Page 25 of Until It Ends

My father thinks I went to the event to get on better terms with Binetti's daughter, the Italian princess who was having the birthday. Bianco Binetti is on my father's short list of women that he wants me to marry.

"I'm not interested in being set up," I state firmly, my tone leaving no room for negotiation.

His gaze hardens, a calculated gleam in his eyes. "Well, you may not have a choice in the matter," he retorts. "The young princess is on my shortlist of potential matches for you. She comes from a prestigious family, with substantial wealth and lucrative connections. You don't have to love her, Dante. You just have to get to know her. That's what you were supposed to be doing all along. That's why I sent you in my place."

"You sent me because you can't walk." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, but it's true.

My father pounds his fist on the table. "My patience is growing thin."

"So is mine. I gave you my answer before your coma, and it remains the same," I declare, my voice tinged with defiance. "I'm not marrying her. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever."

A tense silence hangs in the air as the weight of our unspoken disagreement reverberates between us. I turn on my heels, my frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Now I have business to take care of seeing as how you're confined within these four walls." I state curtly, my voice laden with finality.

Without waiting for a response, I storm out of the room, leaving my father behind. I have my own battles to fight, and I won't let anyone dictate my choices, not even my own father.

But the truth of the matter is, with my father confined the way he is, I have to take measures into my own hands. He can't do anything about anything now, so I will.

Twenty-Three

Dante

Istand in the ruin of my warehouse, smoke and ashes billowing around me. Everywhere I look there is destruction - equipment smashed to pieces, fire licking along the walls, and most heartbreakingly, Boston deal equipment missing without a trace. Rage courses through my veins as I take in the devastation. All of the equipment, meticulously gathered for the Boston deal, is gone. Stolen. Along with it, my hopes of expanding our operations, securing new alliances, and strengthening our position in the market. It's a devastating blow, not just financially, but strategically as well.

Sparks still flicker from where the blaze had consumed all of my equipment, leaving only charred husks and ashes in its wake. I seethe with rage as I survey the damage, unable to process what had happened and feeling utterly betrayed.

I can't help but feel a knot of bitterness tighten in my chest. The Ciprianos did this. They've struck back with vengeance, delivering a clear message that their retribution for my intrusion into their New Jersey stronghold is far from over. The evidence is glaring, left behind for me to see – a cigarette lighter adorned with the unmistakable Cipriano crest. A blatant act of provocation, a symbol of their audacity.

"Fucking bastards!"I kick at several melted crates.

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to give in to the rage bubbling within me. I won't let them see how deeply this has affected me, how they've struck a nerve. But the truth is, this act of sabotage will have severe consequences. It will disrupt our supply chain, cause financial losses, and erode the trust of our partners.

The fire, intentionally set to destroy the most assets, adds insult to injury. The flames, once a source of warmth and power, now dance mockingly in the ruins, consuming everything in their path. It's a cruel reminder of the power dynamics at play, a reminder that they hold the upper hand in this ongoing battle. The ball is now in my court.

But I refuse to be defeated. I will not let their actions crush our spirit or deter us from our path. The fire may have ravaged our warehouse, but it can't touch our resilience, our determination to rebuild, and our unwavering commitment to protecting what is rightfully ours.

As I stand amidst the wreckage, I can't help but wonder about the future. The Ciprianos have shown their cards, engaging in a dangerous game of retaliation. Their actions speak of a deep-rooted desire to maintain their dominance, to reclaim what they believe is theirs. And I can't deny the unsettling truth that this conflict is far from over.

In the midst of the chaos, I must strategize, regroup, and strike back with calculated precision. But I also can't help but acknowledge the personal stakes involved. Valeria, the woman I love, the woman I intend to marry, now caught in the crossfire. The intensity of our connection still burns within me, even as the flames of the warehouse dim.

This act of aggression has heightened the stakes, raising the specter of a brewing war between our families. And as the weight of my responsibilities presses upon me, I know I must protect not only our business interests but also those I hold dear.

I take a deep breath, drawing strength from the ashes that surround me.

With a steely resolve, I turn away from the remnants of the warehouse, my mind already churning with plans for retaliation. The road ahead will be treacherous, the challenges great, but I'm ready. The Ciprianos may have ignited the fire, but they'll soon realize that they have awakened a force they can't extinguish.

Twenty-Four

Valeria

Itake a deep breath as I make my way down the grand staircase, Polo's request echoing in my mind. Dinner with him and his sons—a chance to further solidify the illusion of family and forge connections amidst the tensions that simmer between us. But as I step into the dining room, my heart sinks, a wave of unease washing over me.

Enzo's gaze lingers on me, his eyes a mix of curiosity and caution. I can sense his calculated nature, the wheels turning in his mind as he sizes me up, weighing my worth and my intentions. But it is Rocco, Polo's other son, who exudes suspicion, his eyes filled with a venomous disdain that makes my blood run cold.

Polo, ever the peacemaker, attempts to dispel the tension that fills the room. "Take a seat, Valeria." He pulls out a seat to the right of him. "We're all family here, bound by blood and unbreakable loyalty."

Even his efforts cannot mask the undercurrent of unease that permeates the atmosphere.

As we settle around the table, I can feel Rocco's piercing gaze upon me, his scrutiny unyielding. His presence is suffocating. It becomes clear that he revels in his own narcissism, a twisted pleasure derived from asserting his dominance and putting others in their place.

---