Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Dante
Everything was a haze. I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't.
The desire hit me like a freight train. My vision blurred, doubled, then tripled. The room spun. My body burned—every nerve ending on fire, screaming for release.
I thought I was dreaming.
Had to be a dream.
Because a woman was there, beneath me, her skin flushed and hot against mine. Her eyes were wide, frightened, but her body responded when I touched her. I couldn't stop myself. Couldn't think. The wine I took just now obliterated everything except pure, raw instinct.
"Dante..." Her voice was small, scared.
I barely heard her. My hands moved on their own, pulling at fabric, finding bare skin. She gasped. I felt her trembling beneath my palms.
This isn't real, I thought distantly. Just a dream.
But her body was solid. Warm. Real.
I tried to pull back. Tried to think. But the fire in my veins consumed everything. Logic. Control. Restraint. All of it burned away until there was nothing left but need.
She whimpered when I pushed her back against the mattress. The sound cut through the fog for half a second—long enough for guilt to flash through me—but then the lust surged again and I was gone.
Her hands pressed against my chest. Not pushing me away. Just... there. Trembling.
"I'm sorry," I heard myself rasp. Or maybe I didn't say it at all. Maybe I just thought it.
Everything after that was sensation. Heat. Pressure. Her sharp intake of breath. The way her nails dug into my shoulders. Pain and pleasure twisted together until I couldn't tell them apart.
I knew somewhere in the back of my dazed mind that this was wrong. That I should stop.
But I couldn't stop.
My desire wouldn't let me.
I settled between her thighs, the weight of my body pinning her gently to the sheets.
My hands slid under her hips, lifting her just enough that the head of my cock pressed against her entrance.
She was already slick, heat blooming against me.
Her legs shifted restlessly, knees falling open in a dazed invitation.
I pushed forward slowly, feeling the tight resistance give way inch by inch.
Her body arched beneath mine. I felt resistance—brief, sharp—then nothing but heat.
She cried out. I swallowed the sound with my mouth, tasting salt. Tears.
Fuck. Fuck.
Wake up, I told myself. This is a dream. Wake up.
But I didn't wake up.
My body moved on autopilot, chasing relief from the burning in my veins.
Every touch, every movement brought a brief moment of clarity before something in my blood dragged me back under.
I rocked into her in deep, measured thrusts, the wet sound of our joining filling the spinning room.
Her inner walls clenched around me with each stroke, pulling me deeper.
Her hands slid from my chest to my back, fingers digging in as her hips began to rise and meet mine in slow, instinctive rolls.
She was half-lost, eyes unfocused, yet her body answered every motion with soft, needy shifts—tilting her pelvis, tightening around me when I buried myself to the hilt, exhaling shaky breaths against my neck.
I caught glimpses between the waves of fog. Her face. Tears streaming down her cheeks. Her lips parted, breathing hard. The way her body responded even as she cried.
"Dante... please..."
Please what? Please stop? Please don't stop?
I didn't know. Couldn't think.
The haze thickened. I pulled out only long enough to turn her onto her stomach, guiding her onto her knees with unsteady hands.
She followed without resistance, forehead resting against the pillow, back arched in a soft, yielding curve.
I knelt behind her, gripping her hips, and sank into her again in one long, continuous thrust. The new angle stole what little clarity I had left.
Heat engulfed me completely. I set a steady rhythm, hips snapping forward, each stroke driving deep.
Her body rocked with the motion; she pushed back against me in small, dazed increments, matching the pace as though her body knew what it wanted even while her mind floated somewhere far away.
Soft, broken sounds spilled from her lips with every impact—half sighs, half whimpers—yet she kept moving with me, thighs trembling, inner muscles fluttering and squeezing around my cock.
My hands slid up her sides, feeling the rapid flutter of her heartbeat under her ribs.
The room tilted harder. Pleasure coiled tight and relentless at the base of my spine.
I leaned over her, chest pressed to her back, and kept thrusting, the wet slap of skin against skin the only clear sound left.
She reached back once, fingers brushing my thigh, then simply held on as another wave of sensation rolled through her, her body tightening and releasing in rhythmic pulses that dragged me closer to the edge.
When it was over, I collapsed beside her, chest heaving. The room spun violently. I reached for her—why, I didn't know—but my hand fell short.
Then darkness swallowed me whole.
When I woke, light streamed through the windows.
My head pounded like someone had taken a sledgehammer to my skull. I groaned, pressing my palm against my temple, and that's when I felt it—weight on my right arm.
I sat up fast.
The woman using my arm as a pillow rolled with the movement. The sheet slipped from our bodies.
Then I saw her face.
Elena.
She lay curled on her side, naked, covered in red marks. Everything—every fucking thing—told me last night wasn't a dream. It was real.
I slept with Elena.
Ice water dumped over my brain. Instant clarity.
Rage. Pure, white-hot rage flooded through me.
That drink.
"Fuck!" The word exploded from me. My chest burned with fury so intense I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze.
I finally understood. The drink was drugged. But who did it?
Elena? Salvador?
Or were they in it together?
"Dante?"
Elena stirred. She looked at me, then down at herself. Her face went pale with shock. Seeing that expression made my blood boil hotter.
Even now she was still acting!
"If you think playing victim is going to make me believe you're innocent," I said through clenched teeth, each word scraping out like gravel, "you can drop the fantasy right now."
Elena grabbed the sheet, covering herself, tears spilling down her cheeks. "It wasn't me! Dante, please, you have to believe me—it wasn't me!"
"If not you, then who?" I roared, control snapping. "You and Salvador planned this together! You wanted to trap me into marrying you, didn't you? Well, let me tell you something—it's not going to work, Elena!"
She shook violently, like I'd struck her. She couldn't even form a complete sentence. Just cried. And her crying made me even more furious. I lunged forward, wrapping my hand around her fragile throat, forcing her to confess.
"Tell me. Was it you?"
She stared at me in agony, both hands clawing at mine, struggling weakly. She shook her head, forcing out, "No... It wasn't..."
"No?" My disgust peaked. "Salvador drugged me, and you just happened to be waiting in my room. Such perfect coordination, and you're telling me you had nothing to do with it? Give me a better explanation, Elena."
I tightened my grip. Her face went red immediately. She gasped for air, suffocating. Just before she passed out, I released her and shoved her hard onto the bed.
Her back hit the corner. She grunted. The sheet fell with the movement, exposing her completely. That's when I saw it—a clear bloodstain on the sheets.
She'd been a virgin.
An emotion I couldn't name—grief mixed with fury—filled my chest. She was a virgin, and she'd rather sleep with a man who didn't love her than fight back.
I punched the wall. "You disgust me, Elena."
When I first met her, I actually thought she was innocent and kind. Looking back now, it was all an act. Lies. She'd played me perfectly.
Elena huddled in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably. She looked at me with tear-filled eyes, repeating the same words: "It wasn't me, Dante. It wasn't me..."
Too late. I couldn't hear anything anymore. I dressed quickly, desperate to escape this filthy room. But I stopped, turned back, and pulled out a stack of cash. Her eyes flickered with hope. I met her gaze and threw the money on the bed.
"That's for last night," I said coldly. "I just fucked a maid. You really think that means I'll marry you? Stop dreaming, Elena. You can't threaten me with that."
Her face went white as a sheet. Watching her suffer gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction. She needed to hurt the way I hurt. She thought her body could trap me? I'd just reduced last night to a transaction.
I turned and walked out without another word.
Elena looked like her soul had left her body. She didn't say anything else.
"Goddammit!"
I left the manor, got in my car, and slammed the door hard enough to shake the frame.
I drove away from the manor, rage boiling over with nowhere to go. It burned hotter and hotter. My foot pressed harder on the accelerator. The engine roared, tearing through New York's early morning quiet.
I returned to Moretti Tower in Manhattan. Still early—hardly anyone in the building yet. I controlled my rage just enough to make it to my office. This whole thing was so humiliating. I destroyed everything in reach, smashing my office to pieces. Even that didn't cool my fury.
Marco rushed in, frowning at the carnage. "Dante, what happened?"
I couldn't say it. Changed the subject. "What's the situation with the underground casinos?"
"Not good." Marco handed me several files. "You need to see these."
I looked down. Red X's marked half the pages.
"Acquiring those casinos is harder than we thought. Our guys hit major resistance." Marco's tone was careful. "They're not cooperating. There's been violence."
The situation was worse than I'd expected. I stayed silent for a long time.
Salvador's power in the family ran deeper than I'd imagined.
Someone knocked. Before I could respond, Alfredo walked right in. Seeing him reignited my rage. I kept my voice low. "What do you want?"
Alfredo carried a document, walking at his usual measured pace, wearing that smug, all-knowing expression I hated.
"Salvador asked me to inform you that he's aware of what happened between you and Elena last night. He's very pleased."
My fingers curled into fists.
"At last night's dinner, Salvador announced your engagement to Miss Clark in front of everyone. The wedding is scheduled for three days from now." Alfredo's tone was flat as a weather report. "In exchange, Salvador sent me with this contract."
I fought to control myself. If I didn't, I'd put Alfredo in the ICU with one punch.
He'd somehow gotten inside information about company business. The contract listed the same casinos Marco had mentioned—but the terms were completely different. Same properties. Opposite outcome.
"If you agree to the marriage, the casinos you want will transfer directly to you." Alfredo paused. "The wedding's already being planned. Elena will be there in three days. You're the only one missing, Dante."
Absolutely ridiculous.
They'd calculated everything. Drug me at the party, put Elena in my room, announce the engagement while I was gone, then dangle the casinos as the final bargaining chip. Every move planned. Every move backing me into a corner.
I clenched my fists. Something in my chest was about to explode. But I didn't speak. Just stared at that contract.
Alfredo's job was done. "See you at the manor in three days. Congratulations on your wedding."
He turned to leave. I nearly lost control, grabbing the document and hurling it at the wall. "How dare he!"
Marco came to my side, hand on my shoulder. "Dante, calm down."
"I can't calm down!" I whipped around, eyes bloodshot. "Do you know what they did? You think I'll cave because of some contract? They're dreaming!"
Marco picked up the papers, scanning them carefully. After a moment, his expression darkened. "The contract's clean. No tricks. You marry Elena, those old bastards hand over the casinos voluntarily. It takes effect automatically after the wedding."
"They knew exactly what I'd care about!" I could barely breathe. "I don't care what you have to do—kill them, take the casinos by force, whatever—I'm getting those properties my way!"
Marco knew I was too worked up to think straight. He handed me a cigar, lit it, and patted my shoulder. "Cool off, Dante. Signing this contract is our best option."
I knew.
Of course I knew.
Harsh tobacco smoke slid down my throat. I narrowed my eyes. Logic and impulse tore at my brain. Salvador's deals were always hard to refuse. This was his way of proving something.
My company, my plans, my life—all under his control.
If I took the casinos by force, I'd lose people. Unnecessary casualties. Not what I wanted.
"Long-term, once we have the casinos, we cut off their revenue stream. We dismantle their power base gradually." Marco's tone was serious. I knew he was right. "The marriage actually speeds up our timeline. And we don't lose any of our own people."
One cigar burned down. My internal war reached its conclusion.
"You're right. Marry Elena, I get what I want." My eyes turned cold. "What I do to her after the wedding? Salvador can't touch that. I can torment her, humiliate her, while I expand my power until I'm completely free of Salvador's control."
"As long as I'm patient enough," I said each word deliberately, "I can make both Elena and Salvador regret today."
In a few years, Salvador would age out. The Moretti family would be fully mine. Then I could divorce Elena. She'd just be a powerless mob wife. No way to fight back.
Elena and Salvador played a game.
Fine. I'd play mine.
I laughed coldly. "Three days. We go back to the manor for the wedding."