Cattaneo Family Dario & Virelle by C Sinful Writer at Inkitt

One

Trigger Warning: This content is intended for mature audiences only. It may contain material that could be offensive to some readers, including graphic language, dangerous and sexual situations, murder, abuse, and extreme violence.

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Virelle

“V, are you leaving already?” Emma sounds mildly annoyed on the phone, the familiar static of the connection crackling between us.

“Yep, pulling out now. How’s it been with your dad?” I ask, curious. Honestly, I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that she found him after all these years.

“He’s amazing,” she says, and I can hear the genuine, soft smile in her voice. “Wish I’d known him sooner. He runs this security company—though I swear there’s something more. He’s… powerful like a ‘mafia CEO with a personal espresso machine’-powerful. Also, he’s younger than my mom. Does that make her a cougar or a predator?” She chuckles.

I snort, gripping the steering wheel tighter as I navigate the exit. “I mean, yeah… depends who’s asking. Anyway, I’ll be there by eight. Gotta focus on the road, love you.”

“Love you, drive safe!”

I hang up, shaking my head. Emma and I grew up across the street from each other. Her mom did her best, but she had men rotating through her life like it was a drive-thru. Emma’s dad? Total mystery until her mom passed, and she finally found him. They talked for months before she packed up and moved to New York. Now I’m on my way to join her—for a fresh start and some much-needed distance from my ex. Toxic doesn’t even begin to describe that disaster.

I almost miss the turn and swerve at the last second, cutting off some angry guy in a Prius who blares his horn like he’s trying to summon Satan. I flip him off out the window with zero regrets and punch in the gate code Emma gave me.

When the wrought iron gates swing open, the sight hits me in the chest. This place is… massive. The driveway curves like a movie set, lined with towering hedges that feel like they’re closing in, and the landscaping is so aggressively perfect it makes me want to apologize for existing.

Me: I’m here!

Emma: Coming now. Don’t trip—my dad has a ton of security. It’s a little awkward at first!

I step out of my Cadillac SUV, the silence of the estate instantly swallowing the sound of my engine. I shut the door, and suddenly Emma’s barreling into me with a tight hug. It’s the longest we’ve ever been apart, and I missed her like crazy.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with sun-kissed blonde hair—his uniform perfectly pressed—walks up and starts pulling my bags out of the back without a word. He moves with a silent, terrifying efficiency.

“Lui will take your stuff to your room,” Emma says, grabbing my hand and dragging me forward. “Dad’s in a meeting, but you’ll meet him soon. And FYI—my uncles are intense. Well, except Matteo. He’s the fun one. Maybe you two can hook up?”

“Absolutely not,” I laugh, though my heart is already racing from the sheer scale of the house. “I’m not using your family for rebound therapy.”

“Suit yourself. He has great bone structure,” she teases with a wink.

Inside the house, the air is thick, perfumed with the rich scent of fresh espresso, expensive leather, and something metallic—like gun oil. We step into a living room that could host a royal wedding, the ceilings impossibly high, and I hear laughter and deep voices speaking rapid, melodic Italian.

Four men turn toward us at once. It’s like stepping into a high-end cologne commercial starring dangerously attractive men with potentially criminal bank accounts. One of them, with dark hair and darker eyes—definitely related to Emma—locks eyes with me. My breath hitches, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thin to breathe.

Emma beams, oblivious to the shift in my pulse. “V, these are my uncles: Federico, Giuseppe, Matteo… and my father, Dario.”

“Emma, breathe,” I whisper, trying to match her energy, though my skin feels prickly under their collective gaze. “You’re making me feel like I’m on The Bachelorette edition.”

Dario steps forward. He is calm, controlled, and absolutely magnetic in a way that makes the rest of the room fade into static. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Gattina,” he says, his smile small, polite, and entirely dangerous.

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his eyes on my skin like a physical touch. “N-nice to meet you. I’m glad Emma found you.”

Before Dario can respond, Matteo jumps in with a grin wide enough to qualify as a red flag. “Dio mio, Emma! A little warning next time your friend is gorgeous enough to cause international incidents!

Dario doesn’t look away from me as he smacks Matteo upside the head. “Don’t even think about it.”

Matteo clutches his chest, wincing. “What? I was being friendly! Look at her. She’s like… dangerous sunshine.”

I laugh despite myself, though the sound feels hollow in the sudden intensity of the room. “I’m not interested.”

“Ouch.” Matteo winces dramatically as if I’d shot him with a real arrow. “Straight to the heart. I like her already.”

Giuseppe shoves him. “Ignore him. He’s been hit in the head too many times.”

Federico gives a curt nod, his face unreadable. “Welcome.”

Dario’s eyes linger on me for a heartbeat too long, the silence between us stretching like a taut wire before he turns to his brothers. “I’ll see you all at the casino.”

“Boring,” Matteo mutters.

“You’re pushing it,” Giuseppe says under his breath.

Matteo leans toward me, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Save me from my uptight brothers. One dinner. No pressure.”

I give him a playful smile, my nerves dancing under my skin. “We’ll see. Don’t hold your breath.”

“Already holding it,” he teases, then follows the others out.

Once the men are gone, the room feels suddenly, suffocatingly quiet. It’s just Emma, me, and Dario, who feels ten times more intense without his loud brothers around to diffuse the air.

“Lunch is in the garden,” he says, his voice a low, smooth vibration that seems to settle right in my core. “I have meetings all afternoon, but make yourself at home, Virelle.”

The way he says my name… yeah, I’m definitely hallucinating. It sounds like a promise and a threat all at once.

“Thank you, Mr. Cattaneo,” I reply, locking my smile into place.

“Dario. Or just sir,” he adds. He casts one last glance back—heavy, deliberate, and entirely unfatherly—before he disappears down the hall.

Emma chokes on a laugh. “Okay… what was that?”

I blink, my heart thumping against my ribs. “I think that was ‘flirty’ by your hot dad.”

“I noticed,” she smirks. “Let’s go eat before you pass out from the sexual tension.”