Chapter 7 The Weight of Silence

Aria's POV

Five days.

Aria had carried the card in her white coat pocket for five days, the paper softening at the edges from her fingers tracing the numbers like some kind of nervous prayer.

She'd memorized the digits without meaning to. Could recite them backward if asked.

She also hadn't thrown it away.

Tonight, alone in her apartment with a glass of wine she wasn't drinking and a medical journal she wasn't reading, Aria made a decision.

She pulled out her phone and typed the number before she could lose her nerve.

This is Dr. Salvini. I wanted to check on your recovery. How are you feeling?

Professionally Just a doctor following up with a patient.

She hit send, then immediately regretted it.

The response came in less than two minutes.

Better, now that you've finally contacted me. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me.

Her pulse kicked up. She typed: Just busy with work.

Of course. The dedicated surgeon who never stops saving lives.

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Meet me for coffee tomorrow morning. Signora Lucia's café. 8 AM. I promise I won't bite. Unless you ask nicely.

Aria's face flushed. She should say no. Should delete his number. Should—

Her fingers moved: I have a dinner date with my father tomorrow night. Sunday morning instead?

Sunday works. I'll be counting the hours, dottoressa.

Aria set down the phone, heart racing.

What had she just done?

Dante's POV

Dante stared at his phone, reading Aria's message for the third time.

Sunday morning instead?

Two days. He had two days to decide how far he was willing to take this.

"She agreed to meet you." Rocco's voice came from across the room, where he sat reviewing financial reports. "I can hear you smiling from here. It's disturbing."

Dante shot him a look. "I'm not smiling."

"You are. You've been staring at that phone like it's going to give you the meaning of life." Rocco set down his papers. "This is getting complicated."

"It's going exactly according to plan."

"Is it? Because the plan was to seduce her, use her against her father, and walk away. The plan wasn't actually care about whether she texts you back."

Dante's jaw tightened. "I don't—"

"You do. I've known you twenty years, fratello. I know when you're lying to yourself." Rocco leaned forward. "She's getting under your skin."

"She's Bruno Salvini's daughter. That's all that matters."

"Then why do you look like a lovesick teenager every time her name comes up?"

Because she saved my life. Because when she looks at me, she doesn't see a monster. Because for the first time in twenty years, I feel like something other than a weapon pointed at my enemy.

Dante didn't say any of that.

Instead, he said: "Coffee on Sunday. Then we move to the next phase."

"Which is?"

"Making her trust me completely. Making her fall." Dante's voice was cold, calculated. Everything he needed it to be. "And when she's in deep enough, I'll use that trust to destroy her father."

Rocco studied him for a long moment. "And what about her? When this is over and Bruno Salvini is dead, what happens to the girl?"

Dante didn't answer.

Because he didn't know.

And that terrified him more than he'd ever admit.

Aria's POV

Saturday evening arrived too quickly.

Aria stood in her father's study, heart pounding, replaying the words she'd just overheard.

"Moretti."

She knocked, pushing the door open.

Bruno sat behind his massive desk, phone pressed to his ear. When he saw her, his expression turned cold businessman replaced instantly by the warm, doting father.

"I'll call you back," he said into the phone, then ended the call. "Aria, tesoro! Come in."

She stepped inside, trying to appear casual. "I wasn't sure if I should interrupt."

"Nonsense. You're never an interruption." He stood, moving around the desk to kiss both her cheeks. "How are you? You look tired. Working too hard again?"

"Just the usual." Aria forced a smile. "Maria said you wanted to discuss something?"

"Yes. Sit, please."

They settled into the leather chairs by the fireplace. Bruno poured them both wine from a crystal decanter.

"I've been thinking," he began, swirling his glass. "You're twenty-five now. Brilliant career, beautiful, accomplished. But you spend all your time at that hospital."

"I love my work, Papa."

"I know. And I'm proud of you." He paused. "But I worry you're isolating yourself. When's the last time you went on a date? Spent time with friends?"

Aria's chest tightened. "I have friends."

"Sienna doesn't count. She's practically family." Bruno leaned forward. "Tommaso Lazzari mentioned his son has been asking about you. Lorenzo. Do you remember him?"

She did. Vaguely. Sleazy smile, wandering eyes, the kind of man who thought his family's money made him irresistible.

"Papa, I'm not interested in being set up—"

"I'm not setting you up. I'm simply suggesting you might enjoy attending the gallery opening next month. Lorenzo will be there. As will half of Rome's eligible bachelors." His tone was light, but there was something else underneath. Something that felt like pressure.

"Why are you really bringing this up?" Aria asked quietly.

Bruno's expression softened. "Because I want you to be happy. Safe. Protected." He reached for her hand. "This city can be dangerous, tesoro. Especially for someone as... visible as you. A respected surgeon. My daughter. There are people who might try to use you to get to me."

The word echoed in her mind again. Moretti.

"Has something happened?" she asked. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No, no. Nothing like that." But the way he said it felt like a lie. "I just want you to be careful. Be aware of the people you spend time with. Not everyone has good intentions."

Aria's stomach churned. Was he talking about Dante? Did he somehow know?

"I'm always careful," she said.

"I know you are. You're smart. But even smart people can be deceived." Bruno squeezed her hand. "Promise me something. If anyone approaches you, asks questions about me or my business, you'll tell me immediately."

"Of course. But Papa—"

"That's all I needed to hear." He stood, the conversation clearly over. "Now. Let's eat. Maria's made your favorite."

Dinner passed in a blur of forced conversation and underlying tension. Aria couldn't shake the feeling that her father knew something. That this entire evening was a warning disguised as paternal concern.

When she finally left, driving back through the gates and toward the city, her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: You looked beautiful tonight. But also scared. Is everything all right?

Aria's blood ran cold.

She pulled over, hands shaking, and typed: Who is this? How do you know where I was?

Unknown Number: The same way I know you're sitting in your car right now, pulled over on Via Aurelia, trying to figure out if you're being followed.

Aria's head snapped up, scanning the dark road around her. No headlights. No cars.

Her phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: Don't be afraid, dottoressa. I'm not your enemy. But your father has many. And some of them are very interested in you.

Unknown Number: Coffee tomorrow. 8 AM. Come alone. There are things you need to know about the man

you call Papa.

Unknown Number: And about the man whose life you saved.

Unknown Number: His name was Dante Moretti and your father is the reason his family is dead.