Chapter 20
20
DANTE
T he numbers didn’t add up.
I leaned back in my chair, my fingers drumming against the polished surface of my desk as I stared at the screen in front of me. The glow of the monitor illuminated the otherwise dark room, the faint hum of the computer the only sound.
The bank records were a mess—deliberately tangled, like someone had gone out of their way to bury the trail. But they hadn’t buried it well enough.
The money had moved through a dozen different accounts, each one bouncing between shell corporations and offshore holdings designed to make it disappear. It was a labyrinth of deceit, the kind of laundering job that required time, precision, and a deep understanding of how to manipulate financial systems.
Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure this trail was impossible to follow.
But nothing was impossible.
And yet, buried beneath all the layers of deception—beneath the false names and fake corporations—there was something. A single thread that didn’t belong.
A name.
Emilia.
It wasn’t blatant. It wasn’t obvious. But it was there—tied to a dormant account that had been opened years ago, long before she ever stepped into my world. The connection was so faint, so well-hidden, that I almost missed it.
Almost.
I exhaled slowly, my jaw tightening as I stared at the name on the screen.
She hadn’t done this.
Not intentionally.
Whoever had taken the money had used her as a shield, knowing I’d find the trail eventually. Knowing I’d suspect her.
It was a calculated move. A fucking brilliant one.
And it had worked.
I clenched my fists, my pulse thrumming with something dark and violent. My mind raced, replaying every moment, every accusation, every cruel word I’d thrown her way. I had been so sure. So goddamn sure.
And I had been wrong.
I had accused her. I had made her feel like she was nothing.
And now, after all of it, I knew the truth.
I had been played.
The realization settled over me like a weight, pressing against my ribs, making it hard to breathe.
I had hurt her.
And I wasn’t sure if I could fix it.
The screen blurred as I stared at it, the rage simmering beneath my skin giving way to something colder, sharper. Whoever had done this—whoever had dared to use her against me—would pay. I’d tear them apart, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.
But that didn’t change what I’d done to Emilia.
It didn’t erase the look in her eyes when I’d accused her.
The memory twisted in my chest, a dull ache that refused to subside. I had seen it—the hurt she tried to hide, the way she’d fought back tears with that defiant tilt of her chin. And I had ignored it.
I scrubbed a hand down my face, the guilt gnawing at the edges of my control.
A soft rustling sound pulled me from my thoughts.
I glanced up, my gaze drawn to the open doorway of the bedroom.
She stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the delicate strap of her dress, her movements slow and deliberate. The morning light poured through the tall windows, bathing her in a soft, golden glow that made her look almost ethereal. The curve of her shoulder, the delicate slope of her neck, the way the fabric skimmed and clung to her frame—it was mesmerizing.
She was breathtaking.
And she had no idea I was watching her.
I leaned forward slightly, my fingers curling against the edge of the desk as I watched her from across the room.
She tied her hair up, her fingers deftly twisting the soft waves into place, exposing the elegant line of her throat. Her movements were so natural, so unselfconscious, that it was impossible not to notice the details—the way her fingers brushed against her collarbone, the slight tilt of her head as she secured the last pin in place.
Fuck.
I wanted her.
Not just the raw, insatiable need that burned through me every time she was near. No, this was more. Stronger. I wanted all of her—all her fire, her defiance, her sharp tongue, and her vulnerable moments that she tried so hard to hide.
I wanted to lay her bare, to claim every inch of her, to remind her exactly who she belonged to. I wanted to feel her nails dig into my skin, to hear the way she said my name when she couldn’t hold back anymore.
But more than that—more than the possessive hunger clawing at my insides—I wanted to protect her.
I wanted to give her everything, even if she didn’t believe it yet.
She turned slightly, her eyes catching my reflection in the mirror.
Her lips parted, her breath hitching just slightly as our gazes locked.
I didn’t look away.
Neither did she.
The air between us shifted, thick with something unspoken, something electric.
She knew.
She knew exactly what I was thinking.
And she liked it.
A slow smirk curved her lips, and she turned fully, one hand resting lightly on her hip as she faced me.
“Enjoying the view?” she asked, her voice smooth, teasing.
I stood, crossing the room in slow, deliberate steps.
She didn’t move.
Didn’t back away.
Her chin tilted up slightly as I stopped in front of her, so close I could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. Her scent wrapped around me—soft, feminine, and utterly intoxicating.
“Always,” I murmured, my fingers brushing against her waist.
She shivered under my touch, but her smirk didn’t falter.
“I have things to do today,” she said, her voice softer now, her breath catching as I dragged my fingers down the curve of her hip.
“So do I,” I replied, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. “But right now, all I want to do is ruin you.”
Her breath hitched, her composure slipping for just a moment.
I smirked, my hands tightening on her hips as I pulled her flush against me.
She gasped, her hands coming up to press against my chest, but she didn’t push me away.
She never did.
I tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“What are you in a rush to do today?”
She smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I have pictures to look at, money-stealing cousins to find.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
She shrugged, stepping back slightly, but I didn’t let her go far. My hands stayed on her waist, my fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against the fabric of her dress.
“You’re going to bring one of the albums,” I murmured.
She raised a brow. “Why?”
I smirked. “Because you’re going to sit on my lap, and we’re going to go through them together.”
She hesitated, searching my face for a moment, but then she turned and walked toward the shelf where the albums were stacked. I watched her, my gaze tracking the sway of her hips, the smooth line of her back, the way the morning light caught in the soft waves of her hair.
She returned with the album in hand, and the second she was close enough, I pulled her onto my lap.
She let out a small gasp, her hands bracing against my shoulders, but she didn’t protest.
I flipped open the album, my fingers brushing the edges of the old photographs.
“This one,” I murmured, pointing to a picture of my brothers and me as kids. “Rafe had just broken Luca’s nose.”
Emilia laughed, the sound soft and light, her body shifting slightly against mine. “What did Luca do?”
I smirked. “Deserved it.”
She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered as we flipped through the pages. My hand never left her waist, my fingers tracing absentminded patterns against her skin. She shifted again, pressing against me in a way that made my jaw tighten.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
I exhaled slowly, my grip tightening on her waist.
“Emilia.”
She hummed, feigning innocence. “Yes?”
I slid my hand higher, my fingers brushing the bare skin of her thigh.
Her breath hitched, her body tensing slightly.
“You’re playing with fire, princess,” I murmured, my lips grazing the curve of her neck.
She shivered, her head tilting slightly, giving me more access.
My control snapped.
I flipped the album shut, tossing it onto the table before gripping her chin, forcing her to look at me.
“You want to push me?” I murmured, my voice rough.
Her lips parted, her breath uneven. “Maybe.”
I smirked, my fingers trailing down her throat, pressing lightly against her pulse. It was racing.
“Then let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”
And then I kissed her.
Hard.
Possessive.
Like I was staking my claim all over again.
She melted into me, her hands tangling in my hair, her body pressing against mine in a way that made my blood run hot.
I lifted her effortlessly, carrying her toward the bed without breaking the kiss.
She gasped against my lips, her nails digging into my shoulders, her legs wrapping around my waist.
And then, just as I laid her down, she smirked up at me, her eyes glinting with challenge.
“Who’s playing with fire now?”
I growled, my lips trailing down her throat, my hands sliding beneath the fabric of her dress.
Sweet fucking hell, she was a goddess, and I was just a sinner on my knees, begging for a taste. She knew it too, the way her hips swayed, the way her eyes locked onto mine like she could see every dirty fucking thought racing through my head. And brother, there were plenty of those.
Her dress was that kind of soft, silky fabric that clung to her curves like it was begging to be ripped off. My hands were already itching to tear it apart, but I took my time. She was worth the wait, worth every second of goddamn torture. I moved closer, my fingers trailing up her thigh, feeling the heat of her skin. “You’ve been driving me crazy,” I growled, my voice low, rough. “Every fucking time I see you, I can’t think straight. You’re all I want. All I need.”
Her breath hitched as I leaned in, my lips brushing against that spot on her neck that made her melt. Fuck, she tasted like heaven and sin all at once. I nipped at her skin, dragging my teeth along her pulse point, feeling her heartbeat quicken under my mouth. “You’re mine,” I muttered against her throat, my hands sliding up to grip her hips, pressing my body into hers until her flush against me. She could feel how hard I was, how fucking desperate for her. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she whispered, her voice trembling, and I swear to fucking God, it was like music. My hands moved to the straps of her dress, sliding them down her shoulders slowly, savoring every inch of skin as it was revealed. The dress pooled at her feet, and there she was, standing in front of me like a fucking masterpiece. Her tits were perfect—full, round, just begging to be worshipped. My mouth was on her before she could even gasp, sucking one nipple into my mouth while my fingers teased the other. She arched into me, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer like she couldn’t get enough.
I let her go just long enough to strip off my shirt and belt, then I was on her again, kissing her like I was drowning and she was the only thing keeping me alive. My hands roamed her body, memorizing every inch of her—the dip of her waist, the curve of her ass, the heat between her legs. She was already wet for me, and fuck me if that didn’t make me harder than steel.
I grabbed her, lifting her from the bed with ease as she gasped, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist. In two steps, I had her pinned against the wall, my body pressing hers firmly in place. My lips found her ear, my voice a low growl. “You’re mine,” I repeated, my hand sliding between her legs, fingers finding her bare, slick heat. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”
She moaned, her hips grinding against my hand, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I yanked her panties down, kicking them aside, and slid a finger inside her. Fuck, she was tight, her walls clenching around me like she was trying to pull me deeper. I added another finger, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot that made her cry out. Her nails dug into my arms, and I could feel her trembling, her legs shaking as she got closer to the edge.
But I didn’t let her come just yet. I pulled my fingers out, ignoring her desperate whimper, and turned her around to face me. “Look at me,” I commanded, my voice rough and unrelenting. Her eyes, dark with need, locked onto mine, and for a moment, I just stared at her—flushed, trembling, and utterly perfect. Slowly, I sank to my knees before her, like a man falling to worship his god. My hands slid up her thighs, reverent, as though I wasn’t worthy of touching her, even as I spread her open like she was something sacred, something meant only for me.
Then I tasted her.
She was intoxicating—warm, sweet, and utterly addictive, like honey laced with sin. My tongue dragged through her slickness, savoring every drop, every shiver that wracked her body. She tasted like something crafted to ruin me, something I’d never be able to live without. I buried myself deeper, groaning against her as I drank her in, every flick of my tongue, every pull of my lips, pulling her closer to the edge. She was my addiction, my undoing, and I didn’t care if I drowned in her.
Her moans filled the room, raw and ragged, her fingers tangling in my hair as she ground against my mouth in desperate, frantic motions. I held her hips firmly, keeping her steady as her legs began to tremble, her body completely unraveling under me. I sucked her clit into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue, relentless until she shattered, screaming my name like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. Her body shook violently as she came, and I had to hold her up, my grip tightening as I licked her through every wave of her release, refusing to let her fall.
But I wasn’t done with her. Not even close. I stood up, lifting her into my arms and carrying her to the bed. I laid her down gently, then climbed on top of her, my cock throbbing and aching to be inside her. I lined myself up with her entrance, teasing her with the tip before pushing in slowly, inch by torturous inch. She was so fucking tight, so wet, so perfect.
“Fuck,” I groaned as I bottomed out, her walls clenching around me like a vice. “You feel so goddamn good.” I started to move, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in deep and hard. She gasped, her nails raking down my back as she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me in deeper.
I set a brutal pace, fucking her like I was trying to brand myself on her soul. Her tits bounced with every thrust, and I couldn’t resist leaning down to suck one into my mouth again, biting down just hard enough to make her scream. She was close again, I could feel it in the way her pussy tightened around me, in the way she chanted my name over and over like a prayer.
“Come for me,” I growled, my voice rough with need. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”
And she did, her body convulsing around me as she came hard, her pussy milking my cock like she was trying to get every last drop out of me. It was too much—I couldn’t hold back any longer. With a final thrust, I buried myself deep inside her and came with a roar, pumping her full of every last drop of my cum.
I collapsed on top of her, both of us breathing hard and covered in sweat. She ran her fingers through my hair, and I kissed her softly, savoring the taste of her on my lips. “You’re mine,” I whispered again, and she nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.
And I knew—I’d never get enough of her. Not in this lifetime or the next.