Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Dante
“Are you kidding me? Neither of those options are a real choice. None of the above.”
“Perhaps a spanking is a better one?”
“A…” She gasps. “Jesus.” Then her eyes narrow threateningly. “You wouldn’t dare.”
What the hell is wrong with me when it comes to her? “Push me much further, princess.”
Her eyes dance with challenge and resolve. “You’re not that much of a monster.”
“Try me. I’d enjoy every moment of reddening your ass.” Very much so. Listening to her whimpers, feeling the wiggle of her body over my legs…
Oh yes. The truth is, I’d enjoy every moment of reddening her sweet, curvy ass.
She pulls back, and the bra strap slips a little more.
“What will it be, Valentina?”
Glaring, her hands balled into fists at her sides, she huffs out a breath. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Stand still.”
Gunfire couldn’t move me.
Valentina sways toward me as she rises onto her tiptoes. Then she gently brushes her lips against my cheek before pulling away and taking a step back.
“Nice try.” I chuckle as I capture her wrist. “A real kiss, Valentina. Make me feel it.”
“You are a bastard.”
“Regardless. Do as you’re told. Last chance.”
With a soul-deep sigh, she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. Then she looks at me, her expression spitting fire. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
“Fine.”
Though she’s less than enthusiastic, I smile. I’ll take my wins as I can get them.
The Russo princess rises on her toes.
Her lips brush mine, tentatively at first, a soft press that sends fire through my veins.
“Nice start.”
“That’s not enough for you?”
“Not nearly enough.”
Once more, she brushes her lips against mine.
I don’t move, don’t respond. This is about her earning her way into my good graces, and I want her to take the lead.
But when her tongue darts out, tasting me, my restraint is gone.
I fucking want her.
I deepen the kiss, my hand fisting in her hair, tilting her head back to claim her mouth fully.
She tastes of coffee and defiance, but her body melts against mine as I explore her, my tongue tangling with hers.
I press a hand to her buttocks, bringing her against my erection.
The kiss turns hungry, desperate as her fingers dig into my shirt.
As if against her own judgment, she pulls me closer, and a moan escapes from her throat, vibrating into me.
Fuck me.
My future bride is beautifully responsive, as if this is meant to be.
Her hips shift against mine, seeking friction, and my cock hardens even more, painful, pressing into her belly.
I break the kiss, both of us breathing hard, her lips swollen, eyes glazed with the same need that’s consuming me.
If I don’t get a grip, I’m going to throw her down on the bed and fuck her hard. And that’s not happening until my ring is on her finger.
Instead, I pretend to be unaffected. “Such a good girl.”
I release her and stride to the closet where I grab my silk robe. “I keep my word,” I say as I drape it over her shoulders.
Not looking at me, she slips her arms in, tying the belt loosely, but since it’s massive on her slight frame, the neck gapes just enough to tease me with glimpses of lace and skin.
She might be covered now, but she’s as affected by me as I am by her. She’s still vulnerable. And she’s still mine.
The sight of her, wearing my clothing, standing in place, wide-eyed, marked by my scent, stirs a primal reaction in me. It’s a possessiveness I never expected to feel this intensely.
She adjusts the collar, her fingers trembling slightly, and I can’t resist. I back her toward the bed, my hands on her hips, guiding her until the mattress hits the back of her knees. She sits, looking up at me with wide eyes, and I kneel between her legs, pushing the robe open wider.
“Moretti…” There’s a plea in her voice now, but I shake my head.
“Dante.” I press a kiss to her inner thigh, feeling her quiver. “You’ll call me Dante.”
Frantically she shakes her head. “Not ever.” But her breath catches as I trail kisses higher, my fingers hooking into the edge of her panties.
I slide her panties down, exposing her, the scent of her arousal hitting me like a drug.
She’s wet, glistening, and I run a finger along her seam, feeling her slick heat coat my skin.
Softly she gasps, gripping the sheets hard, and I lean in, flicking out my tongue to taste her.
Goddamn.
She’s sweet and addictive, and she bucks against my mouth, whimpering softly.
“Moretti…”
I devour her, licking and sucking, holding her thighs apart as she writhes under me.
Every deliberate stroke of my tongue draws more moans from her as her body arches, the tension building in her muscles.
“I don’t want this.” Ineffectively she tries to push me away.
“No?” I press my finger to her clit. “You don’t want this?”
She lifts up, demanding more.
“Not from you.”
Now who’s the liar, Valentina?
No other woman has ever said this to me. And I make their hunger, their vocal approval, worth it with my touch.
If she were anyone else, I’d slide a finger inside her and get her off, generously, time and again until she could no longer remember her name.
But my future wife?
Maddening, infuriating woman.
Her mouth says one thing while her body says another.
And suddenly I want her desperate on our wedding night.
With determination I continue on, holding her labia apart, licking, sucking, teasing.
But the moment I feel the shift in her, I pull back.
Our gazes collide.
She curses the day I was born.
And frankly, I’m glad.
The reminder is a cold splash of water on my libido.
Claiming her tomorrow, hearing her call me Dante, will be all the sweeter. “Enjoy your evening, Princess.”
“You’re… What?” Clutching the robe’s lapels tight, she scoots away from me. “Where are you going?”
I straighten the front of my slacks. “Out.”
After knocking on the door in a prearranged signal with my man, I turn back to her. “I’ll see if you masturbate.” I grin. “If you do, I will control your orgasms for the rest of your life.”
She presses herself against the headboard. “You are fucking diabolical.”
I lift a shoulder in a shrug, wanting nothing more than to watch her play with her pussy. “Enjoy yourself.”
This time, I don’t look back, can’t or I’ll go back and give her an earth-shattering climax she’ll never forget.
I leave her there, locking the door behind me, my body screaming in protest.
“My brother’s house,” I tell Adriano.
“Sir.” He nods.
Downstairs, I pour myself a double shot of Bonds whiskey, trying to exorcise thoughts of the woman upstairs in my bed.
She can deny it all she wants, but she’s aching for my touch.
And if I don’t fucking get thoughts of her out of my head, my balls are going to explode.
The whiskey barely takes the edge off.
Which is partially a good thing.
There are very real threats I have to consider around tomorrow’s nuptials.
I am driven once more to my brother’s house, where we meet with Nico. Nash is in attendance, along with a representative from our outside security firm, Hawkeye, to go over all the fine details.
As expected, Nico confirms that Valentina’s brother has accepted our invitation to attend the wedding. Which means a Russo and a soldier will be in the cathedral. And we cannot allow bloodshed there.
And we will need to be on alert to other threats.
But if anyone thinks they can take her from me…
I rock forward onto my toes.
Suddenly I’m aware of the silence in the study. Everyone is focused on me. And Nash has one eyebrow raised as he looks at me.
“Dante?” Matteo prompts.
Furious at myself—and her—for my lapse in concentration, I tell Nash to go over the last details one more time.
He discusses the arrival of a decoy car, with a Hawkeye agent dressed in a white gown. The first vehicle will arrive at the front entrance while Valentina is delivered to a more private entrance.
“We can secure that one,” Nash promises. “I have men already in place.”
I nod.
For the next hour, all of us pick apart the plan before we reach an agreement.
“You have men in Dallas?” I ask the Hawkeye representative.
“And at the airports.” Hawkeye’s second-in-command, Inamorata, nods. “There won’t be a single Russo goon getting anywhere near Houston without your knowledge.”
I nod.
Hawkeye is a trusted ally. Better than almost anyone, he understands high-value target risks.
We use their services whenever we need extra manpower. And their monitoring devices are made by Julien Bonds himself. Only the best for the Moretti family.
Tomorrow we don’t have to worry only about Valentina’s potential abduction. We need to be prepared to protect my brother from an assassination attempt.
Nash answers a few more questions. Then the meeting ends.
When the door is closed, silence shrouds us again.
Matteo stands. “I still think this is a fucking disaster waiting to happen.”
“Noted.” After glancing at my father’s portrait, I look at him again.
Nothing will convince me to change my course of action.
Maybe I am a fool.
A reckless one.
Nico pours us each a whiskey.
My brother lifts his glass in my direction. “You’d better not be wrong.”
After I leave, Adriano looks at me. “Where to, boss?”
“The Braes.” I can’t go home. To her. To temptation I’m not strong enough to withstand.
The drive to my club is a blur of city lights streaking past.
I respond to a few emails and try not to allow memories of her to filter through my brain.
But she’s there, every taste, every sound, replaying like a torment.
Why the fuck am I so hung up on her?
Goddamn it.
Once I’m inside the exclusive club, I stride straight toward the familiar escape of the bar.
Cullen Cresthaven is there, nursing a scotch, his usual polished facade cracked just a bit—tie loosened, eyes distant.
I slide onto the stool next to him, signaling the bartender for a whiskey.
“Rough night?” Cresthaven’s voice is dry, laced with irony as he glances at me.
“You could say that.” I take a swig, the slow, smooth burn grounding me.
“A woman?”
How the hell does he know that?
As if he’s heard the question, he answers, “I recognize the look.” He chuckles, but it’s hollow. Cresthaven shrugs. “The woman in question. She have anything to do with that nasty cut on your head?”
Without conscious thought, I touch the place where she’d clobbered me.
Even though I don’t respond, Cresthaven senses the truth. “Never seen you give two damns about a woman.”
I lift my glass and tip it toward him in acknowledgement. Until her, I hadn’t.
“Welcome to the club, Moretti.” The words are a scoff.
“Yeah.” This is the first time in my life that I’ve taken a drink because of the fairer sex.
He swirls his glass, staring into the amber liquid.
And I’m done with questions about my life. “Who’s got you tied up in knots?”
He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “A woman I can’t have. Shouldn’t want.”
“Jesus.” Not his son’s former wife.
It’s no secret that Cresthaven’s son married above him, even though he’s a billionaire and she wasn’t.
At the wedding, he swayed back and forth, forcing the best man to step in behind him more than once.
Kelsey, for whatever reason of her own, pretended not to notice and went ahead with the ceremony.
At the time, I guessed they wouldn’t make it six months.
I was wrong. But not by much.
If rumor was right, Cresthaven sided with his former daughter-in-law over his son in the divorce.
Silence hangs between us. Then in the distance, someone laughs.
Finally he downs the rest of his drink. “Obsession’s a bitch.”
Obsession. The word hits too close.
I think about my very real physical reaction to seeing Valentina in the wedding dress.
Eternal damnation.
I’d wanted to strip her bare and fuck her raw.
But it had been so much more than that. For a moment, she’d gotten past my defenses, made me stop thinking about my father, forget about revenge.
Instead, I’d seen her as my wife, the woman by my side, pictured her body swollen with my baby, our child.
And I’d hated my emotional, weak thoughts.
Mentally I’d shaken myself. Russo’s daughter was nothing more than a means to an end. If I didn’t hate looking at her while I was sticking my dick in her, fine. That would be a small consolation for the sacrifice I was prepared to make on my family’s behalf.
So after the kiss at the bridal shop that had unraveled her and taken me to the depths of hell, I’d put distance between us.
My words were intentionally cruel, deliberately doled out to make her recoil from me.
I was successful.
Then came remorse, a feeling I’ve never experienced before.
Damn confounding woman is crawling beneath my skin.
And I can’t let that happen.
I have to be deliberate and thoughtful.
I’m wielding her as my weapon.
Still, Matteo’s voice echoes in my head. “Have you lost your fucking mind?” Nico and Dante’s doubts ricochet.
My actions could be disastrous for our family.
I can’t deny tomorrow has risks for me, my brother, and my family. And yet every decision was the right one, the only one.
Revenge for my father, peace for our families. Still, what she does to me, the way I react… It’s not normal.
I down another sip, the alcohol doing little to dull the ache.
And even though I shouldn’t, I pull open my phone and scroll to the security app. I ensure that the privacy screen is in place so no one but me can see her.
She’s pacing the room, her hair in wild disarray around her shoulders.
The belt is tight around her waist.
Suddenly she stops and slowly turns to look up at the camera’s blinking eye, as if she knows I’m watching.
Her nostrils flare, just a little.
Then she abruptly pivots and strides to the bathroom.
Privacy be damned. Tomorrow I’m fucking having a camera installed in there. There will be no place on this planet that she can hide from me.
“We’re a pair, Moretti.”
Yeah.
I close the app and drop my phone back into my pocket.
After eating dinner, we talk for hours, sharing war stories without details, two men haunted by what we can’t control. And through it all, regrets and recriminations stab me more powerfully than any wound I’ve ever sustained.
I am an absolute bastard, as she’s repeatedly insisted.
But that realization doesn’t stop me from checking in on her again and again.
Sometime after midnight, I leave the club.
As I enter the house, there’s only one thought clawing at me.
How the hell am I supposed to slide in bed next to her without fucking her?