Chapter 9: The Devil’s Bargain

The study smelled of leather, old books, and him—that mix of expensive cologne and something darker, dangerous. Dante stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, silhouetted against the Manhattan skyline. He didn’t turn when I entered, which should have been my first warning.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. “No snide remarks about my security protocols? No pointed questions about the shipment?”

I swallowed hard, the weight of the USB drive burning against my thigh where I’d tucked it into the inner pocket of my jeans. “I’m tired.”

“Tired.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That’s a new one, Liora. You’ve been many things since I pulled you from that warehouse—defiant, furious, calculating. But never tired.”

He turned then, and my breath caught. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the hint of a tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric. His eyes, those storm-gray orbs that could shift from ice to fire in a heartbeat, were fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“I got a call tonight,” he said, walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps. “From a man who claims to have a mutual acquaintance with my fiancée.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. My hand instinctively went to my thigh, pressing against the USB.

“Don’t.” His voice was soft, almost gentle, but it stopped me cold. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I managed, but my voice cracked.

Dante stopped inches from me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Vincent Moretti. Does that name ring a bell, Liora?”

My heart stopped. Vincent was supposed to be my escape, my revenge, my way out of this gilded cage. I’d been so careful. Encrypted messages, dead drops, burner phones. How had he—

“I’ve known since the night of the engagement party,” Dante continued, his hand coming up to cup my chin, tilting my face to meet his gaze. “I saw you slip away with his man. I watched you negotiate the terms of my destruction through a glass pane, thinking I couldn’t read lips.”

The shame hit me like acid. “Then why didn’t you stop me?”

“Because I needed to see.” His thumb traced my lower lip, feather-light. “I needed to know if you were just a plant, a traitor sent to destroy me. Or if you were something more.”

“And what did you decide?”

His other hand found my waist, pulling me against him. The hardness of his body pressed into me, and I felt the coiled tension beneath his composed surface. “I decided that you were either the biggest threat I’ve ever faced, or the only woman who could ever stand beside me.”

“Dante, I—” The words caught in my throat. The USB felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. “I was going to do it. I was going to hand them everything.”

“I know.” His voice was raw, stripped of all pretense. “And I also know why you didn’t.”

I looked away, unable to bear the vulnerability in his eyes. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know you could have let me die in that warehouse. I know you had a clear shot at my back in the parking garage last Tuesday. I know every single time you’ve had an opportunity to end this, you’ve chosen to stay.”

“Maybe I was waiting for the right moment.”

“Maybe.” He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. “Or maybe, just maybe, you’re as trapped in this as I am.”

“I’m not trapped.” The protest was weak, pathetic.

“No?” His hand slid up my spine, fingers tangling in my hair. “Then why is your heart racing? Why are your hands shaking? Why, Liora, does every fiber of your being scream to run, and yet you’re still standing here, letting me touch you?”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He was too close, too real, too everything I’d tried to deny for weeks.

“Because I hate you,” I whispered.

“I know.” His lips hovered over mine. “I hate you too.”

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tender. It was a claiming, a possession, a declaration war. His mouth crashed against mine with the force of a hurricane, and I responded in kind, fisting his shirt in my hands, pulling him impossibly closer. The kiss was punishment and absolution, damnation and salvation, all tangled together until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with want. “Marry me, Liora.”

“I already said yes.”

“No.” He shook his head, his hand coming up to cup my face again. “Not the business arrangement. Marry me. Really marry me. Let me in. Let me see all of you, not just the parts you think are safe.”

The USB burned against my thigh. Vincent’s voice echoed in my head: You deliver the evidence, or your sister dies.

“Dante, you don’t understand. There are things—” My voice broke. “Things I can’t tell you.”

“Then keep them.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “Keep your secrets. Keep your weapons. Keep whatever darkness you carry. Just also keep me.”

The tears came then, hot and unwanted, streaming down my cheeks. “I don’t know how to be anyone but who I am.”

“Then be that.” He kissed my tears away. “Be the woman who can kill a man without flinching. Be the woman who negotiates with my enemies while wearing my ring. Be everything you are, Liora, and let me be everything I am.”

I opened my mouth to respond, to give him the answer he wanted, when the study door burst open.

“Don Dante.” It was Marco, his second-in-command, his face pale. “We have a situation.”

Dante’s expression shuttered instantly, the vulnerability vanishing behind a mask of cold steel. “What kind of situation?”

Marco’s eyes flickered to me, then back to Dante. “It’s the sister. Liora’s sister. She’s gone. Vincent took her.”

The world stopped.

The USB in my pocket felt like a bomb, and somewhere in the distance, I heard a phone start to ring...