23. Chapter Twenty-One #2
Between my breasts, suspended from a delicate platinum chain, rests a small crystal vial filled with dark red liquid. Our mingled blood from the oath ceremony.
The vial nestles against my skin, directly over my heart, drawing attention to what it guards.
Dante's eyes fix on it, possessiveness flaring in his gaze.
"You're wearing it."
I touch the vial lightly with my fingertips.
"I thought it would be... strategic. Dominguez will see it. He'll know I'm claimed in the biggest way, but he'll still want what he can't have." I meet Dante's eyes. "Men always want what belongs to someone else."
Dante's jaw tightens. He steps closer, one large hand sliding around my bare back. "And if he tries to touch what's mine?"
I smile, feeling the weight of the vial between my breasts. "Then he learns that this blood oath goes both ways. I'm no longer just the princess who was traded away."
Dante smiles an almost sadistic smile. "You look so fucking dangerous. So fucking sexy."
"I am dangerous," I correct him, reaching to straighten his bow tie. "Your most lethal weapon tonight."
His hands find my waist, pulling me against him. Then his lips descend to my throat, teeth grazing sensitive skin before biting down with deliberate pressure.
I gasp, fingers clutching his jacket as he sucks hard enough to leave a mark.
"Dante!"
When he pulls back, satisfaction gleams in his eyes as he studies the bruise already forming on my skin. "Now everyone will know who you belong to, even while you're playing your part."
I touch the spot, feeling tenderness that borders on pleasant pain. "Was that necessary? That's why I'm wearing the vile!"
His smile is pure evil. "Entirely necessary. Why should you have all the fun?"
I shake my head and spin as Dante's hand slaps my ass. From below deck, Marco appears to announce the arrival of the first tenders bringing guests from shore.
The game begins now.
"Remember," Dante says, voice dropping to ensure only I hear his words. "Dominguez will be on the Argentinian vessel. The information we need—"
"Access codes to Algeciras and Valencia," I finish for him. "I know my mission."
"And your know your limits."
I meet his gaze steadily. "I extract information without crossing lines. I belong to you, Dante. Your blood runs in my veins now. I won't betray that."
Satisfaction softens his features momentarily. He presses a final kiss to my lips before we separate, ready to play our respective roles in tonight's deadly game.
I get to work, and by midnight, I'm on the deck of La Conquistadora , the Argentinian yacht where Xavier Dominguez has established his temporary court.
Crystal champagne flutes sparkle beneath strings of fairy lights, while beautiful people in expensive clothes perform the ancient dance of power and seduction.
I've spent hours circulating through the fleet, establishing my presence as Dante Ravelli's new bride. Accepting congratulations with gracious smiles. Deflecting questions about my transition from unwanted captive to loyal queen with well-rehearsed deflection.
"Well, well… the Castellano princess becomes Ravelli royalty," a voice observes from behind me. "How the mighty have fallen."
I turn to find Xavier Dominguez himself, thick, black hair swept back from aristocratic features that have weathered the years with distinguished grace.
At fifty, he still remains an imposing—and good looking—figure. He's tall, with large round shoulders, radiating the confidence of a man who has built an empire with bloodstained hands.
"Senor Dominguez," I greet him, offering my hand with an elegant, and subtly flirtatious curtsy. "I believe we met briefly at the Vienna summit two years ago."
"Indeed we did." He brings my fingers to his lips, holding them a moment too long. "Though you were on your father's arm then. Not a Ravelli's ."
He practically spits the name back at me, but I allow a small smile, neither confirming nor denying the implied criticism.
"Times change."
"As do allegiances, it seems." His gaze drops to the mark on my throat, lingering on the visible evidence of Dante's possession before returning to my face. "I admit, I'm surprised you are on board. The Ravellis have not been welcome on my vessels for many years."
"I'm aware of the history," I acknowledge, letting my fingers trace the rim of my glass suggestively, bringing the attention of his eyes down. "But sometimes... old enemies can become new friends."
Interest flickers across his features as his gaze drops to the blood vial nestled between my breasts.
"I'm afraid your husband's reputation precedes him. Dante Ravelli is known for many things, but... sharing is not among them."
"My husband," I emphasize the word as I lean closer, the vial swinging slightly with my movement. "Doesn't control everything I do."
"Interesting," Dominguez smiles, his eyes never leaving the curve of my neck where Dante's mark remains visible. "I've heard rumors of Volkov betrayal. The great Ravelli empire... vulnerable. And yet here you are, wearing his blood while seeking my company."
I laugh softly, the sound deliberately airy and intimate. "I'm wearing many things tonight. Some visible, some... not."
"Of course." His voice deepens as he steps closer. "Yet here you are, on my yacht, without your formidable husband. One might wonder why…"
The moment has arrived.
I glance around the crowded deck, then back at him through lowered lashes. "Perhaps I wanted to meet the man whose name I've heard whispered for years. The man even my father respected."
Dominguez's eyes darken with interest. "And your husband sent his prized possession to me?"
"I'm no one's possession," I reply, allowing my finger to brush against the vial, drawing his attention. "And sometimes... I handle matters that require a woman's touch."
"Such as?"
I step closer, close enough that he can smell my perfume. "Such as discovering if the rumors about Xavier Dominguez are true." I hold his gaze. "They say you're a man who appreciates true beauty... and opportunity."
Surprise and desire register briefly before he masks it and clears his throat. "You've certainly done your research, Mrs. Ravelli."
"Francesca, please," I correct him, biting my lower lip and batting my lashes. "And yes, I always prepare thoroughly before pursuing something… or maybe, someone I want."
The invitation hangs between us, my words dripping with deliberate ambiguity. His gaze travels over me again, lingering on the blood vial nestled between my breasts.
"I find myself... intrigued," he says, fingers brushing my bare arm. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere more private. My stateroom offers both discretion and... possibilities."
I tilt my head, letting my hair cascade over one shoulder as I pretend to consider. The vial swings gently between my breasts with the movement. "And what exactly might we discuss there, Xavier?"
"Whatever pleases you," he murmurs, his accent thickening. "Business... pleasure... perhaps both."
I smile, letting him guide me toward the yacht's interior with a proprietary hand that slides lower than necessary on my bare back.
As we pass a group of revelers, I catch sight of Dante on the adjacent yacht. Our eyes meet briefly, a flash of communication passing between us.
His expression remains neutral, but I feel the heat radiating from him even at this distance.
I'm in control, I silently communicate. Trust me.
Dominguez leads me below deck, his fingers never leaving my skin as we enter his private domain. Into the dragon's lair, where I'll either extract what we need or burn trying.
The Castellano princess my father raised would have been meek and terrified. The captive Dante first claimed would have been resigned.
But the queen I've become?
I feel only the intoxicating thrill of the hunt, the power of making men want what they can never truly have, and the certainty that whatever happens next, I return to my king with his mark on my throat and his blood against my heart, our ambitions one step closer to fruition.
I touch the vial nestled between my breasts, drawing strength from the blood oath as I follow Dominguez into a darkness lit only by opportunity and the fire in his eyes that I've so carefully kindled.