Her Dog Escaped Into The Mafia Boss’s Penthouse — She Had to Join His Family Lunch to Get Him Back

Chapter 6

“You know who this is.” He sounded calm, terrifyingly unbothered. “I heard about the attempt on your door. The police won’t help you here, Lena. Not tonight.”

Her breath hitched. “Did you send them?”

“If I had sent someone, they would be inside, and we would not be having this conversation,” he said dryly. “You are not safe alone. You stepped into my world yesterday, even by accident. That makes you visible. And in my world, visibility is dangerous.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” she cried, tears finally spilling over. “I just wanted my dog back.”

“Intent is irrelevant. Consequence is everything. Come across the hall now.”

“No,” she said, her voice shaking but stubborn. “I’m not going in there again. I’m staying here.”

“Stubbornness is a luxury you cannot afford tonight.”

“I’m locking my door. Leave me alone.”

She hung up and sat in the bathroom for an hour holding a kitchen knife, waiting for the door to crash in. It didn’t. Eventually the silence stretched too long, and curiosity — or perhaps the need to know whether she was about to die — forced her to stand. She crept to the peephole.

Standing directly outside her door, back to the wall, was a man from lunch the day before. The large one. Dario. Arms crossed, a distinct bulge under his jacket. And the doorjamb — loose for years — looked brand new. The scratches from the earlier attempt were gone.

He had fixed her door. He had placed a guard.

Rage, hot and clarifying, burned through her fear. He was taking over. He was suffocating her one careful gesture at a time. She threw the door open. Dario turned, face impassive.

“I want to see him,” she demanded.

Dario simply nodded, keyed a radio at his lapel, and gestured toward the already-open penthouse door.