Dimness Amid The Fire

Francesca’s modest room had a narrow window that let in the early light. Though there weren't any metal bars here, she still felt like she could hear the unmistakable clink of being locked up. Dante's home had become her prison.

She pulled her hair back into a loose bun and tried not to think about the knot in her gut. She had been coerced into this arrangement over a week ago, and every day since then had tested her patience.

Until now, Dante had only given her the responsibility of following him around. He never gave an explanation for his preference to keep her near at all times. And she was getting a little scared of that.

A knock on the door interrupted her train of thought. Francesca tensed up, her heart thumping in her throat. Expecting to see one of Dante's men, she threw open the door and was met by a young woman's gentle, hazel eyes.

"Hello." The woman smiled slightly, unsure. "My name is Elena."

Francesca gave her head a shake. She hadn't encountered any ladies at Dante's estate, much less one who appeared so... kind. That is discounting the one called Sofia, who thinks she’s one of the guys. Elena stood out from the chilly, masculine vibe that pervaded the mansion thanks to her lovely honey-brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders.

"Francesca," she hesitantly said while crossing her arms. "What is it that you want?"

Even when Elena's smile faltered, she went inside. "Dante asked me to take care of you. I am his sister.”

“His sister?”

Dante had a sister? "He never mentioned you." Francesca responded, her tone a little harsher than she meant to,

Elena gave an unfazed shrug. "He wouldn't. Dante isn't one to talk about family, or, more accurately, have small talk.”

Francesca examined her closely. Elena seemed gentle and almost innocent, but she wasn't sure if she could put her trust in that. There could be no one so innocent around Dante.

"Exactly what does 'looking after me' mean?" With a tone full of mistrust, Francesca questioned.

Elena dismissively waved a hand. "I guess mostly making sure you're comfy. You realize that you are not a prisoner.”

Francesca sneered. "Could have fooled me."

Elena's countenance abruptly turned serious as her eyes grew somewhat darker. "You may think of it as a cage, but Dante is protecting you."

"Protecting me?" Francesca laughed a hollow chuckle. “From whom? Before he made the decision to include me in his world, everything in my life was great.”

Elena's mouth formed a thin line. “You don't understand the whole situation. Dante is not a bad person.”

“Yeah! Saint Dante”

Before Elena could respond, there was a knock on the door. Francesca’s heart fell when she saw one of Dante's men, Vince, as the door opened. His broad shoulders and great stature belied his constant expression of indifference, as if there was nothing in the world that could ever truly impress him.

He was second in command to Dante, and judging by the expression on his face, this wasn't a friendly visit. “You should go downstairs; Dante wants you now.” Vince spoke bluntly, hardly acknowledging Elena before turning his gaze to Francesca.

Her defiance never far from the surface, Francesca whispered under her breath, "Can't wait to see what today's torture is."

Vince arched an eyebrow but remained silent. Rather, he moved aside, indicating that she should go before him. With a frightened glance at Elena, Francesca grudgingly walked through the door.

The tension in the air increased as they proceeded down the opulent hallway. Francesca could feel its weight bearing down on her. As they arrived at the study, Vince pushed the thick oak doors open.

As usual, Dante was sitting behind his desk inside, but he wasn't by himself this time. Francesca had never seen the man standing next to him before.

The man appeared to belong in a boardroom instead of a mafia cave; he was tall and thin, with his black hair styled back and his eyes icy and calculating. His well-tailored suit and shiny shoes exuded affluence and power—power that could be dangerous.

Dante looked up, his normal expression unreadable. “This is Lorenzo Rossi, Francesca."

Lorenzo briefly glanced at her, his eyes locked on hers. "My pleasure," he uttered, his tone as silky as oil.

With her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene, Francesca remained silent. This man had an unsettling quality about him. Something that makes her uncomfortable.

Not wanting to display any sign of weakness, she crossed her arms and asked, “What's going on?”

Dante leaned back in his chair, his jaw tensing slightly. "Lorenzo is here to discuss a business arrangement."

"Business?" Francesca furrowed her brow. "What's that have to do with me?"

Lorenzo interrupted, his gaze firmly fixed on her, saying, "Everything. As you can see, Dante is obligated to you as a favor."

Francesca felt her blood freeze. "Pardon me?"

Dante spoke in a quiet, controlled tone. "Lorenzo is a business associate. A few years ago, he assisted me in a difficult situation, and now he is taking advantage of that favor.”

Lorenzo had a sly smile. "And lucky for me, Francesca, that favor involves you."

Her stomach twisted. "What am I missing?"

Putting his hands nonchalantly in his pockets, Lorenzo took a step forward. “The debt owed by your father has garnered interest. What Dante owes on that favor now interests more people than simply himself. To put it simply, I'm making sure the odds are still in my favor.”

Something flared in Dante's eyes, like anger? Feeling remorse? It was difficult to determine. But Lorenzo went on before he could reply.

His voice was gentle but full of hate as he whispered, "I don't want to hurt you, Francesca." “However, if your father is unable to pay, I might need to look into alternative solutions.”

Francesca felt her heart race in her chest. She wasn't gullible. She understood Lorenzo's meaning perfectly. Her father had been associated with individuals even more dangerous than Dante. Individuals who are in cohorts with Lorenzo.

Dante jerked to his feet and cast a chilly look at Lorenzo. "Lorenzo, you came here to make a point. You've succeeded. Now leave this house.”

Lorenzo laughed, obviously relishing the suspense. But Francesca could see the hate in his eyes.

“Dante, you're always so dramatic. Alright,I'll leave. However, I'll be back before you know it.” And with that, Lorenzo pivoted on his heel and disappeared, leaving a spooky trail of silence behind him.

Francesca turned to confront Dante, a simmering rage beneath her exterior. "You're the one putting me in danger, even though you claimed you brought me here to protect me."

Clenching his jaw, Dante remained silent. Rather, he approached her with caution and a quiet voice. “You have to understand, Francesca. This is not a game. You are ignorant of the forces at work.”

Her voice increased, her fists clenched at her sides. “Then tell me how it works! Stop using me as a pawn.”

Dante's gaze met hers. "You are not a pawn. You are the queen on the chessboard. However, that does not make you untouchable.”

Francesca’s breath caught in her throat, but the door burst open once again before she could react. Elena burst in, her voice quivering, her face pallid. "They're coming."

Dante's face became serious. "Who?"

"Lorenzo’s men," Elena muttered. “They’re already here.”