Copyright

Owned by The Don’s Obsession

Copyright © 2026 Queen Blue

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form without written permission from the author, except for brief quotations in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This book contains mature themes, including violence and explicit romantic content, and is intended for adult readers.

Chapter 1: Sold Out by My Own Blood

The mahogany desk in my father’s home office smelled of stale bourbon and cheap cigars. But tonight, another scent drowned it out completely.

Gun oil. Rain. Cold leather.

“Sign it, Vance,” a voice rasped from the shadows near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I stood frozen near the doorway, the brass handle still cold in my trembling palm. The room was illuminated only by the faint amber glow of the desk lamp and the sharp, violent flash of lightning outside.

My father—a man who spent his whole life pretending to be a king—was currently on his knees. Sweat soaked through his crisp white collar. His hand shook so hard he could barely hold the pen hovering over a thick stack of legal documents.

“Please, Don Moretti,” my father stammered, his voice pathetic and weak. “Give me two more weeks. The stock portfolio—it’s going to bounce back. I just need a little time—”

“Two weeks?”

The man sitting in my father’s expensive leather armchair leaned slowly into the light.

Dante Moretti.

Even in the underworld, his name was spoken like a death sentence. He looked to be in his late thirties, clad in a charcoal three-piece suit that fit his broad frame with lethal precision. His face looked carved from marble—sharp jaw, cold gray eyes, and a thin scar slicing through his left eyebrow.

He didn’t look angry. That was the scariest part. He looked completely bored by my father’s begging.

“You’ve had six months, Arthur,” Dante said, his deep voice slicing through the thunder outside. “And twenty-four million dollars doesn’t simply disappear.”

“I... I don’t have the liquid cash!” my father sobbed, dropping his head until his forehead almost touched the rug. “I don’t have it!”

Dante stood up.

He was massive—easily six-foot-three—and his shadow swallowed the room whole. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, casually fixing his platinum cufflinks without rushing a single movement.

“Then we execute Clause 4,” Dante murmured, taking a slow step toward the desk.

“No! Not that! Anything but that!” my father gasped, scrambling backward on his knees. He raised his head, his panicked eyes darting around the room until they landed on me standing by the door.

Dante’s gray eyes followed his gaze.

Across the expanse of the dark office, his eyes locked straight onto mine. I froze. The breath hitched in my throat, my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird. The sheer weight of his stare felt heavy, suffocating.

“You have a daughter,” Dante said softly, his eyes never leaving my face.

My father didn’t hesitate. He didn’t scream. He didn’t try to protect me.

He just swallowed hard, looked up at Dante, and pushed the papers forward.

“Take her,” my father whispered. “Take her and wipe the debt.”

My jaw dropped. The word hung in the cold air, sickening and sharp. Take her.

“Dad...” My voice trembled as I backed up until my spine hit the doorframe. “What are you doing? What did you just say?”

My father didn’t answer. He couldn’t even look me in the eye. He just stared at the floor, wiping sweat from his forehead with a trembling sleeve.

A set of slow, heavy footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor.

Dante walked around the desk, stopping just inches away from me. Up close, his height was overwhelming. He smelled of rain, expensive cologne, and dark tobacco.

His gray eyes swept down my body—from my messy bun, past my oversized sweater, down to my bare feet on the floorboards.

He didn’t look at me like a person. He looked at me like a fresh purchase.

“How old are you?” Dante asked. His deep voice vibrated right through my chest.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my chin up even as my knees shook. “Twenty-two. And I’m not a piece of property.”

A faint, cruel smirk touched the corner of his lips. “You are whatever your father traded you for, little bird.”

“I’m a human being!” I snapped, my eyes stinging with heat. “You can’t just take a person! This is illegal!”

In one swift movement, his hand shot out.

His long fingers wrapped around my throat. He didn’t squeeze hard enough to stop my breath, but his grip was firm, pinning my head back against the wall. His thumb pressed directly over my pulse point.

I gasped. The heat of his palm was scorching against my cold skin.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his tone quiet, dark, and utterly absolute.

My eyes snapped to his. Up close, the silver flecks in his gray eyes looked like ice.

“Your father owes me twenty-four million dollars,” Dante murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of my ear. His hot breath sent an unwanted shiver straight down my spine, making my skin prickle. “You belong to the Moretti family now. Every inch of you. Every breath you take.”

“I’ll fight you,” I whispered, tears of anger threatening to spill. “I’ll fight you every single day.”

Dante pulled back slightly, his thumb pressing gently into the pulse hammering in my neck. He felt how fast my heart was racing. He knew I was terrified.

And he liked it.

“I count on it,” he whispered.

He let go of my neck, the sudden absence of his touch leaving my skin burning. He didn’t even glance back at my father as he turned toward two huge men in black suits standing near the window.

“Gino. Put her in the back of the SUV.”

“Wait! No!” I reached frantically for the brass door handle, but before I could turn it, a heavy hand clamped down on my arm, yanking me backward into the dark hallway.

Chapter 2: The Night the Demon Came

Rain poured down in relentless sheets, drumming against the tinted glass of the blacked-out SUV.

I was shoved into the plush leather back seat, my shoulder slamming against the far door. Before I could even reach for the inner handle, the heavy door slammed shut, and the electronic locks clicked into place with a definitive, chilling sound.

Clack.

“Let me out!” I screamed, throwing my weight against the door panel. I yanked on the handle, but it was completely dead. “Let me go, you bastards!”

I turned around, reaching frantically for the door on the opposite side, but my knees hit a pair of long, suit-clad legs.

Dante was already sitting there.

He hadn’t made a sound as he slid into the vehicle. He sat back against the leather with effortless dominance, one leg crossed over the other, casually checking a sleek, dark smartwatch on his wrist.

“Save your breath, Elena,” Dante said smoothly, not even looking up at me. “The doors are reinforced. The glass is bulletproof. You could scream until your throat bleeds, and no one on this street would hear a single sound.”

My heart pounded violently against my ribs. Hearing him say my name sent a cold bolt of heat straight to my stomach.

“My name isn’t yours to speak,” I spat, pulling my legs away from his suit pants and pressing myself as far into the corner of the seat as possible. “You think you can just kidnap me? This is human trafficking! The police—”

Dante raised his head. The faint glow of the streetlights passing outside sliced through the darkness, illuminating the hard, sharp line of his jaw.

“The chief of police sits at my dinner table every third Sunday of the month,” Dante interrupted softly. His gray eyes locked onto mine, completely devoid of warmth. “Your father knew who he was dealing with when he signed those papers. There is no cavalry coming for you, little bird. No one is searching for what was willingly given away.”

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, hot and furious. The reality of my father’s betrayal washed over me again, heavy and suffocating. He had handed me over to a monster just to save his own skin.

“He had no right,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. “I’m not his to give.”

“No,” Dante agreed, leaning forward slightly. The movement brought him into my space, his heavy male shadow swallowing me whole. “He wasn’t your owner. But now... I am.”

“I will never belong to you,” I snarled, glaring at him through the dim light. “You can keep me in this car, you can lock me in a room, but you will never own me.”

Dante didn’t look angered by my defiance. If anything, a dark, dangerous glint entered his eyes.

He uncrossed his legs and leaned closer, his massive frame trapping me against the corner of the door. The heat radiating off his body was overwhelming, thick with the scent of rain, cedarwood, and refined leather.

Before I could pull away, his long fingers reached out and clamped around my jaw.

His grip was firm, holding my head still as his thumb brushed over the lower curve of my lip. The contrast between his calloused skin and my soft lips made my breath catch in my throat.

“You talk big for someone whose pulse is beating like a trapped bird’s,” he murmured, his deep voice dripping with dark satisfaction.

“Release me,” I gasped, trying to pull back, but his grip on my jaw only tightened slightly, tilting my face up toward his.

“Look at you,” Dante whispered, his gray eyes darkening as they tracked down to my mouth, then slowly back up to meet my gaze. “Terrified. Trembling. Yet you still stare at me like you want to claw my eyes out.”

“I want to kill you,” I whispered back, my eyes burning with fierce defiance even as a strange, traitorous heat coiled low in my belly at his proximity.

A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated from deep within his chest. It was a terrifyingly attractive sound.

“Good,” Dante said, leaning down until his lips brushed the sensitive skin just below my ear. His hot breath sent an intense shiver racing down my spine, making every hair on my arms stand up. “Keep that fire, Elena. Because when I finally break you... I want to hear you fight just as hard before you beg.”

He pressed a firm, lingering kiss right to the throbbing pulse point on my neck, his stubble grazing my skin just enough to leave a stinging heat in its wake.

I gasped, my hands flying up to push against his chest. My palms hit the rock-hard plane of his suit jacket, but he didn’t budge an inch.

He pulled back slowly, his eyes dark with absolute possession as he released my jaw, leaving his hot thumbprint burning on my skin.

“Driver,” Dante commanded, never breaking eye contact with me. “Take us home.”

The SUV lurched forward, speeding off into the dark, rain-drenched night, carrying me far away from everything I had ever known.

Chapter 3: “Take Me Instead”

The massive iron gates swung open with a heavy, mechanical groan as the SUV rolled onto the private estate.

Towering pine trees lined the long, winding driveway, blocking out the city completely. At the end of the road stood the mansion—a sprawling, dark-stone estate shrouded in mist, illuminated by muted exterior floodlights. Armed men in dark suits were stationed every twenty feet along the perimeter, rain glistening off their rifles.

The SUV ground to a halt under the wide marble portico.

Before I could process where we were, Dante’s door was opened from the outside. He stepped out smoothly into the cool night air, unbuttoning his coat.

A moment later, my door opened.

“Out, Miss,” a hulking guard with a scarred neck said, holding the door wide.

I hesitated, pulling my knees closer to my chest. “No.”

Dante didn’t even turn around as he walked up the grand stone steps. “Bring her inside, Gino. Don’t break anything... yet.”

“Got it, Don Moretti,” Gino grunted. He reached into the back seat, grabbing my wrist with a grip like steel, and hauled me out of the vehicle.

“Let go of me!” I screamed, kicking out. My bare heel caught his shin, making him hiss, but he barely flinched. He dragged me up the steps like a sack of flour, my feet scraping against the wet marble.

We burst through the massive double doors into a grand foyer lined with white marble, crystal chandeliers, and a sweeping curved staircase. The warmth inside hit my cold skin instantly, but the air felt heavy, suffocatingly quiet.

Gino tossed me onto the polished floor. I slid a few inches, my palms catching my weight as my messy hair fell over my face.

“That’s enough, Gino.” Dante’s deep, commanding voice echoed off the high ceilings.

The guard immediately stepped back, bowing his head slightly before exiting the foyer, closing the heavy doors with a resonant thud.

I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, breathing heavily, and looked up.

Dante was standing near the base of the staircase. He had already shed his suit jacket, draped over the banister, leaving him in a crisp black dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Vascular, corded muscle and the edge of a dark tattoo peeked through the black fabric.

He took slow, deliberate steps toward me, his leather shoes clicking against the marble.

“You’re feisty,” Dante murmured, stopping right in front of me. The sheer size of him blocked out the chandelier light above, casting me in his shadow. “Kicking my men. Screaming like a wild animal.”

“I’m not your captive!” I spat, scrambling backward until my shoulders hit the base of a marble pillar.

Dante crouched down in front of me. The shift brought us eye-to-eye, his cold gray gaze holding mine captive. He reached out, his warm, heavy hand cupping the back of my neck. His fingers tangled into my damp hair, gently tugging my head back until my throat was fully exposed to him.

“Look around you, Elena,” he whispered, his thumb lightly stroking the sharp line of my jawline. “Look at where you are. There are no neighbors. No passersby. Every man on this property answers only to me.”

My pulse hammered wildly against his palm—a frantic, fluttering beat. I hated how my body reacted to him. Every place his skin touched mine felt like it was catching fire, a terrifying, electric current running through my veins.

“You took me because of a debt,” I said, my voice trembling as I tried to keep my breathing steady. “My father... he has a younger son. Leo. He’s only twelve.”

Dante’s gray eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle shift in his expression. “I know who your family is.”

“If my father couldn’t pay... he would have sold Leo next, wouldn’t he?” Tears finally spilled over my eyelashes, burning down my cheeks. “He would have given you my little brother.”

Dante stayed silent, his grip on my neck remaining firm, unyielding.

“So take me instead,” I gasped, leaning into his hold just enough to look directly into his eyes, my chest heaving against my oversized sweater. “Keep me here. Do whatever you want to me. Lock me in this place forever if you have to... but leave Leo out of this. Swear you won’t touch him.”

Dante’s eyes darkened, the silver flecks in them glittering with a sudden, intense heat. His thumb moved from my jaw to press firmly against my lower lip, parting it slightly.

“A trade?” Dante rasped, his voice dropping an octave, thick with possessive interest. “You’re offering yourself up to save a boy who shares the same blood as the man who sold you out?”

“Leo is innocent,” I whispered, my lips brushing against his thumb as I spoke. The contact sent a sharp heat straight down to my core. “I’m the one in your house. Take me instead.”

Dante leaned in close, his face inches from mine. His hot breath mingled with mine, smelling of dark tobacco and sweet bourbon.

“You don’t have to bargain for what I already own, little bird,” he growled softly, his lips brushing the sensitive spot right beneath my earlobe. A sharp shiver racked my entire body, a soft gasp escaping my throat. “Your brother won’t be touched. Not because you asked... but because you belong to me now. And I don’t share my property’s burdens.”

He pulled back just enough to look into my wide, dazed eyes. His hand slid down from my hair, his knuckles trailing down the side of my neck, over my collarbone, and resting heavy against the center of my chest, right over my wildly pounding heart.

“You asked me to take you,” Dante murmured, his eyes fixated on my mouth. “Careful what you demand from a demon, Elena. Because I intend to take every single piece of you until there’s nothing left.”

Chapter 4: The Capo’s Suite

Dante stood up in one fluid, towering motion, taking my wrist and pulling me off the cold marble floor before I could even catch my breath.

“Hey—let me go!” I stumbled, my feet nearly slipping on the polished stone.

He didn’t bother replying. His grip on my wrist was like an iron cuff—warm, unyielding, and impossible to shake off. He dragged me up the grand curved staircase, his long strides forcing me to half-run just to keep up.

“Dante, stop!” I pulled back with all my weight, but it was like trying to anchor a storm.

We reached the top floor, moving down a long, dimly lit hallway lined with dark wood paneling and priceless art. At the far end, Dante pushed open a massive set of double doors and pulled me inside before closing them behind us with a heavy, final click.

The room was enormous. A plush king-sized bed wrapped in charcoal silk linens sat against the far wall, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the rain-soaked grounds. A fireplace crackled in the corner, casting flickering orange shadows across the dark interior.

“This is my private wing,” Dante said, his deep voice echoing off the high ceilings as he finally let go of my wrist.

I immediately cradled my arm against my chest, taking a quick step backward toward the center of the room. “Why brought me here? Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“Right where I can see you,” he growled softly, unbuttoning his cufflinks and tossing them onto a nearby glass table.

His gray eyes locked onto mine, tracking the sharp rise and fall of my chest. The rain had soaked through my oversized sweater, clinging damply to my collarbones and shoulders.

He took two slow, deliberate steps toward me.

“You’re shivering,” he murmured, stopping right in front of me.

“Because I’m trapped in a house with a monster,” I hissed, holding his stare even as my heart hammered frantically against my ribs.

Dante’s eyes darkened. Without a word, his hands reached out, settling heavily on my waist. His large fingers dug slightly into my sides through the damp fabric, pulling me two inches forward until my stomach was pressed directly against his rigid belt buckle.

A sharp, electric shock ran up my spine. My breath caught in my throat.

“Look at you,” Dante rasped, his voice dropping to a gravelly, dangerous whisper. “Spitting poison while your body trembles in my hands.”

“I hate you,” I whispered, though the words lacked power as his heat seeped through my thin clothes, melting the chill from my skin.

“Good,” Dante murmured. His right hand slid up from my waist, slow and deliberate, trailing along my ribs until his calloused palm rested flat against the back of my neck. He tilted my head back, forcing me to look up into the cold, silver fire of his eyes. “Hate me all you want, Elena. But don’t lie to yourself about how your body reacts when I touch you.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing the sensitive line of my jaw, moving slow and agonizingly deliberate down to my throbbing pulse point.

I let out a soft, involuntary gasp, my hands instinctively flying up to grip the fabric of his black dress shirt. My knuckles dug into the hard muscle of his chest, meant to push him away—but my fingers refused to shove.

“You feel that?” Dante growled into my skin, his thumb pressing firmly into my lower lip, forcing my mouth open just a fraction. His hot breath fanned over my skin, smelling of dark bourbon and heat. “Your heart is racing for me, little bird.”

“It’s fear,” I managed to choke out, my legs feeling dangerously weak beneath me.

“Is it?” Dante pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine with a ruthless, possessive intensity. He traced the swollen curve of my bottom lip with his thumb before pressing his hips closer, letting me feel the dangerous, unyielding ridge of his desire through his trousers.

My eyes widened, a hot flush rushing from my chest all the way to my cheeks.

“Tomorrow, the rules of this house begin,” Dante growled, his voice thick with raw dominance. “You don’t leave this room without my permission. You don’t speak unless I allow it. And when I enter this door... you yield.”

“And if I refuse?” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of defiance and intense, undeniable heat.

Dante’s hand tightened in my damp hair, gently tugging until my lips were a hair’s breadth from his.

“Then I’ll take pleasure in teaching you how to beg.”

Chapter 5: Rule Number One: Complete Obedience

Morning arrived with cold, gray light filtering through the sheer floor-to-ceiling curtains.

I was curled up at the very edge of the massive king-sized bed, clutching a silk pillow tightly against my chest. I hadn’t slept a single second. Every creak of the dark floorboards, every sharp gust of wind against the heavy glass had kept my heart pounding like a trapped bird in my ribcage.

Dante hadn’t slept in the bed. He had spent the remaining hours of the night across the suite in his glass-walled study, reviewing documents under the low, amber glow of a desk lamp. His dark silhouette had loomed over the room like a silent shadow, reminding me every time I opened my eyes that I was entirely at his mercy.

The sharp, metallic click of a heavy lock brought me upright instantly.

Dante walked into the main bedroom area. He was already fully dressed in a fresh, dark navy suit, his silver-streaked dark hair combed back into place. He looked impossibly pristine, cold, and utterly lethal. The rich scent of dark, freshly brewed espresso and fine cologne filled the air, immediately chasing away the lingering damp smell of rain.

He stopped at the foot of the bed, his silver-gray eyes scanning my disheveled state—my tangled hair clinging to my neck, my sweater stretched low over one bare, exposed shoulder.

“Get up,” Dante commanded softly. His voice carried that low, dangerous weight that made my stomach drop.

I pulled the heavy duvet higher over my collarbones, glaring at him through my messy bangs. “No.”

A faint, dangerous eyebrow arched up. “No?”

“I am not your servant, Dante,” I said, my voice hoarse from lack of sleep, but sharp with defiance. “You can keep me locked in this room, but you don’t get to order me around like I’m a dog.”

Dante didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t look angry. Instead, he slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket and tossed it over the velvet bench at the foot of the bed. He unclipped his heavy platinum watch, placing it on the nightstand with a quiet, deliberate clack.

The deliberate slowness of his movements made my throat dry up instantly.

He moved around the mattress with terrifying, fluid speed. Before I could scramble back toward the headboard, his knees hit the mattress, and his hand shot out—capturing both of my wrists in a single, massive palm.

“Ah!” I gasped as he yanked my hands high above my head, pinning them flat against the dark wood of the headboard.

The duvet slid down to my waist, exposing the flush rising across my chest and the fast, heavy heave of my breathing. Dante hovered over me, his massive frame trapping me completely against the silk sheets. His scent—warm leather, cedar, and raw, suffocating heat—engulfed me entirely.

“Rule Number One in this house, Elena,” Dante growled low, his face dipping so close I could feel the searing heat radiating off his sharp jawline. “When I speak, you move.”

“Let me go!” I thrashed under him, kicking my legs against the mattress, but it was like trying to shake off a solid steel cage.

My chest heaved violently against his, my bare nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of my sweater as they rubbed directly against the hard expanse of his dress shirt.

Dante felt it. His gray eyes darkened to the color of a storm cloud.

His free hand moved down, his long, calloused fingers wrapping around my throat—not shutting off my air, but pinning my head back deep into the pillows. His thumb pressed firmly against the pulse hammering wildly in my neck.

“Look at you,” Dante murmured, his voice dipping into a dark, gravelly rasp that sent a wave of liquid heat straight down between my thighs. “Fighting me with everything you have, yet your heart is beating like a drum for my touch.”

“It’s hatred,” I choked out, staring straight into his eyes, refusing to break eye contact even as tears of frustration burned my eyes. “Pure, unadulterated hatred.”

Dante smirked—a slow, predatory curve of his lips that made my blood run hot.

He leaned down, trailing the sharp line of his nose along my jawline, taking his time down to the sensitive skin right under my ear. He bit down gently on the soft flesh—just enough pressure to send a violent jolt of electricity straight to my core.

A soft, humiliating gasp escaped my lips. My hips instinctively jerked upward, brushing directly against the thick, rock-hard ridge strained behind his trousers.

Dante let out a low, dark rumble against my skin. He pressed his hips down harder, grinding his heavy length into the apex of my thighs, letting me feel every single inch of how hard he was for me.

My eyes widened, a hot, uncontrollable flush rushing from my breasts up to my face. I was already wet. Slick heat pooled between my legs, traitorous and heavy, reacting to the absolute authority in his touch.

“Your mouth says hatred, little bird,” Dante whispered, his warm, wet lips brushing my throbbing pulse point as he spoke. “But your body is dripping for me. You can feel it, can’t you? How wet you are just from me holding you down?”

“Dante... please,” I whimpered, hate and burning shame warring violently inside my chest.

He pulled back slightly, his thumb pressing into my lower lip, dragging it down until my mouth parted for him. He slipped his thumb inside, rubbing over my lower teeth, forcing me to feel the intrusion.

“You will shower,” Dante commanded, his voice dark and absolute. “You will put on the clothes I had placed in the dressing room. And then you will come downstairs to the dining room and sit at my right hand.”

He leaned in, his lips hovering a hair’s breadth from mine, his hot breath fanning across my wet tongue.

“Refuse me again... and I won’t bother waiting for tonight. I’ll strip this sweater off you, pin you to this bed, and take you until you forget your own name.”

He released my wrists and stood up smoothly, adjusting his shirt cuffs as if he hadn’t just pinned me to the mattress and set my whole body ablaze. He picked up his watch, clipped it back onto his wrist, and looked down at my trembling, gasping form one last time.

“Ten minutes, Elena.”

Chapter 6: The Don Demands Submission

Ten minutes felt like ten seconds.

My skin was still burning where his hands had been, a throbbing heat lingering between my thighs that made my knees wobble as I stepped into the dressing room.

Laid out on the velvet bench was a single outfit. No underwear. Just a midnight-blue silk slip dress with a cowl neck and a slit that ran all the way up the left thigh. Beside it sat a pair of strap-around black stilettos and a small velvet box.

Inside the box was a heavy, platinum choker necklace, cold to the touch.

A leash.

I threw the shower on scorching hot, scrubbing at my skin until it turned raw, trying to wash away his scent, his touch, the memory of his heavy length pressed against me. But every time I closed my eyes, I felt his thumb slipping into my mouth. I felt how wet I had gotten just from him pinning my wrists to the headboard.

I dressed shakingly. The silk felt like air against my bare skin, clinging to every curve. The dress left my back completely exposed down to the top of my buttocks, and without a bra, my hardened nipples poked sharply against the thin fabric.

I refused to put on the metal choker. I left it on the vanity, grabbed the edges of the doorway, and forced myself down the grand staircase.

Dante was waiting in the dining room.

He sat at the head of a massive mahogany table laid out with fresh fruit, pastries, and black coffee. Two armed guards stood silently by the arched doorway.

As my heels clicked against the marble, Dante looked up from his iPad. His cold gray eyes swept down my body, lingering on the way the blue silk draped over my unclad breasts, tracking down the high slit of my leg, before resting on my bare neck.

His jaw tightened. The air in the room instantly plunged below freezing.

“Where is the necklace, Elena?” Dante asked softly, his voice dropping into that dangerous, rumbling frequency.

“I’m not wearing a collar,” I said, holding my chin high despite the trembling in my hands. “You dragged me out of my life, but you won’t brand me.”

Dante didn’t yell. He simply set his iPad down on the table with a soft thud.

“Gino. Viktor. Out,” he growled.

The two guards bowed their heads instantly and vanished, pulling the heavy double doors shut behind them. The lock clicked.

Clack.

Dante stood up slowly. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, casting it over the back of his chair, and began rolling his shirt sleeves up his muscular forearms.

“I gave you a simple command,” Dante said, his dark footsteps echoing as he walked toward me. “And you came down to my table half-naked, defiance dripping off you, thinking you could test my patience.”

“It’s a collar, Dante!” I yelled, backing up until my heels hit the edge of the sideboard. “I am a person, not your property!”

“You became my property the moment your father signed those papers,” Dante rasped, stopping directly in front of me.

His hand shot out, capturing my chin in a grip of iron. He squeezed just enough to force my mouth open, tilting my head back. His eyes were pure silver fire, raw and unyielding.

“You think I’m going to wait weeks to tame you?” he growled, his gaze dropping to my heaving, unclad breasts moving under the thin silk. “You think you can stand in my house, dripping wet for me, pushing every one of my buttons, and expect me to leave you untouched?”

“Dante...” My breath hitched, a wave of hot, heavy moisture pooling instantly between my legs at his proximity.

He didn’t answer with words.

His free hand moved down, sliding up the high slit of my dress. His rough, warm palm brushed against my bare thigh, moving higher and higher until his long fingers touched the soaked, scorching heat between my legs.

I let out a sharp, breathless gasp, my head falling back against the wall.

He slid two fingers directly into my wet heat, pumping them deep inside me in one swift, ruthless thrust.

“Ah! Dante!” I cried out, my hands flying to his shoulders, my fingers digging desperately into his shirt.

“Look at you,” Dante growled in my ear, his fingers moving inside me with a steady, punishing rhythm that made my hips buck helplessly against his hand. “So tight. So dripping wet for the man you hate. You didn’t even put on panties because you knew what I was going to do to you down here.”

“No—I—” I couldn’t speak. The sensation was overwhelming, a coil of explosive pleasure snapping tight in my lower belly.

He pulled his fingers out with a wet slide, lifting them to his lips, making eye contact with me as he slowly licked my sweetness off his skin.

My jaw dropped. My body went completely liquid.

“You want to know when I’m going to take you, little bird?” Dante growled, unbuckling his heavy leather belt with one hand while keeping his eyes locked onto mine. “Right here. On this table. The moment you put that collar on and beg me for it.”

Chapter 7: Taming the Stubborn Little Bird

The metallic sound of his belt buckle undoing echoed like a gun shot through the silent, cavernous dining room.

My heart hammered against my ribs, so hard and fast I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. I stood pinned between the edge of the mahogany sideboard and Dante’s towering, muscular frame. The thin blue silk slip dress offered zero protection—it was cold against my bare flesh, contrasting violently with the scorching heat radiating off his body.

“Look at me, Elena,” Dante commanded, his voice a low, dark rumble that vibrated straight through my belly.

I raised my eyes, my breathing coming in shallow, ragged gasps. His cold gray gaze was dark, stripped of all patience, lit only by a fierce, possessive hunger. He didn’t look like a Capo or a syndicate ruler in that moment—he looked like a predator who had finally brought his prey to ground.

He reached into his suit pocket with his left hand and pulled out the platinum choker necklace. The cool metal glinted in the chandelier light.

“Put it on,” he murmured, holding it out between two thick fingers.

“Dante... please,” I whispered, my voice trembling. My hips were still shuddering from the lingering shockwaves of his fingers inside me. I was soaked, slick heat trailing down the inside of my bare thigh, making every nerve ending in my lower body throb with a needy, humiliating ache.

“I didn’t ask for a plea, little bird. I gave an order.” His voice was absolute, dropping an octave into pure, unadulterated dominance. “Put the collar on yourself, or I will pin you to this table, force it around your neck, and take you until you can’t stand.”

A wave of intense heat flushed from my chest straight down to my core. My hands were shaking so violently I could barely lift them, but I took the heavy platinum chain from his fingers. The metal was icy against my skin as I wrapped it around my throat, reaching behind my neck to fasten the clasp. The lock clicked shut with a sharp, final sound.

Clack.

The moment my hands fell, Dante leaned in. His long fingers wrapped directly around the front of the platinum band, pulling me forward until my body slammed against his.

“Good girl,” he growled into my ear, his hot breath sending a violent shiver down my spine. “Now you look like mine.”

Before I could draw another breath, he grabbed the neckline of the silk slip dress with both hands and yanked downward.

Rip.

The delicate silk tore straight down the center, exposing my bare breasts, my waist, and my dripping, unclad heat to the cool air of the room. I gasped, instinct taking over as I tried to cover my breasts with my hands, but Dante caught both of my wrists in one massive grip, dragging them high above my head and pinning them flat against the wall behind me.

“No more hiding,” Dante rasped, his gray eyes sweeping over my exposed body. His chest heaved as his gaze fixated on my hardened nipples and the slick sheen coating the top of my thighs. “You are completely uncovered for me.”

“Dante, I—”

He cut off my protest by crushing his mouth down on mine.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was an invasion. His lips were hard, hot, and demanding, forcing my mouth open to take his tongue deep inside. He tasted of rich espresso, dark bourbon, and pure control. I tried to pull back, but his grip on my wrists was iron, and his free hand moved down to cup the back of my thigh, hauling my left leg up and wrapping it firmly around his hip.

A soft, desperate moan escaped my throat directly into his mouth. The humiliating truth was that my body was traitorously, intensely alive under his touch. Every point of contact felt like a direct electrical charge.

Dante broke the kiss, his mouth trailing down my jawline, dragging his lips over my exposed throat, right over the tight platinum choker. He bit down gently on the soft skin where my neck met my shoulder, making my hips jerk uncontrollably against him.

“You feel that?” Dante growled into my skin, his hand sliding up the back of my raised thigh, his palm cupping my bare butt cheek, squeezing firmly as he pressed his hips forward. “Feel how hard you have me?”

Through the thin fabric of his trousers, the thick, unyielding length of his cock pressed directly against my wet slit. The friction was agonizingly good. My toes curled, slick moisture pooling heavily where our bodies met.

“You’re destroying me,” I sobbed softly, my head falling back against the wall, my chest heaving as his mouth moved down to trap one of my hardened nipples between his teeth, sucking firmly until a sharp bolt of pleasure shot straight to my womb.

“I’m claiming you,” Dante corrected, lifting his head. His eyes were wild, silver fire burning through the dark.

In one swift, effortless motion, he lifted me entirely off the ground and slammed me down onto the edge of the heavy mahogany dining table. Silverware clattered, and a crystal glass tipped over, shattering on the hardwood floor, but neither of us cared.

He stepped between my thighs, spreading my legs wide open.

My breath caught in my chest. I was completely bare to his gaze, my legs pinned open, my dark core exposed and glistening under the bright chandelier. Dante reached down, unzipping his trousers, and freed his massive, throbbing length. He was huge—thick, dark, and heavy, vein-ridged and slick with pre-cum at the tip.

My eyes widened in a mixture of terror and overwhelming desire. “Dante... wait...”

“No more waiting,” he growled.

He gripped my hips with both hands, his large fingers digging into my soft skin, marking me. He aligned his broad head with my soaking entrance. He didn’t ease in slowly. He pushed his hips forward, burying himself halfway inside me in one long, relentless thrust.

“Ahhh! Dante!” I screamed, my hands flying to his shoulders, my fingernails digging straight into the fabric of his shirt.

The sensation was overwhelming. I was stretched so impossibly full, his thick head hitting deep inside my tight, hot passage. The tightness made his jaw clench, a dark, guttural growl ripping from his chest as he froze, his hips pinned tight against mine.

“Fuck, Elena,” Dante rasped, his gray eyes blown wide, black pupils swallowing the iris whole. “You’re so tight... so wet...”

“It hurts—it’s too much,” I gasped, tears prickling my eyes as my walls clamped down desperately around his invasion.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice dark and dripping with authority.

I looked up, meeting his fierce gaze through my blurred vision. He reached out, his thumb catching a falling tear on my cheek before sliding down to press into my open, panting mouth.

“Breathe, little bird,” Dante whispered, leaning down to press his forehead against mine, his hot breath fanning across my face. “Relax for me. Let me take you.”

I swallowed, his thumb resting over my tongue, and forced myself to take a deep breath. Slowly, the initial stretch turned into a deep, heavy aching heat. My body instinctively yielded to his size, my inner muscles pulsing around his thick shaft, taking him deeper.

Dante felt the shift. A cruel, triumphant smirk touched his lips.

He pulled back almost completely, drawing his head to the very edge of my wet lips, before slamming all the way back in, burying himself to the hilt.

“Ah!” I gasped around his thumb, my back arching completely off the mahogany table.

He began to move.

The rhythm was brutal, deliberate, and utterly possessive. Slap. Slap. Slap. The wet, heavy sound of his hips crashing against my bare thighs echoed through the high-ceilinged room. Every thrust drove him deeper into my core, hitting a sensitive, swollen spot high inside me that made my vision spot with white heat.

“Dante... oh god... Dante!” I cried out, abandoning all pride as my hips began to meet his thrusts, mindlessly chasing the unbearable friction.

“That’s it,” Dante growled, his hands shifting to my waist, lifting my hips higher to angle me deeper into his relentless drive. “Take all of it. Show me how much you belong to me.”

He picked up the pace, his thrusts turning into a pounding, furious blur. His chest slammed against my bare breasts with every stroke, his skin burning hot against mine. Slick moisture dripped down my thighs, coating his groin and ...