Her eyes flew open, confusion and something that looked like disappointment crossing her face.
"Dante—"
"Not yet." The words cost me everything. My hands were shaking as I stepped away from her, putting necessary distance between us before I did something we'd both regret. Or wouldn't regret. Which was worse.
"Why?"
"Because when I kiss you—" I had to stop and breathe through the want clawing at my chest. "When I finally kiss you, princess, it won't be because you're confused or scared or looking for an escape. It'll bebecause you chose it. Chose me. Knowing exactly what I am and what this means."
"You're insane."
"Probably." I retreated toward the door, my jaw clenched so hard I tasted copper. "But I'm also patient. And you're not ready."
"Don't tell me what I'm ready for."
"Prove me wrong then." I paused in the doorway and looked back at her—flushed, breathing hard, eyes blazing with anger and arousal and confusion. "Dinner's at 4:30 p.m. Don't be late."
I made it to my bedroom before the control finally shattered. I braced my hands on the dresser and stared at my reflection in the mirror—jaw tight, eyes wild, breathing ragged like I'd run a marathon instead of walked away from the one thing I wanted most.
The cold, calculating Don who'd built an empire on blood and strategy was gone. In his place was just a man, drowning in desire. Burning with frustration. Completely undone by a mafia princess who was supposed to be leverage and nothing more.
My phone buzzed again. Vince.
Need an update. What's the status?
I typed back with hands that weren't quite steady:Complicated.
Because that was the truth. Julietta Altieri was supposed to be a pawn in a game I'd been playing for years, and instead she'd walked in and flipped the whole board.
And the worst part—the truly terrifying part—was that I didn't care.
Let Lorenzo come. Let the Suarez cartel mobilize. Let the whole damn city burn.
I wasn't giving her back.
CHAPTER 6
Julietta
The ceiling was perfect. Not a crack. Not a water stain or imperfection marring the smooth plaster. I stared at it for what felt like hours, counting heartbeats instead of sheep, my skin still burning from where Dante had touched me.
When I finally kiss you.
Not if. When.
Like it was inevitable. Like I was inevitable.
I pressed my palms against my face and tried to steady my breathing. My pulse hammered beneath my jaw—right where his mouth had been. Where his teeth had grazed. The memory of it sent heat pooling low in my belly, and I hated that. Hated how my body responded to a man who'd stolen me. Who kept me locked in a penthouse like a bird in a gilded cage.
Except birds didn't feel like this, didn't lie awake replaying every word, every touch, every moment ofalmost.
I rolled onto my side and punched the pillow into submission. The silk sheets whispered against my skin—expensive, soft, chosen specifically for me. Just like the clothes in the closet. Just like the toiletries in the bathroom. Everything calibrated to my preferences, as if Dante had been watching me for months.
Hehadbeen watching me for months.
The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear.
"God, what's wrong with me?" I muttered into the darkness. Was I so starved for love, or even just attention, that I was willing to throw it all away at one look from my kidnapper?
