Chapter 15 Chapter 15 – The Price of Fire

Chapter 15 Chapter 15 – The Price of Fire
Dante

Mya doesn’t understand the distinction yet. She thinks punishment will involve pain. She thinks the sting of leather on skin, or the breaking of bones, is where power lies. She’s wrong.

The greatest violence I can inflict on her is denial.

I watch her through the feed in my study, a silent shadow monitoring the cage. She’s pacing the room, running her hands through her hair. She’s breathing rage, but there are no more tears. That’s an improvement. The hysterical, wounded fawn is gone. In her place, a cold, calculating fury has taken root.

When she glared at me as I left the music room, her eyes weren’t defeated. They were hardened. They held the same cold intensity as my own. She looked like she was planning a murder, not an escape. The thought of her coming at me with a knife sends a painful jolt to my balls.

I lean back, the leather of my chair groaning in protest. I sip the scotch, neat and strong, but it barely touches the raw heat thrumming under my skin.

My cock is still a painful reminder, tight and aching, a testament to the fact that I won’t break my own vow. I won’t take release on my own. It will be hers to give, or ours to share, and it will be inside her womb. She’s paying the price, but so am I. That shared tension, that burning, mutual lack, is what’s going to melt her down.

When she tried to run, Nico caught her with effortless alacrity. I know it wasn’t a true attempt. It was a spur of the moment decision. A test. Now she knows it won’t be that simple.

My wife is smart. Too smart to be kept as a pet. A caged lion eventually dies of boredom, and then where’s the challenge? I didn’t claim her just for her genes. I saw more in her than the penchant for defiance.

I wanted her because she possesses the same ruthless intelligence I have, just wrapped in a younger, prettier shell. Keeping her locked in the mansion will only sharpen her rage without harnessing her mind. That’s wasteful.

I need her in the heart of my world, where she can see the stakes firsthand. Where she can learn what power really means, not just what it looks like from the wrong side of a gun.

I finish the scotch, the heat settling low in my gut. It’s time to move the parameters of the cage.

I call Nico. “Have them prepare a vehicle for the morning. I’m taking Mrs. Cardello to the tower. And give her a new phone, encrypted to my network, with only my numbers and the staff directory available.”

Just in case she thinks she can call for help. She needs to know that her voice only travels as far as I allow it.

I walk toward the suite, wondering whether she’ll pretend to be asleep when she hears my approach.

When I enter, she doesn’t flinch. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, perfectly still, radiating a controlled hostility that makes me smile. She’s wearing a long silk robe, modest and chaste, but I know what’s underneath. I know what I did to her less than an hour ago.

“You’re coming to the office with me tomorrow,” I tell her, my voice low. “Wear something suitable. Something that shows you have a mind as well as a killer body.”

Her head snaps up. “It’s past midnight, I’m not in the mood for your games, Dante. What’s this parade in aid of?”

I walk to the window, pulling the heavy drapes shut. “You have a degree in business, Mya. A First Class distinction, if I remember correctly. I’m sure you’d rather not let that go to waste?”

She scrambles to her feet, the robe rustling. “What does that have to do with anything? I won’t look at your dirty books.”

I turn, letting her see the full, brutal measure of my coldness. “You won’t simply look, Mya. You’ll learn. Your father stole from my ledgers. You need to understand the cost of that stupidity. You need to see the empire you’re marrying into. You need to earn your place at my side.”

I take a step toward her. “You thought I was going to lock you in a tower, feed you grapes, and demand an heir through sporadic violence. That’s for weak men and weaker wives. I demand competence. Your cleverness is a resource, and I intend to use it.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ll use it against you.”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t try.”

I reach out and grab a fistful of her robe, pulling her close enough that she can feel the aching heat of my body through the thin silk.

“You want to find an angle? You want to know where my weak spots are? Come to the office. Study my operations. See if you can find a chink in the armor. It’ll keep you busy, and it’ll keep you right where I can watch you.”

My breath brushes her ear. “And while you’re calculating my profits, remember this hunger.” I press my rigid cock hard against her belly. “Remember the lack. Remember who holds the key to your release, Mya. The more you fight me, the more I enjoy this mutual starvation. You won’t break me. But you’ll beg to break yourself on my shaft.”

Her breath hitches, the familiar, intoxicating tremble starting deep in her core. Her fury is still there, but beneath it, the craving is a low, persistent thrum.

I release her just as quickly, letting the silk fall away. I walk to the en-suite and grab a clean towel, a final deliberate motion of unhurried control as I stride to the shower.

“We’ll leave at eight. Breakfast will be at seven. Don’t be late. There’s a charcoal suit that will be perfect, wear that.”

I let the bathroom door click shut behind me. I don’t need to look at the camera feed to know her jaw is set, her eyes burning with hate. But her mind is already working. She’s already planning her counter-attack. She’s already playing the game.

And that makes the denial worthwhile. She’s exactly where I want her. Learning how to fight in my corner.