Chapter 63 Chapter 63
Dante
The moment Belladonna’s eyes lock on me, lips caught between her teeth, I lose it. The stripper’s throat takes my release, but it’s not her that makes me come undone—it’s Belladonna. Fuck, that girl is fire. She doesn’t even know the power she has over me. Every look, every defiant breath… it makes me want to ruin her in ways she can’t even imagine.
I send the girl to the bathroom with a flick of my hand, zip my pants, and light a cigar. When I step out, Belladonna is there, frozen, legs trembling, trying so hard to mask her desire with that deadly glare. I know she’s wet. I know she wants me, no matter how much she tries to fight it.
I move toward her, but the moment I speak, she bolts, cheeks flushed, sweat beading at her temple. She practically runs downstairs like I’ve just branded her soul. I let her go. I savor the chase.
Kathy reappears from the bathroom, all smiles like nothing happened. “You good, boss?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I exhale smoke, my gaze still lingering in the direction Belladonna ran. Kathy’s useful, a quick way to take the edge off, but nothing more. She could suck me dry a hundred times and it still wouldn’t erase the hunger I have for Belladonna.
Eventually, I head downstairs and find them, Enzo with his drink, and Belladonna right there, looking like sin wrapped in silk. Christ, she’s beautiful. I greet Enzo and the other man, my eyes never leaving her. Enzo smirks, proud to announce, “This is Dante Manchini. The club’s his.”
I sit beside her, lean close, and whisper, “You wanted me, didn’t you?”
She shivers, presses her knees together. She can deny it with her mouth, but her body already betrays her.
When she abruptly tells Enzo she’s leaving, I offer, “Let me walk you out.” She doesn’t argue, just storms off toward her car. I follow, watching the sway of her hips as she heads to that sleek black Porsche.
“Belladonna,” I call out.
She spins, venom in her voice. “Stay the fuck away from me, Dante.”
I take a slow drag of my cigar. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Her eyes blaze. “Fuck you, Dante.”
I step closer, leaning against her car as she gets in. She lowers the window just to spit her hate at me. “I hate you.”
I smirk, lowering my face near hers, close enough to taste her fury. “I know, Madonna.”
She doesn’t understand yet. She thinks she can run, thinks her anger will protect her. But she has no idea. She’s mine already. Soon, she’ll find out we’re bound by more than desire, we’re bound by blood, by power, by a marriage neither of us can escape.
I step back as she starts the engine, watching her speed off into the night. A smile curls on my lips. Let her run. The hunt has just begun.
Belladonna
By the time I get home, I feel drained. My head is spinning with Dante, his smirk, his voice in my ear, the way he looked at me like he already owned me. I shake it off, desperate to clear him from my mind, and change into my soft, oversized pajamas. They’re my comfort armor, a reminder that I’m safe here, in my own space.
Padding downstairs, I make myself some tea. The kettle’s whistle fills the silence, grounding me, and soon I’m perched on the islandbar, hands wrapped around the warm mug. Each sip helps me settle, though my thoughts keep wandering back to the club, to the way Dante leaned in too close, to the words he whispered that made my whole body betray me.
I grab my phone and text Lily, needing distraction. How are you?Her reply comes fast: Safe. I’m fine. Relief washes over me, and I allow myself a small smile. At least one part of my world isn’t on fire.
But the peace doesn’t last long. Enzo strolls into the kitchen, looking at me with that brotherly mix of suspicion and curiosity.
“Why did you leave early?” he asks, sliding onto the stool across from me.
I keep my tone casual, sipping my tea again. “I was kind of bored.”
His eyes narrow, as though he doesn’t buy it. “Was it because of Dante?” he asks, hesitant but probing.
I shake my head quickly, maybe too quickly. “No.”
Enzo studies me, then smirks faintly. “I always notice that you’re rude to him.”
I roll my eyes, setting my mug down with a soft clink. “I don’t like him.” Just saying it out loud sends a shiver down my spine, because the truth is more complicated than that. It’s not that I don’t like him—it’s that I feel too much when he’s around.
Enzo scoffs, leaning back. “You better start being nice to him before you regret it.”
I freeze. My head snaps toward him, and I gawk. “What do you mean?” My voice rises a little as I push the mug away. “Say something, Enzo.”
He chuckles, maddeningly calm, like he’s enjoying keeping me in the dark. “Nah, you’ll see later on.”
Frustration claws at me. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
He doesn’t answer, just stands, stretching lazily. “Good night, sister.” He heads upstairs, leaving me in the dim kitchen, stunned and restless.
I sigh heavily, dragging a hand through my hair. His words echo in my head, refusing to let me go. You’ll regret it.
What the hell does that mean? Why Dante, of all people? Why does it feel like there’s something they’re not telling me?
The tea has gone cold in my mug, but I can’t move. I sit there in the quiet, staring at nothing, my chest tight with dread. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Enzo, it’s that he doesn’t throw words like that around lightly.
And if Dante really is tied to my future… I’m not sure if I should be terrified or tempted.