Chapter 34
34
DANTE
I knew she was leaving before she even touched the door. How? Because I knew my wife better than she knew herself. I knew the itch under her skin would be gnawing at her to do something bad.
The second her Uber pinged on the tracker I’d installed on her phone—discreetly, of course—I leaned back in my chair, exhaled through my nose, and muttered, “She’s really doing it.”
Rafe glanced up from the folder he was reading across the table, one brow raised. “Doing what?”
I didn’t answer right away. I was too busy watching the little blue dot on my screen move steadily away from the penthouse. She’d changed her name in the app to “Mrs. Smith.” Cute.
“Emilia’s going out,” I said finally, setting my phone down with a quiet thud. “To the bar.”
Luca, who was lounging on the couch with a drink in one hand and his feet on the coffee table like he didn’t give a shit about the family legacy, snorted. “Again? Didn’t she learn her lesson the last time she tried to sneak out?”
“This time she didn’t sneak,” I said, smirking. “She told me. With sass.”
Rafe leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his expression more serious. “You’re letting her go alone?”
“She’s not alone,” I said, already texting one of my men. “Leo’’s guy is tailing her. And I’ll be meeting her there.”
Rafe raised a brow. “You’re going to a bar?”
“I have a date,” I said, standing and adjusting my cuffs. “With my wife.”
Luca laughed. “How the mighty have fallen.”
I didn’t bother denying it. I just buttoned my jacket and checked my watch—still on my wrist, for now.
We were in the war room, tucked away in the Conti estate, the walls lined with maps and monitors and enough firepower to start a small war. The air was thick with tension, the kind that came from too many secrets and not enough time.
“Back to business,” Rafe said, flipping a page. “Valentina sent over the last wire transfer. Rocco moved the money through a shell company in Prague. The Russians were waiting.”
“Romanov?” I asked.
“Not directly,” Luca said. “But someone close. A lieutenant. They’re keeping their hands clean.”
I nodded, jaw tight. “They won’t stay clean for long.”
“There’s fallout,” Rafe added. “Some of the older guys are pissed. They think you moved too fast. Too public.”
“Good,” I said. “Let them be pissed.”
“They’re talking about loyalty,” Luca said. “About blood.”
“Rocco lost the right to call himself family the second he sold us out,” I said, my voice flat. “Anyone who disagrees can get fucked.”
Luca raised his glass. “To the family.”
I ignored him.
“They’re going to retaliate,” Rafe said. “The Russians. You know that, right?”
I nodded. “Let them try.”
“You think Valentina’s enough to keep them off our backs?”
“She’s close to Nikolai,” I said. “And Nikolai’s the only one Aleksander listens to. If she says back off, they’ll back off.”
“For now,” Luca muttered.
“That’s all I need,” I said. “Time.”
Rafe studied me for a moment, then nodded. “What’s your next move?”
I glanced at my phone again. The blue dot had stopped moving. She was at the bar.
“My next move,” I said, grabbing my coat, “is to go meet my wife.”
Luca grinned. “Tell her I said hi.”
“Tell her yourself,” I said. “She’s probably already stolen your wallet.”
The bar was dim, crowded, and loud enough that I had to shoulder my way through a pack of drunk twenty-somethings just to get to the back. It wasn’t the kind of place I usually went—too messy, too public—but Emilia had a way of dragging me into chaos like it was foreplay.
And tonight?
Tonight, she was playing a game.
I spotted her immediately.
She was perched on a stool at the corner of the bar, legs crossed, a drink in her hand, her hair swept up in a messy bun that made her look both dangerous and entirely too inviting. She wore a short black dress that clung to her like a second skin, heels that could kill a man, and a smile that said she already had.
She didn’t look at me when I approached.
Didn’t acknowledge me.
She just sipped her drink and said, “Buy a girl a drink, stranger?”
I smirked.
“Depends,” I said, sliding onto the stool beside her. “You always talk to strange men in bars?”
“Only the dangerous-looking ones,” she said, eyes flicking to mine. “You look like trouble.”
“I am,” I said. “You should probably leave with me.”
She laughed, low and wicked. “What makes you think I’d do that?”
I leaned in, my mouth brushing her ear. “Because I know exactly how you taste when you come.”
She shivered, but her smile didn’t falter. “Bold of you to assume I’m that easy.”
“Not easy,” I said, reaching for her hand. “Just mine.”
She let me take it, her fingers curling around mine. And then, somehow, without me even noticing, she slipped my watch off my wrist.
I blinked.
She held it up, grinning. “You really need to stop letting me do that.”
“How do you do it?” I asked, genuinely impressed.
She winked. “ I’ll never reveal my secrets .”
I slipped the watch back into my pocket, shaking my head. “You’re exhausting.”
She slid off the stool with a slow, deliberate grace, stepping into my space until the air between us felt charged. Her voice was soft but edged with something wicked. “And yet, I’m the only thing you never get tired of.”
I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Trying to take me home, stranger?” she teased.
“Trying to fuck you in my car,” I said.
Her eyes darkened. “Well, when you put it like that…”
The second we were in the car, she was on me.
Kissing me like she hadn’t already had me a hundred times. Like she was starving. Like I was the only thing keeping her alive.
I didn’t stop her. I couldn’t.
I shoved the seat back, grabbed her by the hips, and pulled her into my lap, her legs spreading to straddle me. Her dress bunched up around her thighs, the heat of her sinking into me as she pressed against my chest. She kissed me hard, her lips bruising, her tongue desperate, her hands threading into my hair like she needed something to hold onto or risk falling apart.
I groaned as she rolled her hips against mine, the friction almost enough to make me lose my mind. “God, you drive me insane,” I muttered against her mouth, my voice rough, raw.
She laughed, breathless, her lips brushing mine as she whispered, “Good.”
I didn’t waste another second. My hand slid between us, shoving her panties to the side. My fingers found her slick and ready, and I didn’t hold back.
She gasped, her head falling back, and I took advantage, kissing down her throat, biting at the sensitive skin there just hard enough to leave a mark. She moaned my name like a prayer, like it was the only thing she could say.
“Say it again,” I growled, slipping a finger inside her.
Her nails dug into my shoulders, her body arching into mine. “Dante—fuck?—”
I added another finger, curling them just right, and she shattered, crying out as her body trembled in my hands. Her thighs clenched around me, her nails dragging down my back through my shirt, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
I didn’t stop. Not until she was trembling, her head falling forward, her forehead pressed against mine. Her breath was hot, erratic, her lips brushing mine as she exhaled.
“Beautiful,” I murmured, my hands gripping her hips as I held her steady. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
Her lips curled into a wicked smile, and without a word, she reached down, unzipping my pants with a deliberate slowness that made my pulse spike. She freed me, her fingers wrapping around me with enough pressure to make me groan.
“Your turn,” she whispered, her voice low, teasing.
I laughed, dark and rough, my head falling back against the seat. “You’re going to kill me.”
Her smirk turned sharper, her eyes glittering with something dangerous. “Good.”
And then she took me.
She sank down onto me, slow at first, torturous, her lips parting as she let out a breathless moan. My hands gripped her thighs, my fingers digging into her skin as she began to move, her rhythm steady, purposeful, like she wanted to ruin me.
And she did.
She rode me like she was proving a point, her body moving with a rhythm that was as punishing as it was perfect. Her nails dragged down my chest, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as she took exactly what she wanted.
And I let her. Hell, I’d have given her anything in that moment.
My hands gripped her thighs, my fingers digging into her soft skin as I matched her movements, driving her closer, chasing the edge that was already burning through me. She was relentless, her body arching, her head falling back, and I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t think of anything but the way she moved, the way she felt, the way she fucking owned me without even trying.
When I came, it hit me like a wildfire, burning through every nerve, leaving nothing untouched. She followed, her body trembling against mine, her hands clutching at my shoulders as if I was the only thing keeping her upright.
For a long moment, neither of us moved, the only sound in the car the jagged rhythm of our breathing. Her forehead dropped to mine, her lips brushing against me as she whispered, “You’re mine, Dante.”
A sharp laugh escaped me, rough and low, as I tilted her chin up to meet my eyes. “No, Emilia,” I murmured, my voice still thick with everything she’d just done to me. “You’re mine. Don’t ever forget it.”
And as I kissed her again, slow and deep, I knew I’d spend the rest of my life making sure she never did.
“So…” she whispered, “still mad I left?”
I chuckled, brushing a hand through her hair. “You never really left.”
She smiled against my skin. “No. I didn’t.”
And that was the truth.
Because no matter how many games she played, how many times she tried to run, she always came back.
To me.
To us.
To this.
And I’d follow her every damn time.
Even if it meant chasing her into a bar and fucking her in the backseat like a teenager.
Because she was mine.
And I was hers.
And that would never change.