Page 13 of Savage Union
By late afternoon, I'm climbing the walls with boredom and frustration. Dante sprawls on the couch in the main living area, scrolling through his phone while I pace.
"If you're trying to wear a hole in the floor, you're doing great," he comments without looking up.
"I need air."
"There's a terrace."
I stop pacing. "Where?"
He sighs dramatically, standing. "This way, princess."
He leads me to a door I hadn't noticed before, tucked beside the library on the main floor. It opens to a stunning terrace garden with views that steal my breath—Manhattan spread beneath us like a glittering toy set.
"Happy now?" Dante asks, leaning against the doorframe.
The fresh air fills my lungs, and for a moment, I almost forget my circumstances. "Why didn't anyone tell me about this?"
"You didn't ask." He shrugs. "Boss said you could use it, supervised. Don't get any ideas—it's a long way down."
I approach the edge, glass barriers preventing any potential jumpers—or escapees. "I'm not suicidal."
"Good to know."
The sound of the elevator from inside draws his attention. "Looks like the boss is back early."
He moves with surprising speed, guiding me back inside just as Vito emerges from the elevator into the main living area. He's still in business mode—three-piece suit, expression carved from stone. His eyes flick between us, lingering on Dante's hand near my elbow.
"Everything go smoothly?" Vito asks, though it doesn't sound like a question.
Dante drops his hand immediately. "All quiet, boss."
"Good." Vito loosens his tie. "You're dismissed."
Dante nods, already heading for the elevator. He pauses beside Vito, saying something too low for me to hear. Vito's expression darkens.
Once we're alone, Vito turns his full attention to me. "I see you discovered the terrace."
"No thanks to you."
"I assumed you'd explore." He removes his suit jacket, draping it precisely over a chair. "Did Dante behave himself?"
The strange question catches me off guard. "As much as any kidnapper's henchman can."
Something flashes in Vito's eyes. "Did he touch you?"
"What? No." I frown. "Why would he?"
Vito's jaw relaxes almost imperceptibly. "No reason."
But I see it now—the possessiveness behind the question. The warning in his tone wasn't for me; it was for Dante. The realization sends a complicated shiver through me.
"You're worried about me, or your property?" I ask, unable to help myself.
His eyes lock with mine. "Is there a difference?"
"There is to me."
He moves closer, invading my space with deliberate intent. "You're mine, Caterina. My responsibility. My concern. Mine to protect." His voice drops lower. "And yes, mine to possess."
