-piece suit, his tanned skin contrasting with his dark hair and beard.

"Dante..." she breathed, flashing an awestruck smile.

"Giselle," he answered, reaching for her hand. "It’s been a while. How have you been?"

"I’ve been good," she stammered.

The band shifted into a slow rhythm, and he asked for a dance. That night pulled them right back together. Yet, a twisted curse hung over them. Whenever things heated up and he tried to fuck her, a blinding migraine dropped him to his knees. His body shut down.

That physical block left him crawling with frustration. He found his release in Cora. His wife lived under his roof, and he used her like any other woman he fucked to take the edge off. He took her with brutal force. Discovering it was her first time sent a jolt of remorse through him. He swore he wouldn't touch her again. But the sick craving for her body always won, dragging him back to ruthlessly fuck her.

-/Present Time/-

The drive took forty minutes. Dante stepped out of his vehicle at the old mansion, his expression locked into a frozen mask.

Butler Edgar waited by the doors. "Welcome home, young master." He bowed and took Dante’s coat.

"Thank you," Dante said, stepping into the foyer.

"The madam is in the dining hall," Edgar reported.

Dante nodded. Before he could move, his phone rang. He tapped his earpiece. "Speak."

"Boss, the madam fainted," Knox reported. He was part of the detail watching Cora from afar since she knew nothing of his mafia ties.

"What happened?" Dante growled.

"She stayed on her knees where you left her, Boss. She fainted trying to stand."

"Take her to the fucking hospital," Dante snapped. He shoved down the unwanted flare of panic, hating that he cared.

"Okay, boss," Knox hung up.

Dante strode into the dining room. His mother, Lucia, was setting the table.

"Mom, I’ve told you to let the maids do this," he complained. "They get paid for it."

Lucia smiled and hugged him. "I thought you’d forgotten about your mother."

"I did," Dante deadpanned.

She stepped back, amused. "Did the almighty Dante just joke?"

"I meant what I said," he stated with a straight face.

Lucia grinned and asked him to join her. With his father and grandfather away, they ate quietly until nearly finished.

"When will you introduce us to your wife?" she asked.

Dante set his cutlery down, wiped his mouth, and looked at her.

"I will when I deem it fit."

He stood up to leave. Lucia knew not to push the topic.

"Will you be staying for the night?" she asked instead.

"I’m staying for a week," Dante said blandly, walking to his room.

Lucia sat alone, watching his retreating back. She sighed heavily. He must have argued with his wife to stay here for a week. She tried to figure out who her son married, but Dante brushed it off every time. Once, she even visited his house, only to be blocked by bodyguards.

Resigned, she cleared the table and retired for the night.