Tempting Ties (Billion Dollar Brides #3)

1. Chiara

1

CHIARA

T he forest is alive around us, the air thick with the scents of pine and damp earth, wrapping us in its secret embrace. I can feel the tension in my body, a mix of fear and anticipation. Dante stands before me, his dark eyes filled with a storm of emotions, mirroring my own longing and trepidation.

The fire crackles softly, casting flickering shadows that dance across his face. I can still feel the rough bark of the tree at my back, grounding me as I look up at him, my heart pounding with a wild, uncontrollable rhythm. He’s so close, his presence overwhelming, yet he hesitates, his sense of duty and honor battling with the desire we both feel.

“Chiara,” he whispers, his voice rough and filled with restraint. “We shouldn’t be doing this. Your father?—”

“I don’t want to talk about my father,” I say, silencing him with a finger over his lips. “Please, Dante.”

I can see the resolve in his eyes wavering, and he reaches out, his hands warm and callused as they cup my face. The touch sends a shiver down my spine, igniting a fire deep within me. The forest seems to hold its breath, the only sound the beating of our hearts. I can feel the weight of his struggle, the way he tries to resist, but I also see the love and desire in his eyes, burning bright and fierce.

Our kiss is tentative, a gentle brush of lips that quickly deepens into something more urgent, more primal. His mouth moves against mine, claiming me, and I respond with a fervor I didn’t know I possessed. My hands find their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel him against me. Every touch, every caress is electric, setting my skin alight.

“Chiara,” he groans into my mouth as I grip his shirt. I open my mouth, and he eagerly plunges his tongue in to battle with mine. I moan, my heart beating a staccato against my chest.

We sink to the forest floor, a bed of blankets cushioning us. This is one of the only places we can go to have some privacy. There are too many wandering eyes at my father’s estate, too many people who will try to keep us apart.

The forest brings us together.

Dante’s hands explore my body, slowly and reverently, as if memorizing every curve, every inch of skin. There’s a tenderness in his touch that makes my heart ache, a promise of love and protection. I can feel his hesitation, the way he holds back, but tonight I need him to lose control, to let go of his fears and be with me completely.

“Dante,” I whisper, my voice a desperate plea. “I want this. I want you .”

He pauses, his eyes searching mine, and I see the internal battle he’s waging. “Chiara, I can’t ruin you. I can’t betray your father.”

“You won’t,” I assure him, my hands slipping under his shirt to feel the heat of his skin and the grooves and dips of his abs. “This is just us. No one else. Please.”

His resistance crumbles, and he kisses me again, more urgently this time. His hands move with a new purpose, unbuttoning my blouse and sliding it off my shoulders. I tremble beneath his touch, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through me. His lips trail down my neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake, and I arch into him, wanting more.

“Chiara.” He whispers my name like a prayer as he undresses me with careful, deliberate movements, as if I’m something precious. His eyes darken with desire as he removes his own shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest. I can’t help but marvel at him, every inch of him sculpted and beautiful.

His fingers trace patterns on my skin. I shiver, a gasp escaping my lips as his touch sends electric shocks through my body. I arch into him, craving more, my heart pounding against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Dante is my whole world, my heart. I choose him, and I want him to know it.

“Dante,” I whisper, my voice trembling with emotion, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Chiara,” he murmurs, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that steals my breath away.

We fumble with the rest of our clothes, laughing softly at our eagerness. His hands slide down my arms, tugging my pants down, and I follow suit with his. Finally, we are naked before each other, vulnerable yet so incredibly sure of what we want.

Seeing his naked body brings a blush to my cheeks, and I bite my lip, turning my head away. Oh, God, he’s going to think I’m so inexperienced. I’ve never seen a naked man before, and the sight of his erect penis—he’s hard for me —makes my face heat.

Is he going to compare me to his past lovers? This will be my first time having sex, but I know for a fact that it’s not Dante’s. He’s eleven years older than me, so it stands to reason that he’s had a steady stream of lovers.

Is he going to compare me to his past hookups and girlfriends? Oh, God. There’s no way I’ll compare…

“Hey,” Dante says gently, placing one finger under my chin so I’m forced to look into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

I’m suddenly aware of my own nakedness, and I want to cover myself, to not give Dante the opportunity to compare me to other women.

He must be aware of my thoughts because his brown eyes soften and he brings me into the sweetest kiss, his lips brushing mine tenderly. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, Chiara Marino,” he whispers, stroking back my dark hair.

He doesn’t mean that. There’s no way.

“Do you know how long I’ve been dreaming about this?” he continues, his eyes boring into mine. “You are the only woman for me. The only woman I’ve been thinking about, yearning for, for years . It’s always been you, Chiarina. No one else.”

His words bring tears to my eyes, and my heart swells with love, especially at his use of his special nickname for me. I don’t trust myself to speak, but I nod. He rolls onto me, his weight pressing me into the blankets, his body warm and solid against mine. I can feel his heartbeat, a steady rhythm that matches my own frantic one.

His hands explore my body, learning every curve and dip. His fingers trail down my spine, and I gasp, pressing into him. My skin feels like it’s on fire wherever he touches. His lips follow, kissing a path down my neck, across my collarbone. My heart races, anticipation building inside me.

“Dante, please,” I breathe, my voice catching.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.

“Yes,” I say, my voice firm with conviction. “I’ve never been more sure. I want this. I want you .”

He kisses me again, deeply, passionately, and I lose myself in the sensation. His hands are everywhere, touching, caressing, igniting every nerve. He takes his time, being incredibly gentle, his movements deliberate and loving. There’s a slight pressure, and my body tenses as it realizes something is trying to gain entry. But Dante kisses me until I relax, and then the pressure and pain quickly fade into something else entirely.

Something wonderful.

I know this is where I belong. I’ve made my choice, and it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. Dante is my heart, my world, and I am his. In this moment, I am more than glad to have given him the most special and precious parts of me—my love, my trust, and my virginity.

We move together, finding a rhythm, our bodies perfectly in sync. It’s everything I ever hoped it would be—passionate, exhilarating, intimate. Each thrust, each touch, brings us closer together, binds us in a way that feels unbreakable.

Dante’s gentleness amazes me. He reads my body like a map, knowing exactly where to touch, where to kiss. His fingers find the sensitive spot between my legs, and I cry out, arching into him. He doesn’t stop, bringing me to the edge.

“Dante!” I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion.

I shatter around him, waves of pleasure crashing over me. Dante’s breathing becomes more labored, his hips moving jerkily against me until?—

A sharp knock shatters the dream, yanking me back to my bedroom. I blink, disoriented, my heart still racing, my body still tingling. For a moment, I can’t place where I am. The details of the dream linger, a mix of pleasure and embarrassment washing over me as I realize what had happened.

I was dreaming about Dante. Again. About our first time together, nearly six months ago. My cheeks flush hotly. Despite the interruption, I can feel the dampness between my thighs, the undeniable evidence that my body responded to the dream as if it were real. It astonishes me, the hold he has on me, even in his absence.

Another knock, more insistent this time. “Chiara, are you awake?” Mia’s voice is muffled through the door. “Papa needs to talk to you.”

I take a deep breath, willing the lingering sensations to fade, and sit up. “I’m coming,” I call back, my voice rough with sleep and something else. I run a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream.

Dante’s face, his touch, his voice—they’re still so clear in my mind. I can’t believe the power he has over me, body and soul. I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself. He’s always been able to get under my skin in the best possible way.

We’ve been secretly together ever since he kissed me by the fountain nearly a year ago, when he promised to help me get out of any marriage that my father arranges for me.

Reality crashes back in, the weight of it settling on my shoulders. Papa probably wants to talk about my soon-to-be-husband. My heart sinks. It’s finally time.

Papa married off my two older sisters in quick succession—although Bianca’s was nearly a disaster—but before he could find me a suitable husband, he had a major setback with his health. Papa is dying of cancer, and his body has been weakened due to the disease ravaging his body. It took him four months before he was even able to get out of bed again.

The doctors were amazed that he was even able to leave his bed and regain his strength. But they just don’t know Papa, don’t know his strength and his stubbornness. Papa won’t let cancer set him back too long.

But while Papa was recovering, I was given a reprieve from my father’s matchmaking and able to date Dante in secret, falling deeper and deeper in love with him every moment we were together. When Papa didn’t immediately summon me after he recovered, I stupidly thought it meant Papa had a change of heart and wouldn’t be marrying Mia and me off anymore.

But he hadn’t. And now… now is my reckoning.

I’ve been dreading this conversation. Papa won’t ever consider a man like Dante to be a suitable husband.

Dante—the son of my father’s underboss. He doesn’t have the family name or the prestige to merit my hand. My father would never approve of him, no matter how much Dante means to me. The love we share, the connection that feels like it’s written in the stars, won’t count for anything when it comes to family expectations and alliances.

Mia knocks again at my door, this time more impatient.

“Keeks! Are you getting up or not?”

I sigh and rub my face with my hands. I can’t keep Papa waiting all day. It’s time to have this conversation.

“Yes, Mia. I’m coming.”

But why does it feel like I’m going to my funeral?