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Chapter 7
Chapter 7
The towering iron gates creaked open with loud noise as several cars rolled through the security checkpoint, their engines roaring before coming To a stop in front of a heavily guarded mansion
One of the sleek black limousines opened as an older man, with neatly slicked back bun walk out Tattoos curled up on one side of his face and dissapering under the high collar of his tailored black coat. He appeared to be in his fifties, as his cold gray eyes scan the place. As he wore his black
shades.
Macro Drago lit a cigar, the tip glowing red as he took a long drag. The smoke curled a round him like a serpent as he walked toward the mansion’s entrance. His mens following him from behind. His boots clicked against the polished stone driveway When he reached the massive doors and was about to enter, two guards in black suits, who were guarding the entrence, stepped forward with emotionless face.
“The others stay, one of the guards growled, his gaze locking with Mathew.
“You’re the only one who gets in
Macro Drago took another slow puff of his cigar before blowing a thick cloud of smoke right into the guard’s face. The guard stood firm with stone cold expression making Macro scoff, his lips twisting into a sneer. “Lead the way,” he said, turning to his men and signalling for them to stay back
with a flick of his hand.
The interior of the mansion was lavish, with Jugh ceilings, golden chandeliers, and marble floors that gleamed like mirrors. The scent of expensive leather hung in the air.
Dante Romano sat like a king on his throne, sprawled on a black leather couch while drinking whiskey. His dark eyes followed Drago’s every move. Beside him stood his right–hand man, De Luca, who rose to his feet as Drago entered.
“Macro Drago,” De Luca greeted him with professional smile. “It’s been a while.”
Drago ignored him before turning his gaze to Dante. “Dante Romano,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of mock admiration. “Last time I saw you, you were just a boy. What were you, twelve? Thirteen?”
“twenty” Dante corrected, his tone was deep and cold. “It’s been a long time, Mr. Drago,”
Drago chuckled while taking a seat next to Dante, his grin widening “And look at you now,” he said getting comfortable on the couch. “All grown up.” A fine man, indeed. Your father would be proud”
“He would,” Dante said, his eyes never leaving the Russian men. Something about Drago’s demeanor set him on edge. His instincts screamed not to trust this man, despite him being his father’s friend.
”
“I must say,” Drago continued, his tone almost taunting, “you’ve done quite well for yourself. Running the Romano empire at such a young age”
Dante remained silent, Ignoring Drago’s words He said “Let’s talk about why you are here”
Drago’s smirk deepened. He leaned forward slightly, “Ah, yes, Let’s get to it, shall we? Where is my precious daughter.”
“Elara ” Drago added smoothly, his gray eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “I trust you’ve taken good care of her?”
Dante’s lips thinned. “She’s safe,” he said curtly. “And under my protection.”
“Protection?” Drago repeated, chuckling darkly. “Now that’s rich. She wouldn’t need protection if she were with me. But then again, this wouldn’t have been an issue if she didn’t run away”
“Anyway, I will make sure she learned her lesson this time and not embarrass me again” Dante can sense the coldness in his voice and anger in his eyes. But didn’t he be happy that he finally found his daughter?
“I doubt that,” Dante said, taking another sip of his whisky. “You could’ve just sent your men to take her back. Why come here personally?”
“I was just curious. Why Dante romano reject to take my daughter as bride. Drago said smoothly. ” Imagine it, the Romano and Drago families united. We’d be unstoppable. But unfortunately, you rejected the idea. Pity. We could have been family.”
Dante’s tone turned icy. “Let me make one thing clear. Mr Macro Drago its non of your business. Whom i take as my bride”
Drago’s grin turned wolfish. “Of course not. You’re a Romano, after all. Stubbornness runs in your blood. But let’s not dwell on the past. Bring her?”
“Your daughter doesn’t want to go with you,” Dante said with a snirk. “She begged me to help her.” He leaned back, raising an eyebrow at Drago. “Makes me wonder, how safe is she with you?”
Drago’s expression darkened, but he quickly masked it with a sly smile. “Safe? You think I’d harm my own daughter?” He stood, his imposing frame casting a long shadow. “You’ve grown, Dante, but you still have much to learn about the world. Family always comes first.”
Dante scoffed. “Really? You’re saying this when you’re the one who killed your wife, Rose Ashford?” The room seemed to freeze, as the two men stared at each other giving death glars.
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Chapter 7
Macro Drago’s gray eyes narrowed dangerously. Watch your step, son. Digging into my past can be a dangerous game. People who do so often end up regretting it.”
Dante didn’t flinch, Insted his lip twist in a smirk. “Threats don’t work on me. Drago.” He turned to De Luca and nodded. “Bring the girl.”
De Luca stepped out of the room without a word.
“Anyway, I am a businessman, Drago, and I do business where I see profit. If you can’t offer a satisfactory price for my work, nobody is leaving my den alive.” Dante said making a gun with his hand.
Drago threw his cigar on the floor before crushing it under his shoe. “Now we are talking business. Send my men in. I have brought some gifts for you,” he announced
Dante raised his eyebrows as he reached for a sleek black button. The heavy oak doors swung open, and twelve to fifteen men entered the room, each carrying a large, imposing box.
These boxes are full of gold bars worth twenty million pounds,” Drago said proudly, his chest puffed out as if presenting a trophy.
Dante’s gaze drifted lazily over the gold bars as though they were merely trinkets. His sharp eyes, however, his eyes soon shifted toward his stair at the far end of the room.
Luca was dragging Elara by her arms. While she struggle in his hold.
“Amore, Dante’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he took slow, steps toward her. The sound of his polished shoes against the marble floor that echoed like a predator heartbeat. Elara’s eyes, however, were not on him but on her father.
Dante reached her, his tall frame looming over her. He gently tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his cold. Her tear–filled eyes burned with
anger.
“Your father is offering twenty million pounds in exchange for you,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. The softness of his tone was laced with cruelty. “How could I possibly say no?”
With his thumb, he wiped a loan tear away from her cheek. His touch was soft on her skin. He lingered there, his face inches away from her. He was reading the fire that hadn’t yet died in her eyes.
Elara’s gaze throwing daggers that could have pierced steel. Which made Dante chuckle dangerously, sending chill down her spine.
Do you think you’re worth the price?” he said seductively.
* If I survive this, I swear I’ll kill you Dante Romano Elara whispered, her tone was icey, every word laced with the venom of years of pain. Then without a second glance, she walked toward her father with blank expression.
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