I Took The Bullet He Lost His Mind

"Someone as low as me?" I repeated the words, my voice soft.

The guests around us were watching, whispering.

"Isabella, I'm leaving tomorrow," I tried to explain. "The contract is—"

"Leaving?" Isabella cut me off, her voice sharp. "You think you can just walk away?"

She looked around, making sure she had an audience.

"Everyone, did you know? This Miss Elara actually thought she could compete with me, the real fiancée." She laughed mockingly. "A restorer who slept her way to the top, really thought she could become the Don's wife?"

The guests murmured, some shooting me looks of contempt.

"What's even funnier," Isabella went on, "is that she thought Dante would give up the alliance between our two families for her. What a joke!"

I felt their scornful gazes, but I was already numb.

"Are you finished?" I asked calmly.

"Not even close," Isabella's eyes flashed with malice. "I want everyone to know your real place in Dante's heart. You're worth less than a dog."

I turned and walked out of the ballroom.

No one stopped me.

Not even Dante.

Two hours later, I was in a taxi, watching the city lights blur past my window.

My suitcase was in the back seat, holding everything I owned.

A one-way ticket to California was in my hand.

"Almost there, miss," the driver said.

But the car suddenly turned down a deserted side street.

"This isn't the way to the airport," I said, suddenly on alert.

"Sorry, miss," the driver's voice went cold. "Someone wants to see you."

My heart pounded.

Was I being kidnapped?

The car stopped in front of an old apartment building.

Two men came out and opened my door.

"Get out," one of them said.

I was led into an apartment. It was simple, but clean.

A familiar figure was sitting in the living room.

Dante.

He was in a black shirt, looking exhausted.

"What are you doing here?" I asked coldly.

He stood up and walked toward me.

"Elara, we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about." I turned to leave. "Let me go."

He grabbed me from behind, holding me just like he used to.

"I did what I had to do," he murmured into my hair. His voice was rough. It wasn't an apology. It was a fact.

I struggled against him.

"Let me go!"

"Listen to me." He tightened his arms. "Isabella suspects us. If I had protected you, she would have told her father, and the alliance would be off."

"So what?"

"You don't get it." He turned me to face him, his grip bruising. "This isn't about feelings. It's about power. If the alliance breaks, it means war. My men die. Their families suffer."

I looked into his eyes.

"So you chose to sacrifice me."

"Not sacrifice. Protect." He stroked my cheek. "I found your plane ticket. You're going to California?"

My heart sank.

"That's my freedom."

"No, Elara." He shook his head. "You can quit. But you can't leave me."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm sending you to the West Coast estate," his finger traced my lips, "just like we talked about. You'll wait for me there."

"I'm not going." I pushed him away. "I don't love you anymore. I'm leaving for good, to start a new life."

His expression instantly turned dangerous.

"You don't love me?" he advanced on me. "Then why did you cry during the Russian Roulette?"

"I was scared!"

"No. You cried because you felt betrayed by me." He pinned me against the wall. "If you didn't love me, why would you feel betrayed?"

I couldn't answer.

His mouth crashed down on mine, silencing my protests.

The familiar, demanding kiss shattered my resolve.

"Don't..." I pushed against him, but my body betrayed me.

He lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom.

"Dante, don't do this..."

But he didn't stop.

He laid me on the bed, his eyes blazing with possession.

"You're mine, Elara," he said as he started to undress me. "You always will be."

I tried to fight, but five years of history and the familiar touch left me weak.

When he entered me, I closed my eyes.

He was rough, as if releasing all his anger and fear.

I knew this wasn't love. It was ownership.

After, he carried me to the bathroom.

The warm water washed over us as he gently cleaned me.

"I love you, Elara," he whispered against my ear. "I can't lose you."

I didn't answer.

Back in bed, he took a pair of handcuffs from the nightstand.

"What are you doing?" I asked in a panic.

"Making sure you don't run." He cuffed my right wrist to the iron headboard. "I'm arranging a plane to take you to the West Coast tomorrow."

I yanked at the cuff, furious.

"You're insane! What if Isabella finds out we're still seeing each other?"

"She won't find out," he said, lying down beside me. "The estate is secluded. I'll tell her you've left the country."

"And if she does find out?"

His expression hardened.

"Then you'll have to be smart enough not to ruin the alliance between our families."

I couldn't believe my ears.

"So that's the plan? I'm your dirty little secret? Your mistress in a gilded cage?"

"It's the only way," he said, his voice final. "This is our reality now, Elara. There is no other choice."

"You bastard!" I slapped his chest with my free hand.

"It's reality." He grabbed my hand.

I looked at him, the man I once loved so deeply.

He wanted to keep me as his canary, locked in a cage, never to see the light of day.

"I hate you," I spat.

"I know." He kissed my forehead. "But hate is better than losing you."

He fell asleep quickly.

I lay beside him, my right hand chained.

But I made a vow. The moment I got to the West Coast, I would escape.

No matter the cost.

Or maybe... maybe Antonio could help me.

The next morning, Dante uncuffed me.

"The plane takes off at nine," he said. "Antonio will go with you."

Of course he would.

I said nothing.

Two hours later, I was on Dante's private jet.

I looked at Antonio sitting across from me, and I smiled.

Dante didn't know that Antonio was an undercover agent for the rival Torrino family.

When I had decided to leave for good, he had approached me.

He had promised he could help me disappear with a new identity, and that I could continue my work under their protection.

It was time for him to make good on that promise.

In an hour, Dante would get the news.

Fiery crash. No survivors.

I looked out the window of a different plane, heading in a different direction.

And for the first time in months, I smiled.

A real smile.

The debt was paid.