Instead, I have this. A violent possession. A man tearing me apart and putting me back together with nothing gentle about it.
Deep down, I know I should fear him. I should scream, fight, throw him out of my apartment. A smart girl would tell him to stay away, that he’s put me in danger. The rational part of me is screaming to run, but my body is telling me something else.
Or is it my body that’s honest, while my mind refuses to believe the reality?
This man is the bogeyman. The bad guy people warn you about. But looking back, I think I’ve always favored the morally gray antihero in my novels.
Everyone likes a bad guy, right? That is until you encounter one in real life.
Dante Vescari is the real-life embodiment of my romance fantasies: older, dangerous, irresistibly sexy. The very antihero of my dreams. But is he protecting me from danger? Or is he the danger to me?
When he shifts, grinding deeper into me, a broken sound slips from my throat. My body betrays me again, clinging to him, craving more. He feels so good inside me, so big. I love the feel of his weight on top of me, dominating me.
But it’s his dirty talk, that filthy mouth, that makes me want to be the submissive girl he desires. Dante needs to command; it’s part of who he is, and I guess that’s what I crave, his dominance. I want to be what he needs.
He hears it. My small, needy whine. Of course he does. His dark, gravel laugh rumbles against my ear.
“See? Even your body knows the truth,” he murmurs. He lifts slightly and one hand strokes lazily over my body, grazing my breast, then moving lower, possessively stroking my sore and throbbing clit. “You were madefor me. Cursed, bound to me by some sort of black magic. We were always meant to be, strega dolce.”
My face burns. Shame coils in my chest. And yet, I don’t push him away. I want to. I should. But he’s right. I’m bound to him now, forever.
Well, it may be forever for me. I just gave Dante my body, and now, I’m sure I’m ruined for all other men from this moment forward.
Panicking for a moment, I finally realized the extent of my feelings for this dark man full of secrets. I’m in love with Dante Vescari, the “evil one”, a deadly mobster, and I’m fully aware that giving him my heart may be the worst thing I could ever do. He will destroy me.
“Dante…” My voice cracks, feeling the need to say what needs to be said. “This is happening too fast. This … this isn’t right. You can’t just…”
“I can.” His tone is rough. “I already have.”
His fingers tilt my chin until I’m forced to look at him. His eyes blaze, dangerous and hungry. “I told you, Evangeline. You’ve bewitched me. And I’ve done the same to you. Now, you’ll never be free of me.”
The words chill me. But they also … root me. Deep somewhere inside, a tiny part of me thrills at the madness of it.
Is this what it means to be under Dante Vescari’s spell, under the spell of the dangerous criminal?
I close my eyes, shuddering, torn between terror and desire, between who I was yesterday and who I am becoming. I don’t know if I’ve been ruined or reborn.
Or if there’s even a difference.
Chapter Thirteen
Dante
Inolongersleep.It’s not possible in my world.
Not when she’s dreaming above her shop, wrapped in her sheets, with her golden hair draped over the pillow. Not while Scarletta prowls my city like a rat, whispering threats about taking what’s mine. Not when Silas, the spineless parasite that he is, sinks deeper into debts he can’t repay.
No, sleep is for men who have nothing left to lose. Now, I have everything to lose. I have her.
So, I sit in my study, watching the screens flickering on my desk. Luca’s men have installed feeds that cover every inch of her life. Her pharmacy, her apartment, even the street outside her shop.
And I watch. Always. Evangeline needs me to be watching over her. She’s too innocent to protect herself.
As badly as I’ve wanted to claim her again, I haven’t been able to go to her because of family business. I also don’t want to make her any more of a target than she already is right now until I resolve the issues with her uncle and Scarletta.
There is a plan. It’s just taking longer than I would like.
Although Evangeline may not admit it, I know she feels me everywhere. I can watch as her fingers touch the locks on her apartment door Luca installed as per my order, as if she senses they’re not just there for her safety but chains. Chains that bind her to me.
