21. Dante
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DANTE
Renato’s scent still clung to my skin. A shower would erase the evidence, but I lay still beneath the sheet in bed, letting his woodsy traces remind me what I’d just done.
His bite pulsated in a distracting way. I tested it with two fingers, pressing against it until the sharp ache bloomed into something that made my hips shift as I remembered him murmuring in Italian, “I want to hear my real name on your lips when we’re alone.
” I closed my eyes and let myself have it for a moment longer than I should have.
It was dangerous behavior, but I kept stroking the mark for the pleasure of the pain.
My dick twitched with interest, eager for more.
A soft knock pulled me back. Ishi entered without waiting for permission, which she only did when something had already gone wrong.
I sat up. The sheet pooled at my waist. I didn’t bother adjusting it when Ishi had seen me in brutalized states. Modesty between us would have been an insult to the years she’d spent keeping me alive in small, quiet ways. “What happened?”
She perched on the edge of the chair beside the bed, her hands folded too tightly in her lap. “Your next patron left.”
My stomach tightened, all traces of arousal vanishing. “Shaw?”
She nodded once.
“Did he say anything?”
“He asked to cancel the charge before leaving,” she said, still unable to meet my gaze. “He apologized.”
Of course he did. He always apologized for things that weren’t his fault.
“Right.” I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. Renato’s bite mark pulsed under the sheet, a smug reminder I hadn’t earned the luxury of caring about Shaw’s hurt. I certainly didn’t deserve to enjoy his jealousy and knowing his imagination and unwise possessive feelings toward me had hurt him.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault.
” I kept my voice neutral despite the knot pulling taut in my gut.
Shaw was becoming a complication I couldn’t afford.
“Look, I’m going to rest before my next client shows up.
Don’t let it worry you, okay? He’ll be back.
” I knew him well enough to understand he wouldn’t be able to stay away from me.
She offered a formal bow before leaving, glancing back from the doorway with concern. Ishi understood what happened to me when Salvatore’s balance sheets dipped in profits.
Left alone, I tallied the impending damage. Salvatore was returning tomorrow from his business trip to Macau. If he brought Zhao Longwei with him, there was no end to the depraved punishments I would suffer. My scarred back throbbed at the memory of previous beatings.
I focused my thoughts on Shaw. His jealousy was problematic, yet his reaction sparked a dark thrill. I also resented him leaving. After Renato’s passionate performance, Shaw’s genuine desire would have been the perfect chaser.
Rather than fixate on my disappointment and the danger Shaw had put me in by storming out, I got out of bed. My muscles protested the movement. The spot on my inner thigh throbbed, sending a sharp burst of arousal through me as the hypersensitive skin brushed together with every step.
I selected a black suit from my closet. Each layer concealing the bruise became a private rebellion hidden beneath Salvatore’s expensive wrapping paper.
The heavy fabric dragged against my tender skin. I paused while buttoning my shirt, bracing against a fresh wave of desire. The Pavlovian response presented a severe liability. If my body reacted every time the bruise rubbed against cloth, I would never make it through the night.
I anchored my thoughts to Salvatore’s imminent return and Zhao’s cruel demands. The looming threat successfully killed my arousal. I left the top three buttons of my white shirt undone, exposing an enticing stretch of clavicle. Image was currency in the brothel, and I protected my value.
My reflection presented a perfected image of aloof confidence.
Beneath that veneer, rapid risk assessments continuously kept me alive in Salvatore’s world.
With each step toward the door, Renato’s unseen mark pulsed beneath the expensive fabric, a dangerous reminder that part of me now belonged to someone other than the Gennaro family.