Chapter 36
Emilia
T he phone rang late, its vibration rattling against my nightstand like a persistent knock. I blinked at the screen, my heart skipping a beat when I saw the name. Dante.
I hesitated for a moment, my thumb hovering over the answer button. The man had a way of getting under my skin, of making me feel like I was teetering on the edge of something dangerous and thrilling. And yet, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting more.
With a deep breath, I swiped to answer. “Hello?”
“Good evening, princess,” Dante’s voice rumbled through the line, low and sultry, like velvet dragged over gravel. My stomach flipped, and I clutched the phone tighter. “I was wondering,” he drawled, his tone laced with amusement, “if you feel like being a bad girl tonight.”
My breath hitched, and I felt a flush creep up my neck, spreading like wildfire. “What?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
“You heard me,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Do you feel like being a bad girl?”
Heat pooled low in my belly, and I clenched my thighs instinctively, my mind flashing back to the last time he’d called me that—his hands on my body, his lips whispering sinful promises against my skin.
“Yes,” I whispered, the word slipping out before I could stop it.
“Good,” he said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Meet me at the spot where you pick up your Ubers.”
“How do you know about that?” I gasped, my voice a mix of curiosity and indignation. My heart was pounding now, not just from the way his voice wrapped around me like a vice, but from the realization that he’d been watching me. Paying attention.
Dante’s low chuckle rumbled through the line, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’re not as slick as you think, Emilia.”
The way he said it—so calm, so assured—made my breath catch. There was no malice in his tone, no accusation. Just a simple statement of fact, as if my life had always been his to observe, to control. And maybe it had been.
“You’re insufferable,” I muttered, though the heat in my cheeks told a different story.
“And yet, here you are,” he countered smoothly. “Now, listen carefully. Wear something that makes you look like you own the world. High-class. Sexy. But not too much—leave something for me to unwrap later.”
My stomach flipped, and I bit my lip to stifle the small gasp that threatened to escape. “Anything else, Your Majesty?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm to mask the way my pulse raced.
“Just one more thing,” he said, his voice dipping lower, darker. “I'll be there in ten."
The line went dead before I could respond, leaving me staring at my phone, the screen glowing faintly in the dim light of my bedroom. For a moment, I just sat there, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy, silken blanket.
Then I threw the covers off and bolted to my closet.
The leather leggings hugged my legs like a second skin, the glossy material catching the faint light of my vanity as I turned to inspect myself in the mirror. The champagne-colored silk top draped low in the front, the fabric whispering against my skin with every movement. It was elegant, daring, and just the right amount of provocative. Exactly what Dante would want.
I slipped on a pair of heeled boots, the sharp click of the soles against the floor grounding me as I grabbed a small clutch and headed for the door. My heart was racing, a mix of nerves and anticipation coursing through me as I made my way to the spot where I always met my Ubers.
The night air was cool against my skin, the faint hum of the city wrapping around me as I stood beneath the streetlamp. The glow cast a soft halo around me, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was stepping into a different world—a world where Dante Conti pulled the strings and I was just a willing marionette.
A sleek black car pulled up to the curb, and before I could take a step forward, the door swung open. Dante emerged, his presence commanding as always. He was dressed in all black, his tailored jacket fitting him like a glove, the open collar of his shirt revealing a hint of tanned skin. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and the intensity in his gaze made my breath hitch.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile. “Come here.”
I didn’t hesitate. I barely had a chance to take a step before he closed the distance between us, his hands gripping my waist as he pulled me flush against him. His lips crashed into mine, fierce and consuming, and I felt myself melt into him, my hands clutching at the lapels of his jacket as his tongue teased the seam of my lips.
He pressed me back against the car, his body pinning mine as his hands roamed over my hips, his touch firm and possessive. “You look good enough to eat,” he growled against my lips, his voice rough with desire.
The memory of his words—of the way he’d devoured me at his apartment—flashed through my mind, and a soft moan escaped me as his lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. I could feel the hard length of him pressing against me, a silent promise of what was to come, but before I could lose myself completely, he pulled back, his breathing heavy.
His dark eyes bored into mine as though he was searching for something—something only I could give him. My chest rose and fell in time with his, my lips tingling from the force of his kiss, and I could still feel the ghost of his fingers gripping my waist, searing through the silk of my top. Every nerve in my body was alight, and yet, somehow, I craved more.
“Get in the car,” he commanded, as he stepped back and held the door for me, his voice low and rough, the timber of it sending a shiver down my spine.
I hesitated for only a fraction of a second, my mind still spinning from the kiss, as he gestured for me to get inside. His gaze never wavered, sharp and unrelenting, and I knew there was no denying him—not when my body was already betraying me, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
The interior of the car was dark, the faint scent of leather and his cologne wrapping around me as I slid into the back seat. He followed close behind, the door shutting with a quiet thunk that seemed to echo in the confined space.
Before I could even process the change of setting, Dante was on me again, his hand gripping the back of my neck as he pulled me toward him. His lips crashed into mine with a ferocity that left me breathless, his other hand finding my thigh and sliding upward, his touch igniting sparks along my skin.
“You drive me fucking insane, Emilia,” he growled against my mouth, his voice thick with frustration and desire. “Do you know that?”
I barely managed a response, my fingers tangling in his hair as I kissed him back with equal fervor. His words sent a thrill through me, a dangerous pleasure curling low in my stomach as his hand slipped beneath the hem of my top, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my waist.
“Dante,” I gasped, pulling back just enough to look at him. His face was inches from mine, his expression raw and unguarded in a way I wasn’t used to seeing. His usual mask of control had slipped, and what lay beneath was a storm barely contained—a mix of passion, possessiveness, and something deeper, something I wasn’t ready to name.
“What is it, princess?” he murmured, his thumb brushing against the side of my neck, sending a jolt of heat through me.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words got caught in my throat. What could I say? That he made me feel alive in a way no one else ever had? That I felt like I was teetering on the edge of something dangerous and exhilarating, and I didn’t want to stop?
Instead, I pulled him back to me, my lips capturing his in a kiss that was just as desperate as the one before. His hands found my hips, lifting me effortlessly as if I weighed nothing, and before I knew it, I was straddling him, my legs wrapping around his waist as he settled back against the seat.
The position was intimate, almost too intimate, and my heart pounded in my chest as I felt the hard press of his body beneath me. His hands gripped my thighs, his fingers digging into the leather of my leggings as his lips moved against mine, demanding and insistent.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, his breath hot against my cheek as his lips trailed down my jaw. “Every time I see you, I want to tear off every piece of clothing and make you mine.”
His words sent a shiver through me, and I tilted my head back as his lips found the sensitive spot just below my ear. My hands clutched at his shoulders, my nails digging into the fabric of his jacket as a soft moan escaped me.
Dante pulled back, his breathing ragged, his hands still gripping my hips like he was anchoring himself to me. His forehead pressed against mine, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in his body coiled so tightly it felt like it might snap.
“Not here,” he murmured, his voice low and strained, like it physically pained him to stop. “We have things to do first. ”
I blinked at him, my mind still foggy from the intensity of his kiss, my body humming with unspent desire. “Things to do?” I managed, my voice breathless and slightly incredulous. “You’re the one who started this.”
His lips twitched into a faint smirk, though the fire in his eyes hadn’t dimmed. “Trust me, princess, I’m not done with you. But patience is a virtue.” His hands slid down my thighs, his touch lingering just long enough to make me shiver before he helped me off his lap and back into my seat.
I let out a frustrated sigh, adjusting my top as I tried to regain some semblance of composure. Dante, of course, looked completely unbothered, though the way his jaw tightened and his hands flexed against the steering wheel betrayed the effort it was taking for him to keep himself in check.
The car pulled smoothly onto the main road, the city lights casting fleeting shadows across his face as we drove. The tension between us was palpable, the air thick with unspoken promises and the lingering heat of his touch. I tried to focus on the passing scenery, but my eyes kept drifting back to him—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the wheel, the faint smirk that played at the corner of his lips like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
“Where are we going?” I asked finally, my voice breaking the charged silence.
“You’ll see,” he said, his tone maddeningly cryptic. His eyes flicked to me briefly, dark and smoldering, before returning to the road. “But first, let’s see if you can behave yourself.”
I frowned, about to ask what he meant, when I felt his hand on my thigh. My breath hitched as his fingers brushed against the leather of my leggings, his touch light but deliberate. He didn’t look at me, his attention seemingly focused on the road, but the smirk on his lips told me he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Dante,” I said, my voice a mix of warning and plea.
“Hmm?” he murmured, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against my thigh. “Something wrong? ”
“You’re impossible,” I muttered, though the words lacked any real bite. My body betrayed me, leaning into his touch even as my mind screamed at me to maintain some semblance of control.
His hand slid higher, his fingers brushing against the waistband of my leggings, and I bit down on my lip to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape. “You’re going to get us killed,” I managed, my voice trembling.
He chuckled, low and dangerous, the sound vibrating through me. “I can multitask, princess. Don’t worry about me.”
I glared at him, though the effect was probably ruined by the way my breath hitched when his fingers dipped just beneath the waistband. “You’re insufferable.”
“You keep saying that, Emilia. And yet, you’re not telling me to stop,” he countered, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm.
I didn’t have a response for that, mostly because he was right. I should have told him to stop, should have pushed his hand away and demanded that he focus on the road. But instead, I sat there, my body trembling under his touch, my mind a whirlwind of desire and frustration.
By the time we pulled up to the club, I was a mess. My cheeks were flushed, my breathing uneven, and my body thrummed with the kind of tension that made it impossible to think straight. Dante, of course, looked as composed as ever, though the glint in his eyes and the faint smirk on his lips told me he was fully aware of the effect he’d had on me.
He stepped out of the car first, coming around to open my door before offering me his hand. “Come princess,” he said, his voice low and commanding.
I took his hand, the warmth of his skin against mine sending a jolt through me as he helped me out of the car. The club loomed ahead of us, its sleek, modern facade glowing with neon lights that pulsed in time with the bass thumping from inside. Not one I recognized, and certainly not one I've ever ventured to alone. A line of people stretched down the block, their eager chatter filling the air, but Dante bypassed them entirely, leading me toward a side entrance guarded by two imposing men in suits.
The guards stepped aside without a word, their gazes fixed straight ahead as Dante led me through the side entrance like he owned the place—which, knowing him, he probably did. The hallway we entered was dimly lit, the muffled thrum of the music vibrating through the walls. It was quieter here, a stark contrast to the chaos I could already feel brewing on the other side of the doors.
Dante’s hand remained firmly on the small of my back, guiding me with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down my spine. Every brush of his fingers against me felt deliberate, a silent reminder that I was his tonight. Maybe always.
We emerged into the main area of the club, and the shift in atmosphere was immediate. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, sweat, and alcohol. The music was loud, a pulsing beat that seemed to sync with the pounding of my heart. Bodies moved on the dance floor in a chaotic rhythm, a blur of glittering dresses and sharp suits under the strobe lights.
Dante didn’t stop to take it in. He moved with purpose, his hand never leaving my back as he guided me through the crowd. People parted for him instinctively, their gazes flicking to him with a mix of curiosity and deference. He didn’t acknowledge them, his focus entirely on me.
We reached a staircase tucked away in the corner, guarded by another set of men in suits. They nodded at Dante, stepping aside to let us pass without question. He led me up the stairs, the noise of the club fading slightly as we ascended. At the top, a set of double doors opened into what could only be described as luxury incarnate.
The VIP lounge was gorgeous. Plush velvet sofas in deep jewel tones were arranged in intimate clusters, accented by gold and marble details. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the dance floor below, offering a perfect view of the chaos we’d just left behind. A sleek bar lined one wall, staffed by a bartender who moved with practiced efficiency, and a small group of people lounged on the sofas, their laughter low and indulgent.
Dante led me to a corner of the lounge, his hand finally leaving my back as he gestured for me to sit on one of the sofas. “Stay here,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’ll be safe. My men are watching.”
I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. “And where will you be?”
He smirked, leaning down until his face was inches from mine. “I’ll be close. I have some business to handle, but I’ll be able to see you from the office.” He gestured toward a glass-walled room that overlooked both the lounge and the club below. “You’ll behave, won’t you, princess?”
The challenge in his tone made my blood simmer, but I forced a sweet smile. “Of course. I’m always on my best behavior.”
Dante chuckled, the sound low and dark, before straightening and brushing a finger under my chin. “Good girl. Don’t get into trouble.”
And just like that, he was gone, disappearing into the office with the kind of confidence that made people move out of his way without a second thought. I watched him go, my gaze lingering on the broad set of his shoulders and the way his presence seemed to command the entire room.
With a sigh, I sank back into the sofa, my fingers brushing against the cool fabric as I tried to relax. But it was impossible. My mind was still buzzing from the car ride, from the way his hands had felt on my skin, the way his voice had wrapped around me like a velvet leash. I couldn’t stop replaying it in my head, the heat of his touch, the hunger in his eyes.
I glanced toward the office, my eyes narrowing as I spotted him through the glass. He was speaking with his brothers, their expressions serious as they gestured toward a tablet on the desk. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the tension in their posture was unmistakable.
For a while, I just watched him, my gaze tracing the sharp lines of his face, the way his hands moved as he spoke. He was captivating in a way that felt almost dangerous, like staring too long might burn me. And yet, I couldn’t look away.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement.
A woman entered the office, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she approached Dante and his brothers. She was tall and striking, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders in loose waves. Her dress was sleek and fitted, the kind of thing that screamed wealth and confidence. She greeted Dante with a smile, her hand brushing his arm as she leaned in to speak.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat. Something about the way she moved, the familiarity in her touch, made my stomach twist.
Dante glanced at her, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned in slightly, listening intently to whatever she was saying. She laughed at something, the sound light and melodic, and I hated how effortless it all seemed. Like she belonged there. Like she belonged with him.
Something cold and sharp curled in my stomach, a bitter weight I couldn’t ignore. I felt like I was intruding on something I wasn’t meant to see. Like I didn’t belong here.
And maybe I didn’t.
I tore my gaze away, but the image was burned into my mind. Her hand on his arm. His lack of reaction. The easy way they seemed to fit together.
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I exhaled shakily, my chest tightening with something I didn’t want to name.
What the hell was this?
I didn’t know, but I hated it.