"Dante," she gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders.
I stilled, giving her time to adjust. "I've got you," I murmured against her forehead. "Just breathe."
After a moment, she nodded, and I began to move. Slowly at first. Methodically. Each thrust a declaration, a claim, a promise that I would never let her go.
Her hands moved across my back, down to my hips, pulling me deeper. She met me thrust for thrust, her body responding to mine like we'd been doing this for years instead of minutes. The connection between us felt like something alive. Something that had always existed and we were just finally acknowledging it.
"You feel—" she started, but couldn't finish.
"I know," I groaned.
I picked up the pace, losing the careful control I'd been maintaining. My breathing became ragged. The world narrowed down to nothing but her and me and the sensation of her wrapped around me, accepting me, claiming me right back.
When she came, it was sudden. Intense. Her body tightened around me, and she cried out my name like it was the only word she knew. The sight of her, the feel of her, the sound of her—it pushed me over the edge.
I came hard, burying myself deep inside her, my body shaking with the force of it.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. I was still inside her, my chest heaving against hers, my heart racing so fast I thought it might beat right out of my ribs.
Then I rolled to the side, pulling her with me, keeping one arm wrapped around her waist like I was afraid she'd disappear if I let go.
She was trembling. Whether from pleasure or shock or something else entirely, I couldn't tell.
I pressed my lips to the top of her head, taking in the scent of her, letting my own breathing slowly return to normal even though my grip on her didn't ease.
"You're not a pawn," I whispered into her hair. "You're the only thing that's ever felt real."
She didn't respond. Just lay against me, her head on my chest, her breathing slowly evening out as the intensity of what had just happened settled over us like a blanket.
I held her like that for a long time. Hours, maybe. Long enough for the city below to shift from evening to night. Long enough for my mind to settle, even as my body remained hyperaware of hers.
She was part of me now. Woven into every breath, every thought, every plan I'd ever make.
I would destroy anyone who tried to take her from me. Without hesitation. Without mercy.
CHAPTER 10
Julietta
Iwoke to sunlight filtering through heavy curtains I didn't remember opening. Dante's arm was still around my waist, his chest rising and falling against my back in the rhythm of deep sleep. For the first time since he'd dragged me into this penthouse, I didn't immediately calculate escape routes or catalog weapons.
Instead, I lay there thinking about his words.
You're not a pawn.
The lie of it should have stung. I'd spent my entire life being exactly that—property to the Bennetts, a tool for Lorenzo, collateral to Miguel. But Dante had said it with such certainty, as if declaring it could make it true. As if my acceptance of it could reshape reality.
I shifted carefully, extracting myself from his grip without waking him. He stirred slightly but didn't follow, one hand reaching across the space I'd left like muscle memory. I watched him for a moment—theharsh lines of his face softened in sleep, the blue depths of his eyes hidden behind dark lashes. In the morning light, he looked almost human.
Almost.
Because the truth was, I knew exactly what he was. A mafia Don who'd built his empire on blood and violence. A man who'd killed my fiancé without hesitation. Who ran operations that were probably just as ruthless as my father's, even if he claimed they were cleaner.
I'd watched him move through his world for weeks now. Seen the way his men deferred to him with a mix of respect and fear. Heard fragments of conversations about shipments, territories, eliminations. Dante Taviani wasn't a hero who'd saved me from a monster. He was a different kind of monster—one who'd claimed me for himself.
And somehow, terrifyingly, that didn't change what I felt when he touched me.
The penthouse was quiet as I moved through it. The kind of quiet that only existed in spaces designed to exclude the world. I'd been here for five days. Five days of locked doors and controlled meals and a man who looked at me like I was either a prize or a threat, sometimes both simultaneously.
