Blood and Lies

Dante's Underground Club – The Lion's Den

Belle moved through the club with calculated ease, even as her pulse thrummed with tension.

The deeper she walked into this world, the more dangerous it became.

Dante's gaze followed her every move.

His smirk was lazy, but his eyes held sharp calculation. He was watching, waiting—ready to see if she would break.

Belle reached him and dipped her head slightly. "You called?"

Dante chuckled, low and dark. "I did. Sit."

He patted his lap.

A test. Again.

If she hesitated—if she so much as flinched—he would know.

So Belle didn't hesitate.

She sank onto his lap, feeling the solid strength of him beneath her, but keeping her posture composed.

Dante hummed in amusement, one arm curling around her waist. Possessive. Controlling. A show of power.

"You fit so easily," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. "Like you were made for me."

Belle forced a small smile, her fingers resting lightly on his forearm.

"Maybe I was," she whispered back.

Dante's grip tightened—just slightly. Just enough to let her know he heard her.

And then—

Someone laughed from across the room.

A deep, amused chuckle. One Belle hadn't heard in years.

Her body locked up.

Dante felt it.

His gaze flicked toward the source of her tension—

And so did hers.

Giovanni Russo.

One of her father's old allies. A man who had once knelt before the Romano family.

And now, here he was—laughing, drinking—alive.

Belle's blood ran cold.

Because if Giovanni was here—if he was working with Dante—

Then he had betrayed her family.

And worse?

He might recognize her.

Belle forced herself to breathe, forced herself to relax against Dante's hold. She couldn't let her panic show.

But Dante was too sharp. Too dangerous.

And he didn't miss a thing.

"Something wrong, Elena?"

Belle's lips parted, but before she could answer—

Dante's fingers slid beneath her chin, tilting her face to his.

His dark eyes burned into hers. Studying. Searching.

"You just got so tense," he murmured. "Did you see something you don't like?"

Belle's throat tightened.

She needed to play this carefully.

So she let out a soft laugh, lowering her lashes. "I was just thinking…"

Dante raised a brow. "About?"

She leaned in, her lips almost brushing his ear.

"That you like testing me."

Dante exhaled a short laugh, his grip on her both relaxed and unyielding.

"I do," he admitted.

Belle forced a smirk. "Then I should let you keep playing, shouldn't I?"

Dante's amusement flickered into something darker.

"You're dangerous, Elena."

Belle tilted her head slightly, meeting his gaze. "I thought that's what you liked about me."

Dante studied her for a long moment—then smirked.

"Careful," he murmured. "You might make me trust you."

Belle smiled.

But inside, her mind was racing.

Because Giovanni Russo was here.

And if he recognized her?

Everything would burn.