22. Renato #2
“Behave yourself,” he muttered, “or I’m leaving.”
“To go take care of yourself?” I grinned wickedly. “Why do that when I’m right here and willing?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You’re relentless. Are you like this with everybody?”
“Are you asking me if you’re special?” I stroked myself again, making sure he watched. “If so, the answer is yes. I don’t mark territory I’m not planning to claim permanently.”
“You’re delusional if you think anything will happen between us.”
“Right, just like I’m imagining your erection right now.” I moved with the grace that had made me famous as a dancer to straddle his lap, trapping him against the couch. “Nobody will ever know. It’ll be our little secret.”
His hands landed on my hips, but I couldn’t tell if he meant to push me away or pull me closer. “He’ll know.”
“So what?” I rocked against him, feeling his hardness press against mine.
His fingers dug into me, stopping my movement. “There are dire consequences you can’t comprehend.” His blue eyes looked up at me with a silent plea. “If you keep going, he’ll never—”
I stroked the back of his neck in comfort. “Never what?”
“He’ll never let us partner together professionally again.”
“I see. So, the real reason you want me to stop isn’t because you don’t want me.” I brushed my thumb across his lower lip. “You’re asking me to behave because you ache for me so much you’re afraid of losing access to me completely.”
Fear flickered in his gaze. “You don’t know what he’s capable of like I do. Trust me when I say you don’t want to do anything to draw his attention.” He gripped my forearms. “If you value your life, you’ll stop. Do you not understand who he is?”
“He’s one of the most powerful Mafia bosses in the city. That has nothing to do with me, though.”
“It has everything to do with you the moment you touched what he considers his property.” Dante’s eyes darted to the camera in the corner. “And that’s exactly what I am to him. Property.”
I slid off his lap reluctantly, adjusting myself in my robe. “Fine. We’ll keep playing the game his way for now.” I leaned close, my lips brushing his ear. “But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. Men like Salvatore only maintain power because others fear them. I’m not afraid.”
“Then you’re a fucking fool with a death wish. I refuse to let you drag me down to Hell when Salvatore condemns your transgression.”
Before I could respond, Ishi entered the lounge with a slight bow. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Sanguinetti will arrive soon, Dragon.”
The name made both of my eyebrows arch. Surely, I had misheard her. “I’m sorry, did you say Mr. Sanguinetti? As in the Gennaro Mafia’s number one rival?” I kept my voice casual, but alarm bells rang in my head.
Dante’s face went blank. “Unfortunately.”
It was unwelcome news. I knew firsthand how violent and unforgiving the Sanguinetti family’s reputation was. “I assume it’s Master’s way of using you to keep his nemesis in line?”
“Something like that.” His tone was neutral, but I caught his flicker of disgust.
“I’m impressed that old man Umberto can get it up at his age.” I played it off as a joke, but I was fishing for information.
Dante hesitated, almost as if he were about to correct me, then thought better of it.
My stomach twisted with dread. “Please tell me it’s not Santino Sanguinetti.” Umberto’s son was one of the few men I truly feared in the world.
“It’s none of your business or concern.” His nonanswer confirmed my worst fears.
The name alone sent a current of dark memories through me.
I’d encountered Santino once in Rome, at an exclusive underground club.
Back then, I was Giovanni Accardi, heir to the Accardi crime syndicate that controlled Rome’s eastern districts.
My dancing was merely a cover, a way to gather information from drunk businessmen and rival family soldiers who couldn’t resist beautiful things.
I thought I was clever. The Accardi prince seducing Umberto Sanguinetti’s son for leverage was too tempting a challenge.
By twenty-two, I’d broken enough bones and buried enough bodies that the Accardi name was whispered with fear.
I believed I was untouchable. Santino had taken great pleasure in showing me how wrong I was.
Dante talked over my next objection, turning his attention to his attendant. “Which room?”
“The Grecian suite.” She left with a respectful bow of her head.
When Dante stood to leave, I grabbed his wrist, my fingers tightening around it. “It is my concern. Santino is dangerous, even by Mafia standards. Hurting people isn’t enough for him. He breaks them down until there’s nothing left.”
Even now, years later, certain sounds or scents could catapult me back to that private room in his villa, where I learned the real meaning of power.
“The Accardi prince himself,” he’d whispered against my skin on the third night, when I was bound and bleeding. “Did you think I didn’t know exactly who you were the moment I stepped into your club? I’ll teach you to try and use me.”
My father wouldn’t send men to retrieve me after what Santino had done.
The shame of an Accardi heir being broken was too great.
So I disappeared, abandoning my birthright and the blood money that came with it.
The price on my head from both families meant I could never return to Italy.
Giovanni Accardi was dead; only Renato Mancini remained in the shadows.
“I’m more than capable of handling Santino, thanks.” The flatness in Dante’s voice chilled me. “Let me go.”
My grip tightened when he tried to pull away. “I’m not afraid to take what I want, Dante, and I fucking want you.” And I want to protect you from monsters like Santino, I added mentally, knowing they were words too dangerous to speak aloud.
It was even more important to me when in my place stood my younger brother, Luciano. I refused to lose Dante next.
“It’s Dragon. I won’t tell you again,” he snapped, yanking his wrist free. “Remember your place.”
Rather than showing my concern, which would only push him further away, I gave him my most seductive smile. “Have fun fantasizing about being with me while you’re enduring your next client.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re so full of yourself.”
I parted my thighs, running my hand up the inside of one leg, drawing his attention to my obvious arousal. “I’d rather be full of you.”
“Then I’d recommend you find more clients who will pay for you to have the privilege.” He straightened his suit jacket, his armor going back into place piece by piece.
“I guess that’s what I’ll think about to get myself off while you’re busy.” I ran my tongue across my lower lip, giving him something pleasant to remember while he faced the devil. “How good you taste, how perfectly you fit around me, the little sounds you make when you’re close to coming.”
“Do whatever you want,” he said as he walked away, his shoulders squared, chin up, like a soldier marching to battle.
“I always do.” That was why I would have him, no matter what. But for now, I had no choice but to watch him attend to his dangerous client, whose unspeakable cruelties I had experienced myself.
If Dante had been Santino’s plaything for any length of time, the damage would be far deeper than any visible marks. Santino took pleasure in pain, but his true talent lay in discovering the unique breaking point of every person he targeted.
Even more disturbing was the realization that Salvatore was deliberately placing Dante in Santino’s path as bait.
I understood with sickening clarity what Dante endured during those sessions. Santino would use him not only as a sexual outlet but as a canvas for his legendary hatred of the Gennaro family.
The psychological devastation from such treatment would last far longer than the physical violation. Dante’s body might belong to Salvatore, but Santino would ensure his nightmares belonged to the Sanguinetti heir.
No one ever broke free from Santino’s orbit. My flight from Rome had only delayed what would come. If he discovered me close to someone he considered his property, the consequences would be deadly. He would ensure I watched every moment as he systematically destroyed the man I cared about.
What began as a seduction had evolved into a death sentence for us both. The target I’d inadvertently painted on Dante’s back was a consequence I hadn’t calculated.
Despite knowing the stakes, I couldn’t walk away when Dante deserved freedom. If claiming him meant ending Santino Sanguinetti’s reign and bringing down the Gennaro Mafia, then I’d do it without hesitation.