Mia

"Papa, I'm going out," I announce, sliding on my heels.

My father comes to the door of his office, frowning at me. "Not tonight, Mia," he says in a demanding voice that tells me I'm not going anywhere.

I deflate, finishing putting on my shoes, hoping against hope that something changes and I get to go out with my friends.

It's my best friend's birthday, and I really don't want to miss her party.

"Why not?" I ask and I know there's an edge to my voice. I don't ask for much, I really don't, and my father usually dotes on me, so I'm sure he has a very good reason for wanting to keep me home.

"Because we're having company for dinner," Papa says, gesturing for me to come into his office."

I do as he says and I sit down in the chair across from the desk, huffing out a breath.

"Why do you need me there for a business dinner?" I ask.

"Because Dante Ricci has requested your presence."

I sit straight up where I'd been slumping. "Dante? What could he want me there for?" I ask out loud, my heart beating too quickly in my chest.

"I don't know, Mia. But he saved your life, you know? Plus, he just lost his father. We owe him at least a dinner."

I nod, thinking that this might be better than any night out with my friends I could have imagined.

Dante Ricci is a god of a man, standing over a foot taller than my five-foot-two frame, broad shoulders, muscular back...these piercing hazel eyes and dark hair that he lets grow too long. I haven't seen him, other than just in passing at events, since I was seventeen.

I'd been just a kid, so of course I'd developed a crush on him. Who wouldn't? He'd been so brave, stepping in front of a bullet for me. I guess not much has changed in four years, given that my heart is doing backflips in my chest.

I can't wait to see Dante, and I smile at my father.

"I'll be there," I say, not wanting to appear too eager. But when I leave his office, I all but sprint upstairs to my room to change.

I don't want to wear a club dress when Dante's father has just died. They haven't had a service, yet, but all the mafioso will be invited, of course.

I'm glad that I'll get to see Dante before the ceremony, something less formal.

I change my dress about four times before settling on a sky-blue, low-cut number, not quite an evening gown but a little more than a cocktail dress. The blue looks good with my auburn hair, and it matches my eyes.

The cook is making veal chops for dinner and my mouth waters as she starts to cook them. I know I've put on a few pounds recently because I've been staying home too much, which is one of the reasons I was trying to get out of the house.

My dress fits a little tighter than expected and I keep pulling it down to cover more of my thick thighs, frowning.

Dante is half an hour late, and I'm a little annoyed but it's okay because Elena, our cook, has made us peppermint tea (she says it aids digestion) and I'm sipping it when our butler, Charles, announces, "Dante Ricci," and bows as Dante walks in the room. Dante smiles at Charles and all the air goes out of my lungs in a whoosh.

While I've been gaining weight the past four years, Dante has just been getting more attractive. There are a few lines around his eyes that just add to his rugged good looks, and there's stubble across his jaw, a little darker-colored than the hair on his head.

He's wearing an obviously tailored suit, and he takes off his jacket and sits it on his chair before sitting down, across from me. He looks right into my face and I freeze. I think this is the first time he's actually acknowledged me since the day he saved me.

"Hello, Mia. You're looking beautiful, as always," he says in a low, charming tone, and I can't help but smile at him.

"You look well, too, Dante." I pause. "I was so sorry to hear about your father. He was always kind to me."

I didn't know Dante's father that well, but Enzo had been kind to me on that day.

Suddenly, I'm no longer sitting at the dining table. I'm back there again. Back in the day where nearly everything changed for me.

I dropped to the ground, hiding under someone's desk. We were at a dinner party, and I didn't remember nor did I really care whose party it was.I'd never even seen a shootout, much less been involved in one, and my heart felt like it was going to climb out of my mouth.

I wasn't breathing well, hyperventilating and looking everywhere for my father.

"Hey, hold up!" a voice yelled from behind me and I whirled around to see Dante, holding his hands up. "You fucking idiots, there are children here!"

He walked toward the gunfire as I was trying to crawl away, kicking one of the shooter's legs out from under him.

I remembered thinking, even in my terrified haze, that he was awfully brave.

I turned slightly when the gunfire died down but the other guy kept shooting and bullets were whizzing by my head.

Dante ducked, crouching in front of me and grunting out when a bullet grazed his bicep.

"Are you okay, pretty girl?" he asked, and I looked up at him with wide eyes, terrified. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't do anything but stare at him as my heart seemed to seize up in my chest.

Dante put both his hands on my shoulders. "Breathe, kiddo. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow, yeah?"

I did as he said and I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn't see the blood trailing down his arm.

When I opened my eyes, Dante picked me up, bridal style, and carried me to my father, who took me from his arms and squeezed me tight.

"She'll be okay," Dante said, his voice tight with pain as he grimaced and looked at the wound on his arm.

"Dante, I can never repay you?—"

"Forget it," Dante said harshly, leaving the room, and that was the last time I'd spoken to Dante Ricci.

I shake myself from the memory.

Later, I found out that it was just a stupid fight two cousins had over a girl, and it wasn't anything important to the mafioso at large. Luckily, no one was killed. I never did find out what punishment my father put on those boys, but I never saw them again, so I could assume it wasn't good.

"Thank you," Dante says easily, his smile fading. "You and your family are of course, invited to the service."

My father pipes up then. "When is the service, Dante?"

Dante shrugs. "Not sure yet. Waiting on the autopsy."

I hum in the back of my throat. I know that in our lifestyle, autopsies aren't performed very often. My heart goes out to Dante. I don't know how his dad died, but I can only assume it wasn't natural causes.

"Do you have any ideas about who did it?" my father asks, and Dante shoots him a look, something flashing in his hazel eyes.

"A couple. And the forensics from the autopsy will help clear any lingering doubts," he says, his voice low. "But let's not talk about such things at dinner." He smiles at me again, showing even, white teeth.

It's almost a predatory smile, and I'm not sure how to take it, so I clear my throat, blushing and looking down at my hands as Elena starts to serve the first course, some bone broth and fresh Italian bread.

Dante eats well, dipping his bread into the broth and praising Elena for her efforts, and she smiles at him brightly before heading back into the kitchen to finish up the main course.

"You've got quite a chef," Dante says, and my father smiles.

"She's been in the family for thirty years," he says.

Dante nods. "We have a housekeeper that's been with us quite a while," he says. "She's taken to bed since Papa died."

My father sighs. "Surely you know that she was also his mistress?"

Dante raises an eyebrow. "Of course I did, but I'm surprised that you know."

My father chuckles. "I knew Enzo better than you think, son."

Dante stiffens just slightly at the way my father called him son, and I feel something tight starting in my throat.

During my life, I've had dinners with lots of dangerous men, some that even wanted to court me, but my father has always been protective, and he's kept me away from the most dangerous men.

Dante Ricci has a reputation, with women and with the law, having been arrested several times but getting off because of his excellent lawyer. Is Dante one of those dangerous men my father has been trying to keep me way from?

"What brings you to dinner tonight?" Papa asks, and Dante smiles, loosening up.

"A list of my father's last wishes in his will. There's one I need to discuss with you." Dante turns his gaze to me and I'm all but paralyzed by those hazel eyes of his. "And you, Mia."

"Me?" I put my napkin down in my lap, finishing chewing the bit of bread in my mouth.

"My father wants you to be my wife," he says, looking deeply into my eyes, and I choke even though there's nothing in my mouth.