Chapter 29 My anxieties
Dante’s POV.
Rain rattled on the glass above my office windows. I didn’t really notice it at first.
I was so focused on my screen and the reports that were neatly stacked on the desk that had kept me occupied throughout the day.
But the way it paused slowly, the way it didn’t really stop rattling on the window, settled into my chest slowly, like a memory I couldn’t forget.
I looked at the city, the Gary sky under the storm and as lights blurred, reflecting on the whole streets.
It wasn’t something that was worth my attention. To every other person, it was normal. But to me, it felt heavy. Like it had always been.
Isla.
Her name came without thoughts. It came without a warning. I didn’t call it out loudly. I didn’t really need to, because I could feel her presence in everything I did, from the way she had carried herself in the meetings to the way she slid notes across my desk without glancing at me.
She was just too impossible for me to ignore.
I leaned back in my chair, resting my hand on the arms of the chair.
My grandfather’s desk was the bigger, coldest, and darker one.
I could still remember the first time I sat here after him alone, feeling the weight of the Romano name settle onto my shoulder.
I had thought I was ready. But I wasn’t. I had taken lives, yes. I had commanded, yes. But I wasn’t ready to feel something like this and keep it contained.
I had rules… I always had rules.
I never allow anyone to get too close. No one could threaten the balance I had built. No one could make me feel human because humans were weak.
But Isla, her calmness, her focus, and her quiet defiance… was already pulling these rules apart.
And I hated it. I still hated that I hated it.
She was dangerous in ways I didn’t want to admit. She didn’t demand anything. She didn’t beg. She didn’t even ask. She was just her. And because of that, I started craving for everything I had once told myself I would never want.
I could protect her, yes. I could guard her. I could make her safe. But the thought of her choosing someone else… even Damian, made the blood in my veins feel like fire.
And it wasn’t just fear… it was something darker, older, and harder to name.
I had never wanted anyone like this, not fully, not without calculation. With her, calculation failed.
I remembered storms, thunder tearing through the night when I was eight, when I lost my parents.
Water had poured in and the wind had howled, and I had been left with the silence that came afterward.
The first time I felt fear in my life, wasn’t the fear of pain or punishment, it was the fear of losing.
I was eight and too small to do anything but watch. I had sworn that I would never feel that again.
I had sworn that I would never let something I wanted destroy me. And yet, here I was, thinking about her, and feeling that old familiar knot in my chest.
I had fallen once, and it had really destroyed me.
I had given everything to someone who never understood. I gave too much and my love consumed her until she couldn’t resist and ran away.
And I had let her go, and the memory of that loss stayed with me like stitches in my own bone.
And now, Isla was here, I had to make a choice.
I could step closer, or I could step back. I would protect her, but will not cage her. This would be different from the last time.
I had learned something from that failure. Love will never survive without a choice, even if my hands were steady and my voice was soft.
I will not make this mistake again, not with her.
I rubbed my temples and looked down at the notes in front of me. Contracts, deals and risks. The mundane business of a man in my position.
I could handle any problem, any threat, any enemy… but her heart, and choice was untouchable.
Yet I still wanted it.
I wanted her decision, I wanted her trust. I wanted the whole of her, even though the past reminds me that I wouldn’t have it if I didn’t break her. Without damaging her like I had done before.
The memory came unannounced.
Her first laugh, light and unguarded, like a wind through the city alley.
The way her brow furrowed in concentration whenever she was working. The way she had adjusted a chair in the meeting room, effortlessly.
She was capable and she didn’t know how powerful that was.
I could feel Damian’s shadow too. He was always there, he was always looking.
He wanted her, he was trying to reach her, and she had been his… once, maybe.
But she was always mine, by contract and the pulse I could feel in my chest whenever she was around.
I moved my hand to the stack of folders. I didn’t need them, I just touched them because I needed something physical, something tangible.
Anything to focus on. But every time I glanced toward the corner of the office, I imagined her there, calm and steady, unaware of what she was doing to me.
I had to remind myself to remain restrained.
I had rules, I had limits, and I would not cross them… not yet.
And yet, I knew I was already bending. I was already bending toward her in a way I didn’t allow myself toward anyone.
The phone buzzed… it was my assistant.
“Sir,” he said, voice careful. “She got a call from family. She stepped out of the meeting twice.”
I didn’t respond, my jaw tightened.
“Shall I Intervene?” He asked.
No. Not yet. I wanted to see how she handled it herself. I wanted to see her strength. I wanted to see if she would break.
And if she did, I would be there. Not to punish, but to protect.
“I’ll handle it,” I said finally.
He nodded, understanding. He knew the tone. And also knew no one had ever questioned it.
I returned my gaze to the window. The rain had slowed, leaving the streets wet, and dark reflection flickering the glass.
I imagined her there, walking through it alone, confident, vulnerable, and everything at once.
And I realized something else.
I wanted her to see me as she did to the others. I wanted her to see that I could shield her without making her weaker.
That I could care without trapping. And I could present without demanding.
It terrified me because I had never done that before.
Never with anyone. Never without obsession.
Never without possession.
Never with someone who mattered enough to break the rules I had spent my life building.
She was risk, and I was all in it.
I imagined the moments she had glanced at me today, subtle cheeks, pauses.
The way she had held a folder a little tighter when Damian’s name came up in the conversation.
The way she had not leaned into my space and didn’t pull away either.
Small choices that proved to me she was learning her own power.
And yet she was still mine in ways that mattered.
I could feel the weight of the Romano legacy pressing down behind me.
The blood spilled, the men I had commanded, and the enemies I had made.
The ruthlessness that had carved this empire from the ashes of my family.
I had survived storms. I had survived betrayals. I had survived fear itself. But she… made me feel something older.
Something dangerous that could undo everything.
I picked a pen and stared at it. Nothing moved. I didn’t write anything. I just sat there and thought about her.
About the history that made me what I was. About yhe future I wanted and someone that I feared.
I would not fail again.
I had failed before. I had given too much. Demanded too much. And lost everything that mattered.
She would not be casualty in my past.
I would bend myself around her, to match her. To mirror her choices and to meet her in every step.
I wanted her to choose me too, not because I’m inevitable, but because she could.
Because she saw me as more than a shadow of my family, more than the man I had been, more than the violence I had carried like a second skin.
Because I could show her what it meant to be safe and wanted at the same time.
The rain had stopped. Light seeped through the clouds, thin and fragile. I imagined her outside in it. Not afraid… just alive, breathing and capable.
I leaned back in my chair. My hand spread over the arms, steady now, controlled. I allowed a small thought in my head. She could break me and I would let her.
I would let her see me, all of me. Not the boss or the man with power. Not the twin or the shadow of Damian.
And I was terrified.
Because for the first time in my life, I wanted someone without condition, and calculation.
I closed my eyes, imagining the storm that would come later.
Imagining her choice and the risk represented. And I knew beyond reason, beyond control and strategy, that the man she had awakened in me was far too gone to be contained.
And I welcomed it. Because she was worth the fall. Because she was worth the storm. Because she was worth everything I had ever feared losing.
And for the first time in years, I let myself feel it.
And that was enough.