The Billionaire Broken Heiress

Marry me.

The words hung between us like a blade.

I pulled back, putting distance between us on the dance floor. Still moving. Still playing the part of two strangers making polite conversation.

“You’ve lost your mind,” I said quietly.

“Probably.” His grip on my waist tightened. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind me he wasn’t letting go. “But that doesn’t make me wrong.”

“I’m not marrying you.”

“You will.” He said it was like gravity. Like fact. Like something that had already happened and we were just waiting for me to catch up. “Because in about thirty seconds, you’re going to realize you don’t have a choice.”

My heart raced. Adrenaline flooded my system the way it used to when I heard gunshots in the distance.

Fight or flight.

Survival mode.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning.” His eyes never left mine. “The man in the gray suit. Three o’clock. Don’t look directly at him.”

Every instinct screamed at me to turn my head.

I didn’t.

Seven years of survival had taught me better.

I let Dante spin me and caught a glimpse from the corner of my eye.

Gray suit. Hard face. Expensive watch. Cold eyes that looked at me like I was already dead.

“Who is he?” I asked.

“Vincent Carozza’s man.”

The world tilted.

Vincent Carozza.

My godfather. The man at my christening. The man at every birthday. The man my father had trusted more than anyone.

The man who’d murdered my entire family.

“You’re lying,” I said.

But my voice shook.

“Then why did you go pale?” Dante asked softly. “Why are your hands trembling? Why do you look like you’re about to run?”

I wasn’t trembling.

Except I was.

Damn it.

“How do you know Vincent?” I demanded.

“Everyone knows Vincent.” Dante leaned closer, his voice dropping. “But here’s what most people don’t know he’s been hunting for you. Three weeks ago, someone matching your description was spotted in Milan.”

My blood froze.

Milan.

I’d been there exactly three weeks ago. One hotel. Cash only. No cameras.

I thought I’d been so careful.

“If Vincent knows I’m alive..”

“Then you’re already dead.” Dante finished the thought. “Unless you have someone powerful enough to protect you. Someone with the resources and reputation to make people think twice before coming after what’s his.”

He pulled me closer.

His hand settled on my waist like he owned it.

“Someone like me,” he continued. “I need a wife, Aria. Someone presentable. Someone with the right connections and the right last name. Someone who won’t ask too many questions about how I made my fortune.”

“You could marry anyone.”

“But I don’t trust anyone.” He released me, stepping back. “Except you.”

I almost laughed. “You don’t trust me. You hate me.”

“I do.” Something flickered across his face. Pain, maybe. “But I also know you. And I know you’d never risk your son.”

The world stopped spinning.

My son.

Luca.

The air left my lungs. “How did you..”

“Know about the boy?” Dante’s eyes were merciless. “I’m thorough, Aria. When Elena Sinclair appeared on my radar, I investigated everything. Bank accounts. Travel records. Pediatric clinic records from Lagos. A child. Six years old. No father listed.”

I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

“You’ve been watching me for six months?” I whispered.

“For seven years.” He said it casually. Like he’d just mentioned the weather. “The second you disappeared, I started looking. It took time. You covered your tracks well. But I always knew you weren’t dead.”

The song was ending.

Couples around us were pulling apart, applauding.

We were running out of time.

“Does he know?” I couldn’t finish. Couldn’t force the words.

“Does he know the boy is mine?” Dante’s smile was sharp enough to cut. “No. Not yet. The DNA test I ordered is still processing. But we both know what it’s going to say, don’t we?”

I wanted to lie.

I wanted to deny it.

Wanted to do anything except confirm what he already knew.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Something cracked in his expression.

Just for a second.

Just long enough to see the man he used to be. The soldier who’d loved me. Who’d held me like I was something precious. Who’d promised me forever in a voice rough with emotion.

Then the ice slammed back into place.

“Then we understand each other.” He pulled a business card from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. “My penthouse. Tomorrow. Nine a.m. We’ll discuss terms.”

“And if I don’t come?”

He leaned in close.

Close enough that I could smell his cologne—something dark and expensive that made my body remember things it had no business remembering.

“Then I’ll come to you,” he murmured against my ear. “And trust me, Aria—you don’t want me showing up at whatever safehouse you’re keeping my son in.”

He pulled back.

Smiled.

A nightmare smile.

“Sleep well, tesoro.”

Then he turned and walked away.

Disappeared into the crowd like he’d never been there at all.

I stood alone on the empty dance floor, holding the business card.

Heavy stock. Golden lettering.

DANTE RUSSO

RUSSO GLOBAL ENTERPRISES

My fingers trembled as I flipped it over.

Handwritten on the back in bold black ink:

Don’t be late. Our son is counting on you.

Behind me, footsteps approached.

The man in the gray suit.

Vincent’s man.

And he was smiling.