Dante’s mouth curved without warmth.
“Money opens doors. Fear keeps them open.”
I should have been frightened.
Part of me was.
But fear had lived inside me for so long that I recognized its shapes. The fear I felt with Julian was a locked room. The fear I felt with Dante was standing near a storm and knowing it could level the city, but for now, it was facing the other direction.
We reached St. Aurelia Medical Center through a private entrance.
Dante stepped out first, scanning the shadows. His men moved like they knew every corner before entering it. He offered me his hand again.
Only offered.
I took it.
The moment my heels touched pavement, cold rain soaked the hem of my dress. I did not care. I gathered the skirt in both hands and ran.
Inside, the hospital smelled of antiseptic, old coffee, and flowers that had begun to die in their vases. A nurse glanced up, saw Dante, and immediately looked back down.
We took a service elevator.
My reflection stared back from the metal doors.
Bride. Ghost. Fool.
Dante stood beside me like a dark mark cut into the world.
“Why did you come to the wedding?” I asked.
“Because Julian planned to move Miles tonight.”
The elevator hummed upward.
“And because of me?”
He did not answer fast enough.
I looked at him.
“What am I to you, Dante Romano?”
For the first time, his composure cracked. Only slightly. A flicker in the eyes. A tightening at the corner of his mouth.
“A complication.”
“That’s romantic.”
“I am not a romantic man.”
“No,” I said. “You’re a man who storms weddings with secret contracts.”
The elevator opened before he could respond.
Miles’s room was guarded.
Not by hospital security.
By Dante’s men.
One of them opened the door.
Miles was awake.
He looked smaller than I remembered, swallowed by white sheets and wires, but his eyes lit when he saw me.
“Serena?”
I crossed the room too quickly and nearly tripped on my dress. I caught myself on the bedrail, then wrapped my arms around him as carefully as I could.
He smelled like hospital soap and peppermint gum.
“You look ridiculous,” he murmured.
I laughed and cried into his shoulder.
“So do you.”
“Did you get married?”