Chapter 27
27
DANTE
S he exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for years.
The moment Emilia finished telling me everything—about Rocco, about the photo, about the day in her father’s office—it was like watching a storm finally break. Her shoulders dropped. Her jaw unclenched. The tension that had been coiled in her body since the gala began slowly unraveled, thread by thread, until she was just… breathing.
And I hated that I hadn’t noticed it sooner.
I hated that she’d been carrying that weight alone, while I’d been too distracted, too wrapped up in my own suspicions and anger to see what was right in front of me.
She trusted me with the truth. And I’d failed to give her the same in return.
The car hummed beneath us, the city lights casting shifting shadows across her face as we sped through the streets. She was quiet now, staring out the window, her fingers resting lightly on her lap. But I could still feel the echo of her words in the air between us.
Rocco.
The betrayal was a slow burn in my chest, but right now, it wasn’t the fire that had my attention.
It was her.
I reached over, my hand finding hers, and she turned to look at me, her expression unreadable.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice low. “For not seeing it. For not listening. For making you feel like you were on your own.”
Her eyes searched mine, and for a second, I thought she might look away. But she didn’t.
“You’re not the only one who missed it,” she said quietly. “I didn’t realize it was him until tonight.”
“Still,” I murmured, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “You trusted me with it. And I’ll make it right.”
She gave me a small, tired smile. “You already are.”
That should’ve been enough. But it wasn’t.
I wanted to do more. I needed to do more.
“I know we didn’t exactly have a honeymoon,” I said, my tone shifting, lighter now, but still edged with something real. “But once this is over—once we deal with Rocco—I want to take you to Italy. Just us. No business. No family. Just you, me, and a villa with a view.”
She raised a brow, amused. “Even if someone outbids us tonight?”
I smirked. “Especially if someone outbids us. I’ll buy the whole damn vineyard if I have to.”
She laughed, and the sound hit me square in the chest. It was the first time she’d really laughed all night, and I wanted to bottle it. Keep it. Live in it.
“Good,” she said, her voice dipping into something sultry, teasing. “Then when we get home, you can get on your knees and start making it up to me.”
My grip on the steering wheel tightened, and I turned to her with a slow, dangerous grin.
“Oh, princess,” I said, my voice dropping to a growl. “You say that like it’s a punishment.”
Her eyes sparkled, lips curving into that wicked smile I’d come to crave. “Isn’t it?”
I reached over, my hand sliding up her thigh, slow and deliberate. The slit in her dress made it easy—too easy—and I didn’t stop until my fingers brushed the edge of her lace panties.
She sucked in a breath, her back pressing slightly into the seat.
“You looked so good tonight,” I murmured, my fingers tracing the edge of the lace. “That dress. Those heels. The way you walked into that room like you owned it.”
Her breath hitched as I slipped my fingers beneath the fabric, finding her already warm, already wet.
“You knew exactly what you were doing,” I said, my voice rough now. “Driving me fucking insane.”
“Dante,” she whispered, her hand gripping the edge of the seat.
“Shh,” I said, my fingers moving in slow, teasing circles. “Let me make it up to you.”
She moaned softly, her legs shifting apart just enough to give me more room. The car was dark, the windows tinted, the road ahead empty. We were ghosts in the city, moving through the night like we didn’t belong to it.
I kept my eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel, the other between her thighs, coaxing soft, breathy sounds from her lips.
“You’re mine,” I said, my voice low, possessive. “Every inch of you.”
Her head fell back against the seat, her eyes fluttering shut as my fingers slid deeper, curling just right.
She whimpered, her hips lifting slightly, chasing the pressure.
“I think about it all the time,” I growled. “About you. About this. About how good you taste when you come on my tongue.”
“Dante—” Her voice broke, breathless and desperate.
I leaned closer, my mouth brushing her ear. “You want to come for me, baby?”
She nodded, her breath catching.
“Say it.”
“I want to come,” she whispered. “Please.”
I groaned, my fingers moving faster, harder, until she was gasping, her body trembling beneath my touch. She bit her lip, trying to stay quiet, but I heard it—the soft, broken moan that slipped past her lips as she came, her thighs clenching around my hand.
I didn’t stop until she was shaking, until she was panting, until her hand gripped my wrist and pulled me gently away.
I brought my fingers to my lips, tasting her, savoring her.
She watched me, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
“You’re insane,” she whispered.
I smirked. “Only for you.”
She laughed, low and breathless, and leaned over to press a kiss to my jaw.
I kept driving, my hand returning to the wheel, but the air between us had shifted. It wasn’t just lust. It wasn’t just hunger.
It was something deeper.
Something dangerous.
Something that felt a hell of a lot like love.
And as the city lights faded behind us and the penthouse came into view, I knew one thing for certain:
I’d get on my knees for her.
The car slid into the private garage beneath the penthouse like a shadow slipping into darkness. The engine purred to a stop, and the silence that followed was thick with everything we hadn’t said in the last ten minutes—everything I’d done to her with one hand on the wheel and the other buried between her thighs.
She was still flushed, still catching her breath, her dress rumpled just enough to remind me of what I’d done. What I’d tasted. What I wanted more of.
I killed the engine, unbuckled my seatbelt, and turned to her.
“Stay there,” I said, my voice low and rough.
She arched a brow, lips still swollen from biting back moans. “Bossy.”
I smirked. “You like it.”
She didn’t argue.
I stepped out, the cool air of the garage brushing against my skin, grounding me just enough to keep my control from snapping entirely. I rounded the car, my shoes echoing against the concrete, and opened her door.
She looked up at me, eyes dark, lips parted, and I reached for her hand.
But I didn’t help her out.
Not right away.
Instead, I leaned in, one hand braced on the roof of the car, the other sliding up her bare thigh again, slow and deliberate.
“You said I could get on my knees,” I murmured, my mouth brushing her ear. “You didn’t say I had to wait until we were inside.”
Her breath hitched.
I dropped to my knees right there in front of her, the hem of her dress pooling around her thighs like midnight silk. The garage was empty, silent except for the low hum of the city above us and the sound of her breathing picking up again.
She shifted in the seat, her legs parting slightly.
Invitation accepted.
I pushed the fabric of her dress higher, exposing the lace I’d already ruined earlier. My fingers hooked into the waistband, and I tugged her panties down her thighs, slow and reverent, like I was unwrapping a gift I already knew I’d never deserve.
She lifted her hips just enough to help me, and I slid them off completely, tucking them into my jacket pocket like a trophy.
Then I looked up at her.
“Put your legs on the seat,” I said, my voice low and commanding.
She obeyed, slowly, her heels resting on the edge of the leather, her thighs spread wide. Her hands gripped the sides of the seat, knuckles white, as I leaned in.
And tasted her again.
She gasped, her back arching, her fingers digging into the leather. I groaned against her, the taste of her still fresh on my tongue, the heat of her driving me insane.
I licked slowly, deliberately, savoring every reaction—every twitch, every moan, every breathless curse she whispered into the air.
“Dante—” she gasped, her voice breaking.
I didn’t stop.
I couldn’t.
I wrapped my arms around her thighs, holding her in place, and devoured her like a man starved. I sucked, licked, teased until she was shaking again, her cries echoing off the concrete walls of the garage.
She came with a broken moan, her body trembling under my mouth, and I kept going until she was gasping, begging, her hands in my hair trying to pull me away.
Only then did I lift my head, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, my breathing ragged.
She looked wrecked.
Beautiful.
Mine.
I stood slowly, towering over her, and leaned in to kiss her—deep and filthy, letting her taste herself on my tongue.
She moaned into my mouth, her hands gripping my jacket, pulling me closer.
When I finally pulled back, I rested my forehead against hers, both of us breathing hard.
“I’ll get on my knees for you every damn day,” I whispered. “But don’t think for a second I won’t make you pay for it later.”
She laughed, breathless and dazed. “Looking forward to it.”
I helped her out of the car, her legs still a little shaky, and wrapped my arm around her waist as we made our way to the elevator.
The ride up was silent, but not empty.
It was full of promises.
Of revenge.
Of pleasure.
Of everything we were about to become.
And as I looked at her—flushed, radiant, still trembling from my mouth—I knew one thing with absolute certainty:
I’d burn the world for this woman.
And I’d start with Rocco.