Chapter 61 Chapter 61

Chapter 61 Chapter 61
Belladonna
The holiday season is over, and the university halls feel strangely quiet now. Today is my last final exam. I pull on a set of soft pink joggers, sling my bag over my shoulder, and step outside. Enzo is waiting with the car, like always. He insists on driving me so I can revise instead of wasting time behind the wheel.
I sit in the passenger seat, scrolling through my notes on the iPad, my eyes running over lines I already know by heart. Enzo doesn’t talk much; he lets me focus. Soon we pull up at the university gates, and I step out, thanking him with a small nod before heading inside.
The exam room feels cold, the walls blank, the fluorescent lights buzzing above. I sit down, my pen tapping lightly against the desk. Once the paper lands in front of me, everything flows. All the answers are fresh in my mind. My hand flies across the sheet, jotting down each response with precision until, finally, I’m done.
With a deep breath, I walk out. My stomach growls, so I head to the cafeteria. I buy a simple sandwich, nothing fancy, and sit alone in the canteen. The room is filled with chatter and laughter, groups of students clustered together, but I don’t join them. I never do. I don’t make friends here. They all know who I am, or at least, who my family is. My name carries weight, and it creates distance. Fear lingers in their eyes when they glance my way.
Lily used to be the only one by my side, my best friend. But she isn’t at the university anymore. So now, it’s just me and my sandwich, silence wrapping around me like a second skin.
I take out my phone. I text my brother to come pick me up. Minutes pass, but no reply comes. I frown, tap the screen again, but still nothing.
Then my phone lights up with an incoming call. My breath hitches when I see the name—Dante. Why is he calling me?
I hesitate, then answer.
“What do you want?” My voice is sharp.
“I’m waiting for you in the parking, hurry up,” he says smoothly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
My brows knit together. “Why? Where is my brother?” I ask, already slinging my bag over my shoulder and pushing back my chair.
“Busy,” he replies shortly.
I stop in my tracks, heat rising in my chest. “I don’t want to go with you.”
“Do you have a choice?” His tone drips with amusement. Before I can answer, I hang up the call, my jaw tightening.
I step outside, the cold air hitting me instantly. It doesn’t take long to spot his car. Sleek, dark, impossible to miss. People around the parking lot slow down, whispering, staring. Of course they are. Everyone notices when Dante Mancini makes an appearance.
The car door swings open, and he steps out. He’s dressed in a sharp black suit, his movements casual but commanding. Without a word, he opens the passenger door for me, waiting. His eyes meet mine, unreadable.
I don’t want this. I don’t want him. But I still get in, tossing my bag carelessly into the backseat. Dante circles the car and slides into the driver’s seat.
“What are you?” I ask coldly, my irritation already spilling over. “My driver now?”
He smirks faintly, eyes on the road as he starts the engine. “You would want me to be your driver.” His voice is teasing, almost playful.
I bite into the remains of my sandwich, crumbs scattering onto the leather seat. I know he notices—he always notices—but he says nothing, though the corner of his jaw tightens.
“No,” I mutter sharply, “I don’t want a single glance of you in my life.”
“Okay,” he chuckles, a low sound that makes my skin prickle.
The car roars as he presses down on the accelerator, weaving through traffic at full speed. My stomach drops with every sharp turn.
“Are you trying to kill me now?” I snap, gripping the handle.
“No, Bella. I’m just in a rush.” His voice is calm, too calm, as he shifts his phone into one hand and keeps driving with the other. His words fall casually, but heavy. “The Bratva is planning something again, and I have to get to the Godfather’s place.”
Before I can respond, his phone rings. He answers immediately.
“I’m going to drop Belladonna home, then I’ll be there. Now? … Okay, fine.” His jaw flexes as he hangs up, and I already know what he’s about to say.
“Sorry,” he mutters, eyes fixed ahead. “But you’ll have to come with me to the Godfather’s place. I don’t have time right now. He needs me.”
I fold my arms across my chest, exhaling sharply. “Okay, fine.”
But inside, my pulse is unsteady. Because with Dante, nothing ever feels simple.
I watch Dante pull up in front of the Godfather’s Roman mansion. The place is enormous, all marble and lights reflecting off the columns. He kills the engine and turns to me. “Stay here. I’ll finish the meeting and be right back,” he says, his voice calm but sharp. Before I can protest, he grabs the keys, locks the doors, and strides into the mansion.
I sit in the BMW, heart pounding. On the other side of the driveway, I notice several luxurious cars parked—expensive black SUVs, sleek sedans, clearly important people are inside. I scroll through my phone, trying to calm myself, but twenty minutes later, a loud bang echoes from inside the mansion. My chest tightens, and panic rises. Screams follow, then the unmistakable sharp cracks of gunfire.
The car doors unlock automatically. I look around frantically, searching for Dante, and finally spot him on the balcony. “Belladonna!” he shouts, tossing the car key toward me. I catch it instinctively. His eyes are wide, urgent, and there’s a gun in his hand.
“Go! Take Lily home! She’s in danger. I’ll text you the location,” he orders, voice tense, rushing as if every second counts. I slide into the driver’s seat, hands gripping the wheel, and start the engine. The BMW roars to life, and I speed downtown, ignoring red lights, weaving through traffic as adrenaline surges through me.
Finally, I reach Lily’s new house. I don’t even turn off the engine. I jump out and rush inside. “Lily!” I shout.
She comes running down the stairs, her eyes wide. “What happened, Bella?”
I grab her hands, pulling her close. “Let’s go. Your life is in danger.” I lock the door behind us, making sure it’s secure, and guide her backto the car. She sits, trembling, and I start the engine again, tires screeching as I leave the property.
“Even I don’t know exactly what happened,” I explain as I drive. “Dante came to pick me up, said he had something urgent at the Godfather’s mansion… then there was a loud bang, and he just gave me the keys and told me to get you out.”
Lily’s eyes widen. “Was Sebastian there?” she asks, fear threading her voice.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see him,” I admit.
“Oh god,” she whispers, curling slightly in her seat. “I just hope everything is fine.”
I glance at my phone. A notification from Dante lights up the screen. He’s sent the safe house location. I plug it into the GPS and floor the accelerator.
“Don’t worry, Lily. Nothing will happen to Sebastian,” I assure her. She nods, but the fear hasn’t fully left her eyes.
We arrive at a secluded safe house tucked away from the city. Two men are already stationed outside, alert and armed. I pull the car into the garage and guide Lily inside. Moments later, another black car pulls up. Sebastian steps out, and Lily runs to him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him frantically. I sigh quietly, watching the reunion, feeling a mix of relief and tension.
Inside, Sebastian explains the situation. The Russian mafia is targeting Lily’s baby. They want to start a war. Lily curls into his lap on the couch, seeking comfort. I sit opposite them, tense and alert, absorbing every detail.
Suddenly, another car pulls up outside. Dante rushes in, his eyes scanning me immediately. “Are you okay?” he asks, concern in every line of his face. He studies me carefully, searching for any signs of injury.
“I’m fine,” I reply, though my pulse is still racing. “But you’re hurt.”
He glances down at his hand. A cut bleeds steadily, the red stark against his skin. “That’s fine. I just needed to make sure you were okay first,” he says, and my heart skips a beat at the care in his tone.
“Is there a first aid kit in the house?” I ask quickly.
Sebastian points toward the kitchen. “Second drawer,” he says.
I rush to the kitchen, grab the kit, and return to Dante. I carefully clean his wound, pressing a sterile cloth to stop the bleeding. Then I wrap a plaster around it, making sure it’s secure.
Dante watches silently, his gaze softening slightly as I work. I finish applying the plaster on Dante’s hand, pressing it firmly so the bleeding stops. He flexes his fingers, testing the movement, then looks at me and says, “Let’s go. I’ll drop you home.” His voice is calm but carries that underlying tension I’ve come to recognize.
I nod, feeling the weight of the day’s chaos still in my chest. “I can drive since your hand is injured,” I tell him, trying to sound steady.
“Okay,” he replies, simply, without arguing, his usual sharp edge softened for the moment.
I turn to Lily, who sits quietly on the couch, still holding onto Sebastian’s arm. I pull her into a quick hug, whispering, “Call me whenever you need help. Don’t hesitate, okay?”
She nods, her eyes wide but grateful. “I will, Bella. Thank you.”
I slide into the driver’s seat, hands gripping the wheel as my pulse gradually starts to slow. I can feel Dante’s eyes on me from the passenger seat, that intense, calculating gaze that makes me simultaneously nervous and furious. I ignore it, focusing on the road, though my heart can’t quite stop reacting to his presence.
We drive in silence, the city lights casting fleeting reflections on the windshield. The air between us is heavy but not unpleasant, just charged, tense, alive. I keep my eyes on the road, but I feel him watching every movement, every small shift of my hands on the wheel.
Finally, we reach my house. I park quickly, still tense, and glance at him as he steps out. Without a word, he opens the driver’s side, slides in, and starts the engine. I watch as the BMW glides away into the night, leaving me standing in my driveway, my heartbeat slowly returning to normal.
Even though he’s gone, I can still feel the lingering weight of his gaze on me, a reminder that nothing between us is ever simple, and that Dante Manchini doesn’t let anything, or anyone, go easily.