Chapter 3 - The Night Someone Tried to Break Into Her ApartmentThree nights after the warehouse meeting, someone entered Maya Bennett’s apartment.
Or tried to.
She woke at 2:17 a.m. to the sound of metal touching metal.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just a tiny mechanical scrape beyond her bedroom door.
Maya opened her eyes.
For several seconds, she lay completely still beneath the covers.
Eli had been discharged from St. Augustine the previous afternoon and was asleep in the guest room.
The apartment was dark.
Another scrape came from the front door.
Then a soft click.
Someone was working the lock.
Maya reached for her phone.
Her first instinct was 911.
Her second surprised her.
Dante.
She stared at his name in her contacts.
He had given her his private number during her first week at Bellini Holdings and told her to use it only for emergencies.
In three years, she had called it exactly twice.
Once when a major acquisition collapsed at midnight.
Once when Dante’s flight had been diverted during a storm.
Neither had involved a stranger trying to enter her home.
The lock clicked again.
Maya dialed.
Dante answered before the second ring.
“Maya?”
No sleep in his voice.
Of course.
“Someone’s at my door.”
Silence.
Then, instantly, “Where is Eli?”
“Guest room.”
“Lock your bedroom.”
“I need to get him.”
“No.”
“Dante—”
“Do not cross the apartment.”
The person outside pushed against the door.
Maya heard the chain tighten.
Her pulse exploded.
“They’re inside the outer lock.”
Dante’s voice became deadly calm.
“Take your phone. Go to Eli’s room through the connecting bathroom.”
Maya blinked.
“How do you know my apartment layout?”
A pause.
“Security assessment.”
“You investigated my apartment?”
“Be angry tomorrow.”
Another push.
The chain groaned.
Maya moved.
She crossed the small bathroom linking the rooms and woke Eli.
He sat up.
“What?”
“Quiet.”
The fear in her voice silenced him instantly.
Dante remained on the phone.
“Police are three minutes away.”
“You called?”
“Luca did.”
Maya locked Eli’s bedroom.
The apartment door shook violently.
Eli’s eyes widened.
“Is that—”
“Yes.”
He reached for the baseball bat beside his closet.
Maya almost laughed despite everything.
“You can barely walk downstairs without getting tired.”
“I can swing.”
“No.”
A crash sounded.
The chain broke.
Someone entered.
Maya clamped a hand over Eli’s mouth.
Footsteps moved through the living room.
Slow.
Searching.
A drawer opened.
Then another.
Dante’s voice came through the phone.
“Stay silent.”
Maya whispered, “They’re searching.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
The footsteps stopped outside her bedroom.
The door opened.
Dante heard it through the phone.
His breathing changed.
For the first time Maya understood something important.
Dante Bellini was afraid.
Not panicked.
Not helpless.
But afraid.
For her.
“Police are downstairs,” he said.
The intruder moved away.
A siren sounded outside.
Footsteps suddenly ran toward the front door.
Seconds later came shouting.
Then silence.
Maya did not unlock the bedroom until an officer identified himself through the door.
Dante arrived eleven minutes later.
He entered wearing black trousers, a charcoal sweater, and an expression that made two uniformed officers instinctively move aside.
Maya stood in the hallway.
Barefoot.
Gray pajamas.
Hair loose around her shoulders.
Dante looked her over from head to toe.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Eli?”
“I’m alive,” Eli called from behind her.
Dante nodded once.
Then he looked at the destroyed lock.
“What did they take?”
The officer answered.
“Nothing obvious.”
Maya crossed her arms.
“They searched my desk.”
Dante looked toward the small workspace near the window.
Drawers had been emptied.
Files covered the floor.
“What was there?”
“Bills. Eli’s medical documents. Work notes.”
Dante’s expression sharpened.
“Work notes?”
“Nothing confidential.”
“Define nothing.”
“Meeting reminders. Public documents. Printed itineraries after travel was complete.”
Luca entered behind Dante.
He crouched near the broken door.
“This wasn’t a robbery.”
The officer frowned.
“What makes you say that?”
“Professional bypass on the deadbolt. No electronics taken. No jewelry.”
Maya looked at Dante.
“Ricci?”
“Probably.”
Eli stepped out of the bedroom.
His face was pale.
“Probably?”
Dante turned toward him.
“You should sit.”
“I’ve spent six months being told to sit.”
Maya pointed at the couch.
“Sit.”
Eli sat.
Dante almost smiled.
Luca stood.
“There’s another problem.”
“What?”
He held up a small black device.
A tracking tag.
Found beneath Maya’s entry table.
She stared at it.
Dante’s face became unreadable.
“Everyone out.”
The police officer frowned.
“Mr. Bellini—”
“Please.”
The word carried no politeness.
Ten minutes later, only Dante, Maya, Eli, and Luca remained.
Dante turned to Maya.
“You’re not staying here.”
“No.”
“Maya.”
“No.”
“Someone entered your apartment.”
“They’re gone.”
“They planted a tracker.”
“We remove it.”
“They know where you live.”
“They already knew.”
Dante’s patience began to fracture.
“Why do you insist on arguing with reality?”
“Because your solution to everything is control.”
“My solution is keeping you alive.”
“And where exactly am I supposed to go?”
Dante answered immediately.
“My house.”
The room became silent.
Eli’s eyebrows rose.
Maya stared at him.
“No.”
“Guest floor.”
“No.”
“Private elevator. Security twenty-four hours.”
“No.”
Eli raised a hand.
“I vote yes.”
“Eli.”
“What? Someone broke into our apartment.”
“You cannot vote.”
“I’m sixteen. I can vote on not getting murdered.”
“You cannot legally vote on anything.”
Dante looked at him.
“He has a point.”
Maya glared at both men.
“This is not funny.”
“No,” Dante said.
“It isn’t.”
His voice softened.
“You don’t trust favors. I understand.”
Maya said nothing.
“So don’t treat it as a favor.”
“What is it?”
“Security protocol.”
“For an employee?”
“For a security risk attached to an active threat.”
She folded her arms.
“That is incredibly romantic wording.”
The word romantic hung in the room.
Dante’s gaze shifted.
Maya immediately wished she could take it back.
Eli looked delighted.
Luca suddenly found the broken door fascinating.
Dante said, “You and Eli stay at my penthouse until this is resolved.”
Maya opened her mouth.
Dante continued.
“You have private rooms. You owe me nothing. You can leave whenever you want. No one enters your space without permission.”
He paused.
“I will not ask about your medical bills. I will not pay your debt. I will not make decisions for you.”
Maya watched him.
It was the closest Dante Bellini had ever come to asking rather than ordering.
Eli said quietly, “Maya.”
She looked at her brother.
He was trying not to show fear.
That decided it.
“One week,” she said.
Dante nodded.
“One week.”
The Bellini penthouse occupied the top three floors of a private tower overlooking the East River.
Maya had expected luxury.
She had not expected silence.
There were no parties.
No women wandering through hallways.
No evidence of the extravagant nightlife tabloids occasionally associated with Dante.
The penthouse was immaculate, dark, and strangely lonely.
A house designed to impress people who were never invited inside.
Dante showed Maya and Eli the guest floor himself.
“Kitchenette. Two bedrooms. Private sitting room. Elevator access is restricted to your fingerprints.”
Eli whistled.
“This is bigger than our entire apartment.”
Maya set down her bag.
“Please don’t get comfortable.”
“I already love it.”
Dante looked at Maya.
“Dinner is at eight.”
“We’ll order something.”
“My cook already prepared enough.”
“We’re not joining you.”
Eli said, “I am.”
Maya closed her eyes.
Dante actually smiled.
It transformed his face.
Not completely.
But enough to remind Maya that beneath the suits, power, and terrifying reputation was a thirty-six-year-old man who apparently found her younger brother entertaining.
Dinner lasted two hours.
Eli asked questions nobody else dared ask.
“Have you ever killed anyone?”
Maya nearly dropped her fork.
“Eli.”
Dante continued cutting his steak.
“Yes.”
Eli’s eyes widened.
Maya stared at Dante.
“You could have lied.”
“He asked.”
Eli leaned forward.
“How many?”
“That question you don’t get.”
“Why?”
“Because your sister is already considering throwing me off my own balcony.”
Maya looked down at her plate.
Dante had made a joke.
An actual joke.
Eli grinned.
“Do you love anybody?”
The table went quiet.
Maya’s head snapped up.
“Enough.”
Dante’s knife stopped.
Eli immediately realized he had crossed a line.
“Sorry.”
Dante looked toward the windows.
“No.”
The answer was simple.
Almost cold.
But Maya saw something behind it.
Not indifference.
Memory.
Later, after Eli went upstairs, Maya found Dante standing alone on the terrace.
The city burned below.
“You didn’t have to answer him.”
Dante glanced toward her.
“He asked honestly.”
“He is incapable of subtlety.”
“That may be why I like him.”
Maya leaned against the railing several feet away.
“Thank you for letting us stay.”
“You already thanked me.”
“I know.”
Dante looked at her.
“You hate needing anything.”
“I hate owing people.”
“Not the same thing.”
“For me, it is.”
“Why?”
Maya looked out over the river.
She considered avoiding the question.
Then something about the darkness made honesty easier.
“My father borrowed money when I was twelve.”
Dante stayed silent.
“He owned a hardware store in Queens. Business slowed. He borrowed from someone who said they were helping.”
Dante understood before she continued.
“When he couldn’t repay?”
“They took the store. Then the house.”
Maya swallowed.
“My mother left. My father started drinking. Eli was a baby.”
“And you raised him.”
“Mostly.”
Dante’s gaze sharpened.
“How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
Something dangerous flickered in his face.
Not toward her.
Toward a past he could not change.
“That is why you won’t let me pay Ricci.”
“Yes.”
“You think debt gives people ownership.”
“I know it can.”
Dante stared across the city.
“My father taught me the opposite lesson.”
Maya looked at him.
“He taught me debt was useful.”
There was no pride in his voice.
“Give someone what they desperately need, and they will spend years confusing fear with loyalty.”
Maya studied him.
“And you believed him?”
“For a long time.”
“What changed?”
Dante looked at her.
“You.”
Her breath caught.
He seemed to realize what he had said.
Neither moved.
The city hummed hundreds of feet below.
Maya whispered, “Dante.”
It was the first time she had used his first name.
Something in his expression changed.
He stepped toward her.
One step.
Then stopped.
Not touching.
Not assuming.
“I am still your employer.”
“Yes.”
“And you are staying in my home because someone threatened you.”
“Yes.”
“Which means anything else would be unfair.”
Maya understood.
Respect.
Boundaries.
The same man who controlled nearly every room he entered was refusing to use the imbalance between them.
Her heart beat harder.
“Good night, Mr. Bellini.”
His eyes darkened slightly at the return to formality.
“Good night, Ms. Bennett.”
Maya walked inside.
Dante remained alone on the terrace.
Five minutes later, Luca appeared through the opposite door.
“You’re in trouble.”
Dante did not turn.
“If you enjoy employment, you’ll finish that thought carefully.”
Luca smiled.
“You care about her.”
Dante stared down at the city.
“That is not a useful observation.”
“No.”
Luca’s smile faded.
“But it might become a dangerous one.”
His phone buzzed.
He looked at the message.
Then his expression changed completely.
“What?”
Luca turned the screen toward Dante.
A photograph had been sent anonymously.
It showed Maya entering Dante’s penthouse.
Eli beside her.
Timestamped one hour earlier.
Below the photograph was one sentence.
YOU CAN’T PROTECT BOTH OF THEM.
Dante’s face became stone.
The break-in had never been about searching Maya’s apartment.
It had been about pushing her somewhere safer.
Somewhere predictable.
May you like
Someone had wanted Maya inside Dante’s home.
And whoever had sent the photograph knew she was there.
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