Chapter Seven
Adriana
I stare at the perfectly poached egg on my plate, its yolk a bright yellow eye staring back at me. The dining room is silent except for the clink of silverware. Dante’s presence looms across the table, his grey eyes watching my every move.
“How are you settling in?” he asks, his deep voice breaking the quiet.
I look up, meeting his gaze. “It’s… different. But I appreciate the home office you set up for me. It helps me focus on my work.”
A ghost of a smile flickers across Dante’s face. “Good. If you need anything else, just let me know.”
I nod, returning to my breakfast. The egg yolk breaks under my fork, golden liquid spilling across the pristine white plate.
Dante clears his throat. “We’ll be having dinner with my brother and his wife this evening.”
My stomach clenches. I remember the wedding day, the sea of unfamiliar faces, Dante’s family among them. Cold eyes and tight smiles.
“Oh,” I manage, my voice small. “That’s… nice.”
Dante’s eyes narrow slightly. Can he sense my unease? I force a smile, but my hands tremble as I reach for my coffee cup.
“It’ll be fine,” he says.
I take a sip of coffee, letting the bitter liquid coat my tongue. It does nothing to ease the knot in my stomach. The thought of facing Dante’s family again, of trying to find my place in this dangerous new world, fills me with dread.
But I’m Dante’s wife now. I have to be strong. I have to adapt. Even if every instinct screams at me to run.
A shrill ring cuts through the silence. Dante’s phone. His face hardens as he answers, all traces of softness vanishing.
“What?” he barks. The sudden shift in his demeanor makes me flinch.
I can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Dante’s voice drops to a menacing growl. “Fix it. Now. Or I’ll fix you Marco.”
My blood runs cold. This is the man I married – not the one who kisses me gently or asks about me how I am settling in, but the underboss of the Rossi crime family. A man who can order death with a single word.
Dante abruptly stands, his chair scraping against the floor. “I have business to attend to,” he says, his tone clipped.
Before I can respond, he’s at my side, bending down. His lips brush mine, soft, a stark contrast to the ice in his eyes. The kiss is brief but intense.
A soft cough startles me. I turn to see Sofia in the doorway, her face impassive as always. Heat rushes to my cheeks. How long has she been there?
Dante straightens, giving Sofia a curt nod before striding out of the room. The door slams behind him, leaving me alone with the housekeeper and my whirlwind thoughts.
I retreat to my office, desperate for the comfort of familiar surroundings. The webtoon panels spread across my drawing tablet offer a welcome distraction. I lose myself in the lines and colors, the fantastical world so far removed from my own.
After an hour, I reach for my phone. I need to hear a friendly voice.
“Rachel? It’s me,” I say when my editor picks up. “Can we talk about the latest chapter?”
The day slips away as I immerse myself in work, but anxiety gnaws at the edges of my mind. As evening approaches, my stomach twists into knots. I stand before the full-length mirror, scrutinizing my reflection in black lace lingerie.
A creak of the door. My heart stutters.
Dante’s reflection appears behind me, his eyes roaming over my exposed skin. He moves with predatory grace, each step deliberate. I’m frozen, caught between fear and a traitorous spark of desire.
“Sexy,” he says, voice low and dangerous.
I instinctively reach for my robe on the bed. “Dante, I—”
“Don’t.” His command cuts through the air. “Keep your hands at your sides.”
I obey, pulse racing. His fingers ghost along my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He grasps my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze in the mirror.
“I have half a mind to cancel dinner,” Dante growls. “To keep you here and fuck you until you can’t walk straight.”
My cheeks burn. “But your family—”
“Can wait.” His lips caress my neck. “You’re my wife. My priority.”
I tremble, torn between duty and the heat pooling in my core. “We can’t disappoint them,” I respond, unsure if I’m trying to convince him or myself.
I swallow hard, struggling to find my voice. “It… it wouldn’t be right,” I stammer, my face burning hotter. “They’ve prepared this dinner especially to meet me. We can’t just… not show up.”
Dante’s eyes darken, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Always so proper,” he says, his fingers trailing down my spine. “But tell me, cara, don’t you want to be a good sister-in-law?”
My brow furrows in confusion. “I don’t understand—”
His hands settle on my hips, turning me to face him fully. “Let me taste you,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Just a little appetizer before dinner.”
My heart thunders in my chest as I struggle to come up with a reply. “I… I don’t know if we should—”
Before I can finish my thought, Dante drops to his knees in front of me. My eyes widen in shock as his fingers hook into the waistband of my panties.
“Dante, what are you—”
In one swift motion, he pushes the lace aside, exposing me to his heated gaze. I gasp, my legs trembling as I struggle to stay upright.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, his breath hot against my sensitive skin.
My mind races, torn between desire and propriety. We should be leaving, not… this. But as Dante’s fingers ghost along my inner thigh, all thoughts of dinner fade away.
His tongue finds me, hot and insistent. I gasp, fingers gripping his shoulders for support. Dante’s hands slide up my thighs, anchoring me as he explores with deliberate strokes.
“Please,” I breathe, heat blooming through my body.
Dante hums against me, the vibration sending shivers up my spine. My hips rock involuntarily, chasing the sensation. He tightens his grip, holding me in place as he increases his pace.
I bite my lip, fighting back a moan. The pleasure builds, coiling tighter with each swipe of his tongue. My legs tremble, threatening to give out.
“Dante,” I whimper, “I can’t… I’m going to…”
He redoubles his efforts, one hand sliding up to cup my breast through the thin lace of my bra. The dual sensations push me over the edge. I cry out, waves of ecstasy washing over me as I shatter.
Dante stands, pulling me into a deep kiss. I taste myself on his lips, a heady mix of salt and musk. When he pulls back, a smug smile plays across his face.
“Now,” he says, voice husky, “finish getting dressed. We wouldn’t want to keep the family waiting.”
I nod dumbly, still drunk from my release. As I stumble towards the closet, Dante’s low chuckle follows me.
Twenty minutes later, we’re in the car. The leather seats feel cool against my flushed skin. Dante’s hand rests possessively on my thigh as he navigates the winding roads leading to his brother’s estate.
My heart pounds as we approach the Rossi mansion. The iron gates loom before us, intricate and foreboding. They swing open silently, swallowing us into the estate’s shadowy embrace.
I swallow hard. “Dante, I…”
He squeezes my thigh. “Breathe, cara. They’re just people.”
People who could have me killed with a snap of their fingers, I think, but don’t say.
The car crunches to a stop on the gravel drive. Dante’s at my door in an instant, offering his hand. I take it, willing my legs not to shake as I step out.
The house before us is a fortress of stone and secrets. Dark windows stare down like judging eyes. I shiver, not entirely from the evening chill.
“Ready?” Dante looks at me, his eyes studying my face.
I nod, not trusting my voice. He leads me forward, his hand a steady pressure at the small of my back.
The massive front door swings open before we reach it. Dante’s brother and wife stand framed in the entryway, their postures radiating authority.
“Carmine, Lucia,” Dante greets them, his voice carrying a weight I’ve never heard before. “May I present my wife, Adriana.”
Carmine’s grey eyes bore into me, cold and calculating. “Welcome to our home, Adriana.”
Lucia’s smile is warmer, but no less predatory. “We’ve been so looking forward to getting to know you better, dear.”
I force a smile, acutely aware of the lingering scent of Dante on my skin. “Thank you for having me.”
As we step inside, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve just walked into the lion’s den.
The dining room is dimly lit, shadows dancing across the walls like restless spirits. I take my seat beside Dante, the heavy silverware cold in my trembling hands. Carmine sits at the head of the table, his presence commanding even in silence.
“So, Adriana,” Carmine’s voice cuts through the quiet clinking of utensils. “How are you finding married life with my brother?”
I swallow hard, the bite of pasta in my mouth suddenly tasteless. “It’s… been an adjustment,” I manage to say.
Carmine’s eyes narrow, his lips curling into what might be a smile on anyone else. “An adjustment? How so?”
My heart races. I feel like a mouse being toyed with by a particularly cruel cat. “I just meant-”
“My wife is happily satisfied,” Dante interrupts, his hand finding mine under the table. His thumb traces circles on my palm, a reminder of his earlier attentions that makes heat rise to my cheeks.
Carmine’s gaze flicks between us, and I know he sees more than I want him to. “Is that so?” he muses, his tone making the innocent question feel like an accusation.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The weight of unspoken secrets hangs heavy in the air.
As the meal winds down, Carmine pushes back from the table. “Dante, a word in my office.”
It’s not a request. Dante squeezes my hand once before rising. “Of course, brother.”
I watch them go, fear clawing at my insides.
“Don’t look so worried, dear,” Lucia’s voice startles me. She gestures to the living room. “Come, sit with me. Let the men talk business.”
I follow her, my thoughts racing. As we settle onto the plush sofa, she leans in conspiratorially.
“Carmine can be… intense,” she says. “But he’s just protective of Dante. They only have each other now, you know.”
The rumors I’ve heard suddenly flood back. A fire. Screams in the night. Whispers of revenge.
“What happened to their parents?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Lucia’s smile tightens. “A tragic accident,” she says, but her eyes tell a different story.
I shudder, imagining flames licking at flesh, the acrid scent of burning. How does one survive such horror? How does it change a person?
As I sit there, surrounded by luxury built on blood and ashes, I wonder what flames are being stoked even now, and who will burn in their wake.
Lucia’s hand on my arm startles me from my dark thoughts. “Tell me, Adriana,” she says, her voice honey-sweet, “how are you finding married life?”
I swallow hard, choosing my words carefully. “It’s… an adjustment.”
She laughs, a tinkling sound that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure. Dante can be… demanding.”
Before I can respond, heavy footsteps echo down the hall. Dante and Carmine reenter, their faces unreadable masks.
“We should be going,” Dante announces, his hand finding the small of my back.
As we say our goodbyes, Carmine’s grip on my hand is just a fraction too tight. “Welcome to the family, Adriana,” he says, his smile sharp as a blade.
The night air is a relief as we step outside. I inhale deeply, trying to shake off the tension of the evening.
In the car, Dante’s fingers drum against the steering wheel. “So,” he says, breaking the silence, “what did you think?”
I hesitate, then decide on honesty. “Lucia was kind. But Carmine… he’s intimidating.”
Dante chuckles, the sound low and dark. “He has that effect. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to him in time.”
I turn to look out the window, watching the city lights blur past. I’m not sure I want to get used to any of this. But as Dante’s hand finds my thigh, possessive and warm, I wonder if I have a choice.