At the private hospital, Massimo had flown in Italy’s most elite medical team–all to treat a tiny scrape on Arianna’s elbow.
“Does it still hurt?” He knelt beside her bed, his voice impossibly gentle. “Those bastards are already dead, cara mia. I swear to your–no one will ever lay a finger on you again”
Arianna’s eyes were glassy with tears, but she was still pouting, refusing to look at him.
Only when the last trace of redness faded from her porcelain skin did.Massimo’s shoulders finally relax.
In the privacy of the VIP suite, he dropped to one knee like a man proposing
Forgive me, Arianna. This is my fault–1 should have been there every second to protect you.” His voice cracked with an emotion he barely recognized. “Come home with me. Tonight. Let me keep you safe where you belong.”
At the word “home,” Arianna finally met his eyes–that innocent, flustered look that made something violent and possessive roar to life in his chest.
This unfamiliar vulnerability was more intoxicating than any drug. He was fucking addicted to every emotion that flickered across her face.
Once he was certain Arianna had forgiven him, Massimo stepped into the hallway and speed dialed Andrea, his family’s longtime
estate manager. His voice returned to its usual lethal calm.
“Clear Isabella and every piece of her shit out of the main house. Tonight. Burn it all if you have to.”
“Don Massimo, Mrs. Ducati never came home last night. I thought she was with you.”
Andrea’s voice carried decades of loyalty, but there was confusion there too.
For one split second, Massimo’s chest tightened. Last night, in his white hot rage, he’d let those animals….
But he crushed that moment of weakness like snuffing out a candle. He needed ice in his veins to handle the way Arianna made him feel–like he was burning alive from the inside out.
I don’t give a fuck where she went. Erase every trace of her from my house. Everything she touched gets replaced. Tonight, that
estate gets a new queen.”
After hanging up, his thumb hovered over his capo’s number–the man in charge of cleaning up loose ends.
Then he pulled back without calling.
“She brought it on herself,” he muttered. “Should’ve thought about consequences before crossing me.”
Isabella’s memory was already fading as he returned to Arianna, carrying her back to what had once been his marital home with something approaching religious devotion.
Every trace of Isabella had been obliterated–even their massive wedding portrait had vanished from the grand foyer.
The air smelled sterile, pristine. Reborn.
This… is where you live?” Arianna traced letters in his palm, her eyes wide with wonder and a hint of nervous uncertainty that fed his dark possessiveness.
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Mi scusi You Chose White Swan I Became Black Queen
44.49
Chapter 5
He wrapped his arms around her impossibly small waist and addressed the trembling household staff.
“Listen carefully. She is your master now. Her word is law. Anyone who disrespects her answers to me personally.”
“Yes, Don Massimo.”
Andrea opened his mouth to speak, but one look from Massimo silenced him.
Massimo’s entire fucking universe began revolving around Arianna.
For the first time in his life, he delegated family business–weapons shipments, territory disputes, protection rackets–to spend his days watching her exist in his space.
If Arianna so much as glanced at something, he bought it. If she’smiled, he’d move mountains to see it again.
He publicly announced their engagement, using his network of politicians and judges to pave golden paths for Arianna and her family.
Two months later, when the annual Cosa Nostra summit was approaching–a gathering where every major family would converge to negotiate territories and settle blood debts–Massimo realized he had a problem.
He needed someone who could smile at corrupt senators while discussing arms deals. Someone who spoke the language of blood money and political favors with deadly grace.
He needed Isabella–the weapon he’d spent years perfecting.
The phone rang endlessly before switching to a robotic message: “The number you have dialed is no longer in service…”
Rage exploded through Massimo’s nervous system like liquid fire.
“Fucking bitch thinks she can just disappear on me.”
He immediately dispatched his best soldiers to drag her back from whatever hole she was hiding in.
They returned with impossible news: every property, every safe house, every fucking breadcrumb led nowhere. Isabella Ducati had vanished like smoke.
“That’s not possible!” Massimo hurled his crystal tumbler at the wall, watching it explode into a thousand glittering pieces.
“Someone helped her. Someone in my own goddamn house!”
violent outburst woke Arianna from her afternoon nap. She appeared on the staircase like a ghost in silk, bare feet silent on arble, concern etched across her delicate features as she wrote in his palm:
“What happened? You’re scaring me.”
Looking into those untainted eyes, Massimo felt something he’d never experienced before–the crushing weight of being utterly fucking helpless.
Isabella was his perfectly honed weapon–a viper who could slither through blood–soaked political networks with lethal grace.
Arianna, for all her beauty and purity, couldn’t navigate the labyrinth of corruption and violence that kept their empire running.
“Family business,” he said through gritted teeth, pulling away from her touch for the first time since she’d entered his life.
He stormed out to personally hunt down his missing wife, leaving Arianna standing alone in the marble foyer.
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Mi scusi, You Chose White Swan. I Became Black Queen
Chapter S
The search yielded nothing but dead ends and his own growing fury.
Isabella was gone. And for the first time in his life, Massimo Ducati felt afraid.
