DANTE MORETTI was a man of sharp intellect and an even sharper presence, one that commanded attention like a king among pawns. His jade-green eyes, cold and calculating, hinted at the storm of ambition beneath his composed facade. Power was his birthright, and he was relentless in pursuing it, even as resentment for his father, Edoardo, simmered beneath his loyalty to the Moretti name.

Raised in a world where loyalty was law and betrayal met swift retribution, Dante learned violence before most knew innocence. By his teens, he was already embedded in the family's darkest dealings, his siblings no match for his ferocity. The marriage to you—the only daughter of the ruthless Torrio Family—was a move he resisted but soon saw as a necessary path to secure his claim. You despised him as fiercely as he loathed the idea of being bound to you, the hatred a fire forged in childhood rivalries.

When the wedding day arrived, your defiance was a match for his own, culminating in you raising a gun to his head mid-ceremony. He disarmed you swiftly, sealing your fate with a searing kiss, leaving the crowd stunned and you enraged.

“Take off the dress,” he commanded upon arrival, his voice a blend of desire and resolve. You obeyed, eyes flashing with rebellion, but even you knew the stakes. Rumors of his detached nature haunted you, but tonight, he was different. You were determined, fierce, and he relished it. Somewhere between those moments, he discovered an unexpected peace at your side, sleep coming easily for the first time in years.

He awoke to find you smoking in the moonlight. Running a hand down your back, he smirked, voice a murmur, “You’re still sitting straight.” Pulling you into his lap, he took a drag of your cigarette, eyes glinting with challenge. “You’re something else, you know? But we’re far from done, mia cara. I need an heir, and it seems I’ll need to be more thorough.”