Isabella
I’m not about to be killed or sent back to my father, so that’s a plus. And while Alessandro is back to being more attentive, he still holds part of himself back. While I understand why, it hurts that he can’t see the ally he has in me.
Right now, he’s summoned my father and brother to meet with him.
I can’t believe my father and brother walked into the Dante estate.
It solidified my belief that my father wasn’t behind the poisoning, and the only way to prove he didn’t is to show up.
Or he’s hoping that by showing up, Alessandro will believe he wasn’t behind it.
I linger outside Alessandro’s office wanting to hear the conversation. I know I shouldn’t, but I have to know who successfully poisoned Dante men in my home.
"You think I'm a fool, Marco?" Alessandro's voice carries out to the hall.
"You sent poisoned whiskey into my home and want me to believe it was a mistake? My wife could have drunk it. She’d be dead. Do you care?”
I press myself against the wall.
"It was meant as a gift." My father's voice sounds different, strained. Almost as if he’s nervous, which is odd, since I’ve never seen my father nervous. It’s another sign that he probably didn’t poison the whiskey. "If someone tampered with it—"
“Who?”
I close my eyes, knowing Alessandro’s mind would go to me.
“Could be any number of people. Perhaps in your own organization. It’s well known that you’ve had problems with traitors in your midst,” my brother says in a way that I can picture him with a condescending sneer on his face.
“You’re one of them,” Alessandro snaps back.
There is a long pause. “You’re seeing shadows where none exist, Alessandro, and I for one have had enough of your accusations. I didn’t attack your warehouses or try to poison you. Why would I? We have an alliance,” my father says.
“Your word doesn’t mean a lot after what you pulled with the Bratva.”
“I handed my daughter over to you. Surely, that shows my commitment. Is she not making you happy, Don Dante? I can have a talk—”
“You’ll stay away from my wife.” Alessandro’s voice lowers to the level of warning. “You need to have a talk with Enrico. If it’s not you, it’s him. You and he might think that losing several of my high-ranking men has left me powerless, but I’d warn you against underestimating me.”
“You talk a big talk, Dante, but I could kill you—”
I hear movement, and all I can think is someone is pulling a gun. Closing my eyes, I pray it isn’t pointed at Alessandro.
“You’ve made your point, Alessandro. Put the gun down,” my father says.
I let out a sigh of relief and wish I’d been able to see my brother’s face when Alessandro proved he was faster and smarter.
“What you haven’t proven is that I or my son were involved in any of your current problems. There’s no need for you to kill my people at the port.”
I frown. Did Alessandro retaliate?
“Oh, I’m not going to kill them, Marco. I’m going to kill Enrico here, deliver his head to them, and then they’ll know they work for me.”
“You’re just a pussy. Another Don would have killed them already—”
“Enrico!” my father barks out.
“All I need is a match. They and your warehouse will go up in flames. All I’ve got to do is call Adriano.
But see, that’s why I’ll always beat you, Enrico.
You don’t think things through. You’re too impulsive.
When you die, which I’m willing to wager will be soon, it will be because of your own stupidity, don’t you agree, Marco? ”
My father makes a noise that isn’t agreement, but it isn’t denial, either.
“You talk a big game, Dante, but everyone knows your organization is about to fall.” My brother is surely writing checks he won’t be able to cash.
Silence follows. It stretches out until I can’t take it anymore. I risk a peek through the crack in the door.
Alessandro stands in front of his desk, tall and imposing in his tailored black suit. My father and Enrico sit across from him, but they might as well be kneeling. The power dynamic is unmistakable. In this room, there is only one king, and it isn't my father.
“Ignore Enrico. It still stands that you don’t have proof that we’ve made any move against you.”
"I don't need proof or this alliance. I need only suspicion to justify wiping your entire family off the map."
“You could try—”
“Shut the fuck up, Enrico,” my father snaps.
“We let him violate Isabella, and for what—"
"Don't." Alessandro's expression hardens. "Don't you dare say her name. You’re not worthy to look at her."
A warm rush fills my chest. In all my life, no one has ever defended me against my family.
"The only reason you're still breathing," Alessandro continues, "is because I'm giving you one chance to convince me you weren't behind this."
My brother tries to maintain his composure, but his leg bounces nervously.
It proves just how effective Alessandro is at intimidation and posturing.
I know that his organization has been hurt by the loss of the men.
That it was already strained after prolonged battles with the Bratva.
But his bravado is so convincing that my brother and father are worried they’d overstepped.
"Are you threatening us?"
Alessandro laughed. "No, Enrico. I'm promising you. If I discover either of you had anything to do with those deaths, I will personally ensure the Vitale name is wiped from the earth."
“You and what army—”
“Jesus Christ, Enrico.” My father looks like he wants to shoot my brother himself.
“I don’t need an army.” Alessandro points a finger at his head. “I’m smarter than you.”
“Not smarter than the person who tried to poison you—”
Alessandro moves quicker than I’d ever seen, pressing his gun against my brother’s temple. “Is that an admission?”
My breath catches at the power of my husband.
This is Don Dante. Is it weird that I am attracted to this lethal side of him?
There is something intoxicating about the raw power, the absolute control.
The way my father and brother, men who've made me feel small my entire life, shrink under his control.
“Fucking hell, Alessandro. Kill him if you’re going to or let us go. I might have some ideas on who tried to poison you.”
"You have one week," Alessandro says, lowering his gun. "Bring me proof someone else targeted my men or prepare for war."
I slip away before I am discovered. But I can’t shake the feelings of admiration and desire at seeing my husband work. The man in that room is dangerous, lethal, and oh, my God, so sexy. I want to feel those powerful hands on my body, be overcome by the intensity of him.
It’s after nine when my father and brother leave.
I go upstairs wanting to take advantage of all this sexual energy flowing through me.
I’m thankful for all the lingerie that was packed in my honeymoon suitcase and stored in my dresser now.
I pull out a bold red teddy. I put it on, looking at myself in the mirror.
I feel scandalous and silly. God, what if he thinks I’m being ridiculous?
The truth is Alessandro still doesn’t trust me, but he doesn’t act wary of me.
He hasn't once directed his rage at me since that night.
The night I told him I was falling for him.
The night he didn't say it back but showed me with his body what he couldn't with words. Everything between us feels fragile but real. So I hope he’ll find me alluring and a distraction from the problems in his business.
I put on a robe and make my way down to the kitchen where I grab a bottle of wine and a glass, along with a cupcake, extras from a batch the cook made for Mirabella’s preschool.
I knock on the door.
“Come in.”
I feel giddy and nervous as I enter.
“The staff can do that,” he says when I set the wine and cupcake in front of him.
“I know, but I want to.”
He takes the wine and pours it into the glass. “This is nice. You didn’t bring a glass for you?”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t sure you’d take a break. I just wanted you to know I was thinking of you.”
He tilts his head, almost as if he’s confused by my words. Confused that someone cares for him.
"Thank you.”
I nod, feeling nervous about showing him what’s under my robe. "You should sleep," I suggest, perching on the edge of his desk. Deep down, I hope I can lure him to bed, soothe him with my touch.
“I can sleep when I’m dead.”
“Don’t talk like that.” I reach out, hesitating only briefly before touching his cheek. "You don't have to be alone in this, you know."
"Don't I?"
"No," I say, hating the reminder that he doesn’t trust me. "You don't."
Alessandro sets down his wine and pulls me onto his lap. I go willingly, curling against him, once again pretending this is real. His arms wrap around me.
"They'll come for us again," he warns.
"I know."
"And when they do..."
“You’ll be ready.” I have no doubt of that. I shift in his lap, and he lets out a soft moan.
“Careful.”
I loop my arms around his neck. “Why?”
His eyes drift from my face to take in the robe that has opened to expose my legs. The weariness dissolves into hunger.
“Because I’m working.” The words lack conviction, especially when his hand slides up my thigh.
"You're always working. But even the great Alessandro Dante needs rest."
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Is that what you're offering? Rest?"
The innuendo of his tone sends a shiver down my spine. I untie the robe, letting it fall from my shoulders.
His sharp intake of breath is exactly the reaction I wanted. "That depends. What would you prefer?"
He brushes the back of his fingers along my collar bone. “I’m hungry.” He reaches for the cupcake, and I can’t hide my disappointment.
“Oh… yes, of course. Should I make you a sandwich?”
He shakes his head, tugging the straps of the teddy down until my breasts are exposed. “No. I want dessert.” He rubs the frosting from the cupcake on my nipples. The sensation sends electric pulses through my body and I moan, the sound of it filling the room.
He laughs. “I hope you locked the door.”
Immediately, the haze of desire disappears. “No. I didn’t. I thought we’d go upstairs—”
“You thought wrong, Wife. I’m going to fuck you here on my desk.”
“But someone could interrupt us.”
“Yes.” He licks the frosting off my nipple, and my thoughts scatter. “Someone could.”
The idea of being caught sends new sensations through me. Not all of them are embarrassment.
He drags the frosting over my lips and then his mouth claims mine in a kiss that's all-consuming hunger and need. It’s like a tether breaks, and he rises, setting me on the desk, his arm sweeping across the desk sending papers and pens to the floor.
He yanks the teddy off, and I’m sitting naked on the Don’s desk. His eyes are dark as they inventory my body.
He picks up the cupcake, drawing a line between my breasts and lower. “Hmm… you look delicious.”
He drops to his knees, his fingers gripping my hips as his mouth dives in and feasts. I’m assaulted with sensations, writhing as pleasure builds to a nearly impossible pressure.
“Alessandro!” My fingers fist in his hair, holding on like I might fly away.
“Come, Isabella. I want to taste your sweet nectar.” He inserts three fingers as his lips wrap around my clit and sucks.
My entire body detonates. I feel like I’ve been shot out of a canon.
“Fuck yeah… I love your cum.” He continues to lick and lap at me until I’m coming again, or maybe it’s just prolonging the first orgasm. I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. All I know is pleasure is flooding my bloodstream.
He stands, undoing his slacks, shoving them down along with his boxer briefs. His dick juts out and when I see it, I want to return the favor. I want to taste him there, to learn how to pleasure him with my mouth.
I grab the cupcake and smear the frosting along his length.
“Oh, fuck… Isabella.” His voice is rough.
I look up, wondering if I’ve made a mistake.
“You’ll have to suck that off before I can fuck you.”
I smile in a way I hope is coy. “I’m hungry too.” I push him back into his chair and drop to my knees. I have no idea what I’m doing.
“Lick the frosting, baby,” he says like he knows I’m unsure. “Then suck, like a lollipop.” He moves my hair out of the way. “Fuck, I can’t wait to see your mouth on my cock.”
I’ve just come really hard, but his words make me want him again. I run my tongue along the length of him, tasting the frosting along with something salty. His dick is hard, but the skin over it is velvety soft. I wrap my lips around the tip and suck like he instructed.
“Oh… yes… fuck, so good.”
His words embolden me. This is what I wanted. For him to surrender to me.
I have no illusion that this will make everything perfect. But small steps, right? He’s handing over his pleasure to me now, and maybe before long, his trust… his love.