Chapter 13
Dante
The security reports made my blood pressure spike.
I sat in my office at three in the morning, bourbon untouched beside me, reviewing the encrypted files Marcos had compiled. Lorenzo's men had narrowed Julietta's location to the financial district. They'd bribed two of my security contractors and were building a case for a full-scale siege.
My fist connected with the mahogany desk hard enough to crack the veneer.
I pulled up her file again. Julietta Altieri, age twenty-three. But my eyes kept drifting to the other file. The one I'd compiled eight weeks ago, before I'd ever pulled that trigger.
Elena Marchetti. The Rose. Target eliminated March 15, 2008.
I'd known before I took her. Known that Lorenzo had murdered her mother. Known that he'd planned to murder her too. I'd told myself that knowledge justified the kidnapping—I was saving her life.
But the truth was uglier. I'd have taken her regardless. The information about Elena just gave me an excuse to act on an obsession that had nothing to do with justice and everything to do with the fact that I couldn't breathe when I thought about her belonging to anyone else.
I closed the file and stared at my reflection in the darkened window. Thirty-four years old. Built an empire from nothing. Commanded respect through fear and strategy.
And still that eight-year-old boy lived somewhere inside me—the one who'd watched his mother die in a basement apartment because she couldn't afford the medication that would have saved her.
The one who'd been shuffled through foster homes like unwanted cargo.
The one who'd learned that powerlessness was the only sin that mattered in this world.
I'd sworn I'd never be powerless again.
Every territory I'd claimed, every rival I'd eliminated, every dollar I'd accumulated—it was all armor against that terrified child who'd understood too young that the world would devour anyone weak enough to let it.
But Julietta had walked through that armor like it was smoke.
She made me feel things I'd spent twenty years teaching myself not to feel.
Made me want things I'd convinced myself were weaknesses.
Made me terrified in ways that had nothing to do with bullets or betrayal and everything to do with the fact that I'd finally found something I couldn't control, couldn't protect, couldn't keep safe through force alone.
Loving her was the most powerless I'd felt since I was eight years old.
And I'd burn this entire city before I let that feeling destroy me—or her.
Two million dollars bought Lorenzo persistence and heat that only intensified until something broke.
I pulled up the surveillance feeds. Julietta in the library at 2:47 a.m., curled in the leather chair with a worn copy of The Prince, highlighter in hand. That particular tilt of her head meant she was two moves ahead of everyone.
Including me.
Hiding her wasn't going to work anymore. Not with Lorenzo's resources. The compound was secure, but it was a cage, and I could see the moment it had stopped being enough for her.
There was only one solution.
A shield that would work because everyone understood it. A declaration that would make her untouchable—not hidden behind locked doors but walking through the city on my arm, protected by legitimacy and fear. A fake marriage.
I grabbed my keys.
The library was exactly as quiet as I'd expected. Julietta didn't look up, absorbed in whatever chapter she was dissecting. She had one of my Italian cashmere sweaters wrapped around her shoulders—she'd started stealing them two weeks ago, and I'd stopped caring.
Actually, that was a lie. I cared about everything she did. The way she hummed while showering. The way she took her coffee too black and complained about it. The way she'd started touching me like she'd forgotten to be afraid.
"It's three in the morning," I said.
"So it is." She turned a page. "Insomnia?"
"Security briefing." I moved closer, and she finally glanced up. "We need to talk about your situation."
"The contract on my head."
"Among other things." I forced her to maintain eye contact. "Lorenzo's moving faster than projected. They've narrowed your location. It's becoming unsustainable to keep you invisible here."
"So you're moving me again." Her voice was flat, protecting something underneath. "Another locked room?"
"Marry me."
She blinked. Actually blinked.
"I'm sorry?"
"Tomorrow. Public ceremony. This stops being a vulnerability the moment you stop being a loose piece."
She laughed, bitter and edged. "You're joking."
"I'm not."
"Because that's the fantasy now? Marriage without consent, another way to—"
"It's not real."
Silence bloomed between us.
"What?"
"A fake marriage. Public. Legal. You become Mrs. Dante Taviani, and suddenly you're not a daughter Lorenzo can move across a chessboard. You're a wife. Protected by my name and my network."
"And what do you get?" Her voice was dangerous. "Beyond permanently branding me as property?"
I grabbed her wrist and pulled her from the chair. She was breathing fast, eyes locked on mine, and I could feel her pulse rapid and alive.
"You think this is strategy?" My voice came out guttural. "I'd burn the world to keep you safe, Julietta. I'd burn it to the ground. This isn't about leverage. It's about you. It's always been about you."
She didn't pull away.
That was the thing that would destroy me eventually—she didn't pull away. Her breathing steadied, and I watched her walls start to fracture.
"You don't get to make decisions for me," she said quietly.
"I know." I cupped her face instead, rough and careful. "This is me asking. Will you marry me, Julietta? Because you choose to. Because I'm terrified every second that Lorenzo's going to find you, and I can't exist in a world where that happens."
She grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer, putting her forehead against mine.
"You're insane," she breathed.
"Completely."
"And you think getting married will actually stop him."
"It'll make you harder to move. It'll make you part of my structure publicly, and in this world, public matters." I pulled back to see her face. "But more than that—it'll mean something. It'll mean you chose to stay."
Finally, she said, "I need to think about it."
"You have until tomorrow."
I kissed the top of her head and returned to my office to make arrangements.
She found me at dawn in the gym.
I was hitting the bag hard, working off the adrenaline and desperate need to control something. The city skyline was starting to glow pink and gold.
"If I say yes," she said from the doorway, breathing hard, "it's not because I'm afraid or you terrified me into it.
It's because I'm tired of hiding. Because I'm tired of other people controlling my life.
Because if I'm going to be trapped by something, it should be something I chose.
" She stepped closer. "And because I'm terrified that if I don't, you're actually going to burn the world, and I don't want that blood on your hands. "
"Julietta—"
"Let me finish. I'm saying yes. But you need to understand this isn't me becoming your property. It's me choosing to build something with you. If you go back to trying to control every part of my life, I will burn you down. Understand?"
I grabbed her face and kissed her, hard and messy. She kissed me back, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer.
When I pulled back, I was breathing hard. "Tomorrow at six. The judge I own is available. Fifty people maximum. Announcement goes public the next morning."
"And then?"
And then we're bound together. And anyone who comes for you comes for me
She took my hand, squeezing hard enough that I felt her nails bite my skin.
"I'm going to hold you to that," she said.
The air was thick with anticipation as I pulled Julietta toward the bedroom, my heart pounding in my chest. The adrenaline from the gym, where I’d spent the early hours of the morning sparring with my men, now fueled a different kind of hunger.
Her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the golden light of dawn that filtered through the sheer curtains.
Her soft features were illuminated, but it was her eyes—those fiery, defiant eyes—that held my gaze.
They burned with a challenge I couldn’t resist, a silent dare that ignited something primal within me.
I kicked the bedroom door shut behind us, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. The room was a sanctuary of luxury, with its deep crimson walls and expensive furnishings, but at that moment, it felt like a battleground.
Julietta stepped closer, her modest dress clinging to her curves in a way that belied the wildness I knew lay beneath.
I could feel her heartbeat quicken as I gripped her waist, pulling her against me.
My icy blue eyes locked onto hers, and I growled, my voice low and commanding, “You’re sure about this? ”
She smirked, her nails digging into my arms, leaving faint marks on my skin. Her breath was hot against my lips as she whispered, “Stop asking questions and show me.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
With a swift motion, I spun her around, pressing her against the wall.
My hands slid up her thighs, the fabric of her dress bunching around her waist. I could feel the lace of her panties, a flimsy barrier between us.
She gasped as I hooked my fingers into them, tearing them aside with a sharp tug.
Her wetness greeted me, her pussy throbbing and ready.
“So fucking ready for me,” I muttered, my dick already straining against the confines of my sweatpants.
I pushed her dress up further, bending her over the edge of the bed. Her ass perched perfectly in the air, a sight that made my mouth water.
I slapped her ass cheek hard, the sound reverberating in the room. “This is what you want, isn’t it? To be taken, to be mine?”
She moaned, her head falling back, her hair spilling across the sheets. “Yes,” she hissed, her voice thick with desire. “But don’t you dare think I’m yours to own.”
Her words only fueled my determination. I growled in response, letting my sweatpants fall to the floor.
My cock sprang free, thick and hard, pre-cum glistening at the tip.
I gripped her hips, lining myself up, then thrust into her in one brutal stroke, burying myself deep inside her tight, wet heat.
She cried out, her nails clawing at the sheets, her body trembling as I began to move. I pounded into her relentlessly, my balls slapping against her clit with each thrust. “Say it,” I demanded, my voice rough, my thrusts driving the air from her lungs. “Say you’re mine.”
She shook her head, her eyes wild, her body arching back against me. “Never,” she panted, her voice strained.
“Then I’ll make you,” I snarled, gripping her hair, pulling her head back as I fucked her harder, faster. My control was slipping, my need for her overwhelming.
Her walls clenched around me, her pussy milking my cock, and I knew she was close.
“Come for me,” I commanded, my voice a growl. “Come on my dick, Julietta.”
She screamed, her body shaking as her orgasm ripped through her, her juices flooding around me. I held her there, her trembling body pinned beneath mine, my cock still buried deep inside her. But I wasn’t done. Not even close.
I pulled out and stepped back from the bed. Her breasts heaved as she gasped for breath, flushed and trembling.
"On your knees," I ordered, pushing her head down toward my cock.
She hesitated, her eyes flashing with defiance, but then she opened her mouth, her wet lips wrapping around me.
Her tongue swirled as she took me deep, her throat swallowing me down.
I groaned, my hands tangling in her auburn hair, guiding her as she sucked me off.
Her mouth was hot and tight, her lips moving up and down with a rhythm that had me on the edge.
“That’s it,” I muttered, my voice thick with need. “Take it all.”
But as her lips moved, her eyes met mine, and in them, I saw the same fire, the same challenge. She wasn’t mine to own, not yet. And as I felt my orgasm building, my balls tightening, I knew this wasn’t the end. It was just the beginning.
I pulled her head back, my cock slipping from her mouth, her lips glistening with my pre-cum.
“Not done with you yet,” I growled, pushing her back onto the bed, her legs spread wide. I shed my sweatpants completely, kicking them aside. I hovered above her, my hands gripping her wrists, holding her down. “But this,” I said, thrusting back into her, “this is just the start.”
Her eyes widened as I began to move again, her body arching beneath me, her breath coming in sharp gasps.
The room was filled with the sounds of our bodies colliding, the scent of sex and sweat heavy in the air. But as I looked down at her, her fiery eyes meeting mine, I knew this wasn’t just about control or possession. It was about choice, about building something together.
And as I felt her walls clench around me again, her body trembling on the edge of another orgasm, I realized the future was unwritten, and as I thrust deeper, harder, I knew it would be anything but predictable.
Julietta’s defiance, her strength, her fire—they called to something in me, something beyond the cold, calculated man I presented to the world.
At that moment, I knew I wasn’t just taking her.
I was claiming her, not as property, but as a partner in this dance of power and passion.
And as her body shattered around me, her cries filling the room, I whispered against her ear, “This is just the beginning, Julietta. You’re not mine to own, but I’ll make you mine in every way that matters. ”
I realized somewhere between the kiss and the moment we collapsed into my bed that I had never been more terrified or more certain of anything in my life.
This woman was going to either save me or destroy me.
Possibly both.