Chapter 4: A Morning of Revelation

*Layla*

I woke up in a room that was unfamiliar to me, the events of the previous night slowly coming back in hazy fragments. The soft, luxurious sheets beneath me and the faint scent of his cologne on the pillow beside me were the first reminders of where I was–in the safe house guest room.

I sat up, my head spinning with a mix of emotions. Pleasure, certainly–the memory of his touch, his kiss–sent a shiver down my spine. But there was also fear, guilt, and a heavy dose of uncertainty. 

What had I done?

I slipped out of bed and padded softly through the house, taking in the luxurious but impersonal decor. The place felt more like a high-end hotel–beautiful, but cold. I wondered what it said about the man who lived here.

I found him in the kitchen, preparing what looked like a gourmet breakfast. He looked up when I entered, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Good morning," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I hope you're hungry."

We sat at the table, an array of delicious food before us. But despite the mouth watering spread, I found it hard to eat. Every bite felt like a stone in my stomach as I grappled with the reality of my situation.

I tried to subtly probe him for information about his identity. I took a sip of my coffee, trying to appear nonchalant as I studied him over the rim of my mug. "So, what do you do for a living?" I asked, keeping my tone light and conversational.

He smiled, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, a little bit of everything," he replied with a wink. "I like to stay diversified and keep my options open."

I raised an eyebrow, not satisfied with his vague answer. "That sounds mysterious," I teased, setting my mug down. "Come on, you can tell me. Are you a spy? A secret agent?" I asked, indicating his need for a safe house. 

He laughed, shaking his head. "Nothing quite so exciting, I'm afraid. Let's just say I'm in the business of...problem-solving."

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand. "Problem-solving, huh? That could mean a lot of things."

"Indeed it could," he agreed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But I've found that discretion is what keeps my business going."

“So, you’re not going to tell me your name.”

"Maybe I should keep it a secret forever," he said with a playful smile. "A little mystery keeps things interesting, don't you think?"

I was both frustrated and intrigued by his refusal to share. 

I tried a different tack, deciding to ask about his personal life instead. "What about your family? Do you have any siblings?"

Dante's expression shifted slightly, becoming more guarded. "I have a daughter," he answered after a moment. "She's my world."

I nodded, filing away this piece of information. "That's lovely. And her mother?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Not in the picture. It's just me and my girl."

I could tell he was getting uncomfortable with my line of questioning, so I decided to back off for now. "She's lucky to have you," I said sincerely.

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I do my best. But enough about me. Tell me more about you, Layla. What brings a beautiful woman like yourself into my orbit?" 

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting to something more tender.

"Excuse me, I need to take this. It’s my daughter," he explained, stepping away from the table.

I couldn't help but overhear bits of the conversation. His voice was low and urgent, and he seemed to be discussing some kind of business deal. But it was the name that caught my attention–Sophia.

"Don't worry, Sophia, I'll handle it," he said. "I'll be there soon."

As he hung up, I felt a chill run down my spine. Sophia... 

The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity.

“Are you Sophia DeLuca’s father? You're Dante DeLuca?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. 

Dante looked at me, his expression unreadable. "Yes." 

This was bad. This was really bad.

Shit!

I felt like the ground had shifted beneath my feet. The man I'd been sent to spy on, the man I'd been growing dangerously close to, was none other than the head of the DeLuca crime family.

I thought of my mission, of the danger I was in, and suddenly the romantic haze of the night before evaporated, replaced by cold, hard reality. I became quiet, my mind racing with the implications of this revelation.

Dante seemed to sense my unease. "I see my reputation precedes me. Layla..." he continued, but I cut him off.

"I should go," I said, standing abruptly. "Thank you for breakfast."

I left before he could respond, my heart pounding and my mind reeling. Everything had changed, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to face the consequences of my actions.

Dante arranged for a driver to take me home. I was torn. Part of me wanted to run away and never look back, but another part was drawn to him in a way I couldn't explain, even with the knowledge of who he really was.

When I got home, I hastily opened the door to my apartment, slamming it shut and locking it behind me, hoping to just get in a hot shower and wash away everything about the night before. But as soon as I stepped into my living room, I found myself face to face with a seething Marco.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, his voice tight with anger. He was standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes blazing with fury.

I thought about the car chase from the night before and wondered if it hadn’t been Anton following us after all… If not, then Marco wouldn’t know I was with Danta DeLuca.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my expression neutral. "I stayed with a friend last night," I replied, moving past him to set my purse down on the counter. "After the event."

Marco scoffed, following me into the kitchen. "A friend? What friend?"

I busied myself with putting on a pot of coffee, avoiding his gaze. "Just someone I ran into while I was there. I would have told Anton, but he disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Marco repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Layla, he tried calling you all night. You’re the one who disappeared without a word, without checking in."

I finally turned to face him, meeting his accusing stare head-on. "I'm sorry, Marco. My phone died and I didn't have a charger. It won't happen again."

In an instant, he was in front of me and his hand flew across my cheek. An explosion of pain coursed over my face and I stumbled back, too shocked to think, let alone speak. 

He stepped closer, gripping my arm as he forced me back into a wall. I clenched my fists and stared at his narrowing eyes. "You're lying, and I don’t like lying bitches. Just ask your mother," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Where the fuck where you?”

I felt a flicker of fear, but I pushed it down, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "I'm not hiding anything," I insisted, my voice steady. "I told you, I was with a friend."

Marco shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "A friend. Right. And I suppose this friend just happened to have DeLuca’s limo take you to a little out of the way place?"

I felt my cheeks flush, but I kept my expression neutral. "It's not like that. I didn’t know it was DeLuca… We just talked."

"Talked," Marco repeated, his voice dripping with disbelief. "Do you think I'm an idiot, Layla? Do you think I don't know what happened? That I can see it all over you?"

I squared my shoulders, meeting his gaze directly. "I think you're overreacting," I said firmly. "I was doing my job, Marco. Making connections, gathering information. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

“Then why lie about it? Why hide it?”

He stared at me for a long moment, his jaw clenched tight. "I wanted you to get close to Sophia, and get to him though her," he said finally, his voice cold. "I never thought he would set his sights on you."

I flinched at the way he said those words, so condescending and derisive.

"It was just one night," I argued through gritted teeth. "And I am getting close to Sophia. But these things take time. I can't just snap my fingers and make her trust me."

Marco's eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, I thought he might strike me again. But instead, he turned away, finally releasing his vice-like grip on my arm. 

“In light of what happened with DeLuca last night, I'm shifting your focus. No need to target Sophia, I want you to get close to Dante and learn his secrets first hand."

I felt a chill run down my spine at his words. I swallowed hard, my mind racing with the implications of his request. Getting close to Dante meant truly entering his world, becoming a part of his life. It meant lying to him, and eventually betraying his trust. The thought made me feel sick to my stomach.

"I don't know if I can do that," I whispered. "It's too risky. If he finds out..."

Marco leaned forward, his eyes hard and cold. "You don't have a choice, Layla. Or have you forgotten what's at stake here?"

I closed my eyes, feeling my cheek still burning from his slap, the image of my mother's bruised face flashing through my mind. I knew I had to do whatever it took to keep her safe, even if it meant risking my life and sacrificing my own soul in the process.

"I haven't forgotten," I said, my voice hollow. "I'll do it. I'll get close to Dante."

When Marco finally left my apartment, I made a beeline for the shower. My tears mixed with the water as I thought of every tender moment I’d had with Dante the night before. His warm brown eyes and powerfully strong embrace. He had done nothing but be nice and protective of me. 

Before I knew who he was, I’d allowed myself to imagine that maybe a man like him could keep me and my mother safe. But that had been nothing but a stupid fantasy.

The water turned cold before my tears subsided, but the cold helped to shock me out of my despair. I had to play the part for now, but I didn’t have to play Marco’s game. I would get me and my mother away from this nightmare. 

My father once had friends that he trusted, perhaps I could trust them too. I hurried to dry off and dress. But when I opened the door to leave, I found Anton standing there, waiting for me and holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.