13. Dante #3
His words should have triggered every alarm in my mind. I was Salvatore’s property, his trained dog on a short leash. My body wasn’t mine to give. Being claimed by another was dangerous, potentially fatal for all involved.
Yet something buried deep within me responded to Renato’s claim with a visceral hunger I didn’t recognize.
Not the calculated compliance I showed Salvatore, not the performative submission I gave clients who craved dominance, but something more primitive and honest. A part of me awakened to the possibility that someone could want both sides of me.
Shaw only wanted Dante, the college student.
He pretended Dragon didn’t exist, closing his eyes to the reality of what I did and who I was.
But Renato had sought Dragon first, then greedily demanded Dante, too.
He didn’t want me compartmentalized. He wanted all of me, the light and the darkness, the real me and the whore.
Only muscle memory made me reach for his neglected cock. Two quick strokes were all it took before he arched up while gasping my name as he painted his stomach with cum.
In the aftermath, he embodied sin incarnate, his eyes glazed, lips swollen, body marked by my hands and mouth. But it wasn’t only the physical evidence of our coupling that captivated me. His gaze penetrated me, as though he’d discovered treasure beneath my carefully constructed personas.
“Wait until next time, Dante. I’ll have you screaming my name then.”
I shuddered at his promise, already craving whatever he had planned.
His mouth found mine with startling gentleness that transformed into something hungrier. He kissed me as if he were mapping territories, learning boundaries only to cross them. His tongue traced the seam of my lips before pushing inside, not asking permission but assuming rightful ownership.
The kiss deepened, becoming primal and all-consuming.
His teeth caught my bottom lip, not enough to hurt but enough to promise he could if I craved that pain.
His hand slid up to cradle my jaw, thumb pressing against my pulse point as if measuring my response, while his other traced possessive patterns across my skin.
When I tried to dominate the kiss, to fall back on Dragon’s practiced techniques, he made a low sound of disapproval in his throat.
His fingers slid into my hair, tugging hard enough to communicate his refusal.
He didn’t want my practiced performance.
He wanted the unfiltered response he’d drawn from me moments before.
When he pulled back, his eyes held mine with an intensity that made something in my chest constrict painfully. No one had ever looked at me as if I were a treasure they’d kill to possess, a truth they’d die to protect.
I pulled out slowly, making him groan before he tugged me down for another kiss. With sex and his cologne filling my lungs, I felt drugged as I lost myself in him. Between kisses, he whispered my forbidden name against my lips like a prayer.
“Dante,” he breathed, the syllables caressing my skin.
The sound of my real name in his accent felt like coming home to a place I’d never been, but had always been meant to find.
Reality crashed back when I heard Salvatore’s hand working his cock with increasing urgency.
I knew the sound intimately, having been forced to listen to it countless times in that room.
The rhythm always accelerated right before he finished, followed by his breath hitching, then the guttural grunts that signaled his release.
That had been the soundtrack to my nightmares for years.
Revulsion nauseated me from the memories of him touching himself while others inflicted pain or pleasure on me as he saw fit, teaching me what sounds to make, how to move, when to climax, while making sure I understood the consequences of failure.
The noise of him wiping himself clean with his handkerchief scraped against my eardrums. Rustling expensive fabric accompanied him tucking himself away.
Metal clinked as he fastened his belt buckle.
Satisfaction escaped him in a contented sigh.
Every sound contributed to a symphony of degradation I’d endured for years.
Only Renato’s voice pulled me back from the edge of panic. His gaze held mine, blocking my view of Salvatore, creating a momentary bubble where only we existed. “I bet you’re never going to forget me now.”
Despite everything, the corner of my mouth lifted. “You’ve definitely made an impression.”
“I’d put up with damn near anything to be with you again,” Renato murmured in Italian. “Even that fucking creep. It’s worth it to make you mine.”
Thankfully, my adoptive father didn’t understand Italian, despite heading an Italian crime family. My fluency was one of the few secret advantages I had over him after he married into the organization.
Salvatore cleared his throat as he stood, adjusting himself. “I’ve seen enough to make my decision.”
Renato propped himself up on his elbows, meeting Salvatore’s gaze without fear. “When do I start?”
“Clean yourself up, then we’ll discuss the terms of your employment.”
Recognizing the dismissal, I got off the bed and tossed the used condom on the sheets for the staff to take care of after we left.
I picked my robe off the floor and slid it on, feeling better for having it tied around me to shield my body from Salvatore.
Before I could walk out of the room, his hand on my waist stopped me in my tracks.
I fought hard to remain expressionless, holding back a flinch when Salvatore’s large hand stroked my cheek almost lovingly.
His thumb traced my bottom lip, still swollen from Renato’s kiss.
“You have pleased me very much tonight, boy. I’ve trained you well.
” His voice carried that familiar tone of paternal pride mixed with sexual predator that made my skin crawl.
The reminder of the training I had endured in that very room nauseated me, but I remained motionless.
His fingers slid down to my throat, creating a stark contrast. Renato’s touch had ignited fire under my skin, but Salvatore’s left only corruption in its wake.
I could smell his release on his hand, mingling with his expensive cologne.
“I’m particularly impressed with how you handled our new acquisition.” His fingers tightened, not enough to restrict breathing but enough to remind me he could. “You two have incredible chemistry.”
The way he lingered on the last word made acid churn in the pit of my stomach. I recognized the calculation in his eyes. Salvatore never gave compliments without purpose. If he approved of my interaction with Renato, it meant he saw profit or leverage in it. Possibly both.
“I’ll allow you to see Raphael tomorrow.”
I despised needing to show appreciation to my jailer for allowing me to see my brother. “Thank you, Father.” I kept my voice modulated, neither too eager nor too flat.
His hand moved from my throat to my shoulder, then slid down my arm in a proprietary caress. “Go clean up and get some rest.” He stepped aside to let me pass, but not quite far enough, forcing me to brush against him. “We’ll talk later.”
The promise in those words carried the weight of years of “talks” that left me bleeding, broken, or worse. Salvatore’s version of conversation had always involved pain disguised as lessons.
“Yes, Father.” I had a momentary concern for leaving Renato alone with a man as dangerous as Salvatore, but there was nothing I could do. Renato had made his choice to deal with the devil, so he would have to face those consequences himself.
Not sparing a look back, I left Salvatore’s office. It was a relief to retreat to the sanctuary of my private room, where Ishi waited to take care of me.
Shaw was the only other person who had ever made me forget myself in the brothel. I understood why he had slipped past my walls because of our personal relationship outside of Gennaro Corporation, but what was it about Renato that drew me to him?
Those were thoughts to ponder when I was alone and had time to puzzle through them.
For now, I had to draw my Dragon persona around me even tighter to protect myself.
As long as I worked at the brothel, being Dante around Shaw and Renato left me too vulnerable to Salvatore’s dangerous game of manipulation.
Worst of all, it put them both at risk, which was unacceptable.
The smart move would be to cut them both off. To return to my careful isolation, my meticulous planning, my single-minded focus on freeing myself and Raphael.
But I couldn’t. Not when I wanted Shaw and Renato for such different reasons.
I traced my lips, still tender from Renato’s kiss, and made a decision that would either save us all or get us killed.
If Salvatore wanted to teach me about weakness, I’d teach him about wrath. If I had to burn the entire Gennaro family to the ground to do it, I would.