Twisted Loyalty

Chapter 5: Bang

Sienna

The noise of the party swirls around me as I make my way back downstairs. The grand hall is alive with the sound of laughter, conversation, and the clinking of glasses. Everyone is here to celebrate—celebrate my engagement, celebrate the alliances forged in blood and wealth. And I'm the centerpiece, paraded around, tied neatly to Enzo's side with a ring that feels more like a shackle than a symbol of love.

I force a smile, slipping back into my role as the obedient daughter, the perfect fiancée. Enzo's hand is once again on the small of my back, his fingers possessive, a reminder that I'm no longer just Luca's daughter. Now, I belong to him. But the thought only makes my stomach twist.

"You took your time," Enzo murmurs, his voice a low growl. He doesn't bother to look at me, his eyes still scanning the crowd, but the annoyance in his tone is unmistakable.

"I wasn't feeling well," I lie, my voice smooth and practiced. "I needed a moment."

"Needed a moment?" he repeats, his grip tightening slightly on my waist. "You'll have to get used to this, dolcezza. You don't get to take breaks anymore."

His words make my skin crawl, but I keep my expression neutral, offering him a small nod. I can't afford to show weakness, not here, not now. So, I stand beside him, pretending that I'm okay, pretending that I'm not suffocating under the weight of it all. The crowd moves around us, people congratulating me, complimenting the engagement ring—a gaudy, oversized thing that sparkles under the chandelier but feels like a chain wrapped around my finger.

Enzo leans in close, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You looked beautiful up there tonight," he says. "But then again, you always do. Makes things easier, doesn't it?"

I suppress the urge to pull away. He's not complimenting me; he's admiring his property.

Before I can respond, there's a shift in the room. I notice the two guards approaching Luca first, their expressions serious. They lean in to whisper something to him, and I see the way his jaw tightens. Whatever it is, it's bad. I feel Enzo stiffen beside me, his eyes narrowing.

One of the guards moves closer to Enzo, muttering something under his breath. I can't hear the words, but I don't need to. The change in Enzo's demeanor is enough. His hand clenches into a fist, his entire body coiling with tension.

"What is it?" I ask softly, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Dante Costa," Enzo spits the name like it's poison, his eyes narrowing. "He hit one of my casinos near the docks."

My heart skips a beat at the mention of Dante, my pulse quickening. I glance toward Luca, whose face remains stone cold, but I can see the fury in his eyes. Dante wasn't just sending a message to Enzo—this was directed at my father, too.

"That bastard," Luca mutters under his breath, his voice low but filled with disdain. "He's always been a thorn in my side. He thinks he can get away with this? Hit your casino? Costa's getting too bold."

"Bold?" Enzo snarls. "He's reckless. Always has been. He's nothing but a thug pretending to be something more. He'll never be anything but a street rat."

The words grate against my skin. I want to defend Dante, but I can't. Not here. Not now. I glance around the room, scanning the crowd, my heart racing as I search for him. If Dante is behind this, is he here? Watching? Waiting? But I can't see him. He's gone, slipped away like a shadow.

"Luca," Enzo continues, his voice tight with barely contained rage. "We need to handle this."

Luca nods, his expression dark. "We will. But not here. We'll deal with Costa on our terms."

Enzo releases me, stepping away to join the conversation with Luca and the guards. "Take her upstairs," he orders one of the guards without even looking at me. "She doesn't need to be here for this."

I nod quietly, relieved to be free of Enzo's grip, and make my way back to my room. But as I walk through the grand hall, I can't stop thinking about Dante. About the way he looked at me earlier tonight. About the way he invaded my space, making me feel things I didn't want to feel.

Once I'm back in my room, I close the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment as I try to catch my breath. The air feels heavy, thick with the weight of the evening's events. I move to the bed and sit down, my mind still racing. My fingers absentmindedly trace the edge of the ring on my finger, the cold metal reminding me of the cage I'm trapped in.

Then my phone buzzes on the nightstand.

I reach for it, my heart already pounding as I see the message from an unknown number. I don't need to guess who it is. I already know.

Don't forget what I said.

A shiver runs through me. Dante. I should delete the message. Block the number. But I don't. Instead, I find myself typing a response.

Why are you doing this?

The reply comes almost instantly.

Because I'm not like them. And neither are you.

His words make my breath hitch. My fingers hover over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. I want to argue, to tell him he's wrong, but deep down, I know there's truth in what he's saying. I'm not like them. I never have been.

What do you want, Dante?

Right now? To remind you of how fucking good you looked tonight. To make you think of me.

Heat rushes to my face, my pulse quickening at his words. Stop.

Stop what, Little Flame? His reply is quick, teasing. Stop making you blush? Or stop making you wonder what would've happened if I hadn't left your room?

I swallow hard, my heart racing. You're impossible.

His response is slower this time, deliberate.

And you're irresistible. You already know that.

My stomach tightens, my body reacting to his words in ways I don't want to admit. I should hate you.

I know. But you don't. Do you?

I hesitate, the truth burning in my chest. I don't hate him. I should. But I don't.

You should get some sleep, Little Flame.

I'm not tired.

There's a long pause before his reply comes in, commanding.

Go to sleep, Sienna. Now.

I bite my lip, the heat in his words making my pulse race. Dante...

Now. His next message is firm, no room for argument. Be a good girl and go to bed.

The moment I read the words, my breath catches. Something dark and thrilling stirs deep inside me. The way he said it, the way he commanded me—it sends a shiver down my spine. My body responds before my mind can catch up, my fingers trembling as I type out a reply.

Fine.

His response comes almost immediately.

Good girl.

Heat pools in my belly, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore the surge of desire that courses through me. But it's no use. The effect he has on me is undeniable, and I hate that I can't control it. Hate that I want him. But more than that, I hate how much I liked it when he called me good girl.

I toss my phone onto the nightstand, burying my face in the pillow as I try to calm the storm raging inside me. But sleep doesn't come easily. Not when Dante Costa is the only thing I can think about.