Dante's finger beckoned me forward, a simple gesture that felt like a noose tightening. I forced my legs to move, sinking into the chair he'd indicated. The leather was soft, expensive – everything in this room screamed money and power.
"I'm Dante," he said, as if I should recognize the name. "And I'm in charge here. That's all you need to know for now."
His casualness made the steel beneath more obvious. This wasn't a conversation – it was a sentence being handed down.
“We’ve been searching for a long time without success for someone to be Simon’s assistant – our dearest doctor you’ve already met,” he said flatly. “The old man is retiring soon, he’s no longer capable of handling all the work on his own and someone will need to step into his role.”
Dante leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on me like I was a puzzle he’d already solved.
“Congratulations, Juliette. That someone – is you.”
My stomach churned. I barely had time to process his words before he continued.
“You’ll return to your… apartment,” he added, the disdain in his voice making it clear what he thought of my current living situation. “I’ll give you 24 hours to make the right decision and pack your things. Tomorrow evening, you’ll be picked up and moved to one of my properties.”
"And if I refuse?" The words came out before I could stop them.
Dante’s lips curved into a slow, cold smile that made my skin crawl.
"Practicing medicine without a license is a serious deal, babygirl, you should be well aware of that. Performing surgery in an unsanitary basement?" He clicked his tongue. "No license, no credentials. And still – you stitched me up in a filthy basement with whatever you had. Should the authorities learn about your little operation and you could kiss your medical career goodnight before it even begins."
I clenched my hands into fists at legs. Does he fucking for real?
“Of course,” his voice dropped, dripping with mockery, “if you’d prefer to risk all of it and reject my offer, I could always offer you a position at one of my strip clubs in gratitude for saving my precious life. You’d make plenty of tips, I’m sure of that.”
“So that’s it?” Red clouded my vision, feeling the heat rise to my face. “I save your damn life, and you threaten to ruin mine in return?” The words shot out before I could stop them.
My anger seemed to delight him, like watching a kitten bare its claws at a lion.
His smirk deepened, like my anger was nothing more than entertainment to him. He called out, “Maier!” The guy from the car appeared, looking relaxed, as if this was just another day.
“Take her home,” Dante ordered. As I turned to leave, furious and humiliated, Dante’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “24 hours,” he said, his tone calm but firm, like a warning.
I didn’t look back, but I could feel his eyes on me.
The ride home was a blur of panic and possibilities. I could run – find another city, another university, start over once again. But running from one mafia boss had been already hard enough. Two would be impossible.
I needed air. Space to think. The corner store wasn't far – just a quick trip to clear my head.
That's when I saw them.
Two men across the street, trying too hard to look casual. I'd seen them before, trailing behind Kaiden like loyal dogs. My heart stopped, then kicked into overdrive.
I barely made it inside my apartment before my legs gave out.
Kaiden.
He'd found me. After three years of running, of looking over my shoulder, he'd finally caught up.
Painful memories flashed: his hands on my waist, holding me tight to himself, breath hot against skin on my neck. "You belong to me, bella. Better accept it now."
Suddenly, Dante's offer didn't look like a trap – it looked like a sanctuary. His organization might be powerful enough to keep Kaiden at bay. And whatever Dante wanted from me had to be better than what Kaiden had always planned.
When Maier arrived that evening, he started loading boxes without a word. "We can come back for anything–"
"No need." My voice was flat. "I'm never coming back here."
The drive to my new place gave me a chance to study him. He couldn't be much older than me, with an easy smile that seemed out of place in Dante's world. As if reading my thoughts, he started talking about himself – how gambling debts had led him to Dante's organization just a few years ago.
"It's not as bad as you think," he assured me. "Dante's scary as hell, yeah, and ruthless with enemies. But he takes care of his people. And values loyalty in his people."
When that didn't land, he changed tactics. "So what's your story?"
I gave him the edited version. "Juliette Lewis, 21–years–old medical student. Mom died, dad and I fell out after. Left home after high school graduation, haven't spoken since."
He nodded, not pushing for more. Smart kid.
The new apartment was a step up from my basement – not luxury, but decent. And there was Dante, waiting inside like he owned the place. Which, I realized, he probably did.
Maier didn’t waste time, unloading my few belongings while I stood there, unsure of what to do. Dante handed me a sleek black box without a word.
Curious but cautious, I opened it right there.
Inside was a brand–new phone, the kind that looked expensive enough to make me nervous. There was also a set of keys and a card labeled with the make and model of a modest car.
“It’s all secure,” Dante said, his voice calm and matter–of–fact. “Anti–surveillance. Only the people I trust can reach you.” I barely nodded, trying to focus, but his presence was suffocating.
The apartment itself wasn’t bad—clean, furnished, a huge upgrade from my old place. But I couldn’t ignore its location: another sketchy neighborhood where walking alone at night wasn’t safe. Some things didn’t change.
Then I spotted it—the final item in the box. Suspicious red accents peeked out from neatly folded fabric. Frowning, I pulled it out and froze.
It was a nurse’s dress, but not the kind anyone would actually wear in a hospital. Short, tight, with a plunging neckline and barely–there hem, it looked like something out of a bad adult movie and was definitely from some sex shop nearby.
I stared at it, then at Dante, my face burning. “What the hell is this?”
His smirk widened, his voice low and amused. “Your uniform.”