"Tease Me One More Time..." the Mafia Boss Said—She Had No Idea Who He Was

Villa Moretti sat like an ancient white fortress perched high above the clouds of Imerovigli.

Surrounded by ten-foot stone walls, armed guards with automatic rifles, and high-tech security cameras, the estate overlooked the dark expanse of the caldera. It was magnificent, breathtaking, and entirely inescapable.

Emily stood on the private terrace of her second-floor suite as the sun began to rise over the Aegean Sea. The sky painted itself in hues of lavender, rose, and gold, but the beauty of the Mediterranean sunrise felt like a cruel joke.

She had spent the last six hours pacing her room. The suite was larger than her entire apartment in Ohio, furnished with antique Italian velvet, silk sheets, and a marble bathroom stocked with expensive French perfumes. Yet every window was made of reinforced, bulletproof glass, and a silent, towering guard named Lucian stood outside her heavy oak door.

A knock sounded at the door before it swung open.

Dante stepped into the suite. He had changed into a tailored charcoal suit, his dark hair freshly styled, looking every bit the ruthless billionaire sovereign of the European underworld. Behind him came two female servants carrying silver trays loaded with fresh fruit, warm pastries, Greek yogurt, and strong espresso.

"Good morning, Emily," Dante said, gesturing for the servants to place the trays on the patio table. "I trust you slept well?"

"I didn't sleep at all," she said flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. She was still wearing her stained apron and jeans from the day before, refusing to touch the wardrobe of designer clothes Dante’s staff had placed in her closet. "How long are you keeping me here?"

Dante gestured toward the breakfast table. "Eat first. We have much to discuss."

"I'm not hungry."

Dante took a slow step toward her. His eyes narrowed slightly, a cold authority settling over his feature. "You haven't eaten since yesterday noon. Sit down and eat, Emily. I will not ask you a second time."

The sheer weight of his command filled the room. Emily grit her teeth, but her stomach betrayed her with a loud rumble. Hating herself for giving in, she walked to the patio table and sat down, picking up a buttered croissant.

Dante sat across from her, crossing his long legs. He watched her eat with a quiet, intense fascination that made her skin tingle.

"Here is the situation," Dante began, his voice calm and businesslike. "Victor Volkov has deployed three teams of mercenaries to the Greek islands. He believes your father hid the stolen twenty-four million in an encrypted offshore account, and that the key to that account was left to you or your mother."

Emily stopped chewing. "My father left us nothing! We lost our home! My mother worked two jobs just to pay off his medical bills!"

"Or so you were led to believe," Dante countered softly. "Your father was a master of misdirection. He played Volkov, he played the federal authorities, and he played his own family. But Volkov doesn't care about the truth. He wants his money, or he wants blood."

"And what do you want, Dante?" Emily asked, staring straight into his dark eyes. "Why are you interfering? You're a mafia boss. You don't save people out of the goodness of your heart."

A low, dark chuckle escaped Dante’s lips. "Very sharp. You're right, little mouse. I don't do charity. Four years ago, Volkov murdered my father in an ambush in Milan. Since then, the Moretti family and the Volkov syndicate have been locked in a cold war across southern Europe."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "If Volkov gets his hands on that twenty-four million, he will use it to fund a war that will destabilize my shipping routes in the Mediterranean. I cannot allow that to happen. If you have the key, I will take it. If you don't, I will use you as bait to draw Volkov into the open and destroy him once and for all."

Emily felt a cold chill run down her spine. "I'm just a pawn to you."

"You are a piece on my board," Dante corrected smoothly. "But as long as you are on my board, no one touches you. Tonight, I am attending a private charity gala in Athens. Volkov’s high-ranking lieutenants will be there, including his daughter, Bianca."

He stood up, walking behind her chair. He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. Her body went rigid at his touch, every nerve ending firing at once.

"You are coming with me," Dante whispered near her ear. "My stylists will prepare you. You will wear a dress worthy of a queen, you will hold my arm, and you will show the underworld that Emily Hart is under the absolute protection of Dante Moretti."

Emily turned her head slightly, looking up at him. "And if I refuse to play your game?"

Dante bent down until his lips almost grazed the shell of her ear. "Then I will leave you in this room, Emily. And when Volkov’s men eventually breach these walls, you will learn what real monsters look like."