Dressed for the Kill

Virello Estate – Private Dressing Room

Belle stood before a grand mirror, her reflection both foreign and dangerous.

The simple maid uniform was gone. In its place, a sleek black gown hugged her figure, the fabric smooth as silk, the slit daringly high, exposing just enough to command attention.

It was a dress designed for power. For control.

And she hated it.

Because tonight, Dante Castellano was making her a part of his world.

"You clean up well."

Belle turned her head slightly, meeting Marcella DeLuca's gaze through the mirror. The assassin leaned against the dressing room wall, arms crossed, watching with that same unreadable expression.

"What does he want?" Belle asked quietly.

Marcella's lips curved. "Dante always gets what he wants. The real question is—do you?"

Belle clenched her jaw. This was a game. But she wasn't playing just to survive. She had her own reasons, her own mission.

But tonight, she would have to be careful.

Marcella pushed off the wall and walked over, reaching into a small velvet box on the table. She pulled out a delicate chain—a necklace, adorned with a single sapphire.

"Put it on."

Belle didn't move.

Marcella smirked. "He won't like it if you refuse."

Belle took the necklace with steady fingers, fastening it around her throat.

The weight of it felt heavier than it should.

Because she knew what this was.

A leash.

A claim.

And Dante Castellano was marking her as his, in front of the entire underworld.

---

Meanwhile – Dante's Office

Dante stood by the large window, watching the estate below as his men finalized security for the gala. His expression was unreadable, but his mind was sharp, calculating.

The maid—Elena—was becoming a problem.

A problem he didn't want to get rid of just yet.

He had spent years learning to read people, to spot lies before they even left a person's lips. And Elena was a liar.

She wasn't a simple maid. Her hands were too steady, her movements too precise. She was trained. But for what?

And then there was the note.

Someone else was watching her. Someone who knew what he was starting to suspect.

Dante smirked. This was getting interesting.

The door opened behind him.

"She's ready," Marcella said.

Dante turned, and when he saw her—he almost laughed.

Because she wasn't just ready.

She was dangerous.

His maid had just become the most intriguing woman in the room.

And tonight, he would find out exactly who she really was.