Chapter 7: Dante

I processed his words with a frown and stared at him as he stood up, elegantly. His button up shirt had the sleeves rolled up, exposing an expanse of his arms. The glimmer of a black tattoo on his skin that remained wholly hidden under the rest of the sleeve caught my attention for a short second.

Somehow just that sent me spiralling internally.

My damned brain was misbehaving again, conjuring up images I didn't want to associate with the man I hated the most.

It wasn't like it was new. I did have a thing for men with tattoos. Funny how my own kinks always come back to haunt me.

Clearing my throat, I murmured something in assent, waiting for him to leave.

Only, he didn't leave.

He moved towards me, prowling like a panther on the hunt. Then he stopped right beside my chair.

I glanced at him, not moving my gaze from his body.

I wasn't about to show any hints of fear to this man.

“Not even a word of refusal from you, Dante.” He sounded curious, almost amused as he leaned down, his nose practically pressed against my hair. “I wonder what's gotten into you this morning.”

“Maybe I'm just cutting my losses,” I managed to get out. “It's your fault if you think that means I'm giving in to you.”

“Hmm.”

He didn't say anything more, just stood there for what was realistically only less than a minute but felt more like thirty.

Then he straightened and sighed heavily, before walking out of the dining hall. Over his shoulder he left a parting word.

“Work calls. Be ready in an hour, Dante. I don't like to be kept waiting.”

His orders were well received. As soon as I had finished my meal I jumped straight into the bathroom. The shower was just as large and luxurious as it had been the day before. Even the damn taps were gold, and the warm water was endless.

Scoffing to myself as I exited the bathroom, I thought bitterly that being in here was truly the best and worst of situations. Just fattening me up like a damn pig ready for slaughter. That was what Nero Vecchio was doing, and I knew it.

Moving over to the wardrobe, where none of the clothes were mine to begin with, I picked out a black knit turtleneck shirt and black slacks. I had no idea where we'd be going but I had a feeling there would be a fight. I glanced at the brand new holsters hanging on one side of the large wardrobe. Picking one up, I fitted it to my body and grabbed two of the guns that were neatly arranged there for me to pick out of.

He really didn't spare any expense.

Grumbling to myself, I grabbed one of the brand new coats and a pair of leather boots. They all fit like a glove.

And that was why I hated it the most.

By the time I left the bedroom, I was over ten minutes early.

Moving down to the living room swiftly I saw several men moving two large boxes into a black truck right outside. My brows rose slightly and I regarded them through the large french windows for a while, watching as they all got into the truck and began to drive out.

“Ignore them,” Nero's voice came up behind me, way too close. I stiffened and immediately turned around, to find that my instincts had been correct. He was barely a feet apart from me, his lips curled up into a barely there smirk.

He had caught me this time.

I straightened and glared at him.

“You're too close Don Vecchio,” I warned him.

“I believe I asked you to call me Nero, Dante.” He chuckled again, his laughter piercing the tense atmosphere. “Are you really so afraid of me?”

Who the fuck did he think he was?

I boldly took a step forward, closing the distance between us. He didn't flinch, as I looked up at him.

“If I were afraid of you,” I said slowly. “I wouldn't have been so stupid as to work for you in the first place. I would have chosen death instead.”

His lips quirked up into a smirk that both infuriated and charmed me.

“Good.”

Then without another word he closed the gap between us.

Our lips met, and I could hardly breathe for a second as he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer.

I was dazed for a few fleeting moments. Everything happened so fast.

Then I came to my fucking senses as the sound of footsteps filled my ear.

What was I doing?

Roughly I exerted a little bit of force and pushed him away.

My cheeks burned and my lips felt equally numb and sensitive at the same time.

“Don,” the sound of a man made me turn. It was of course, Tony the brute once again.

He didn't even glance at me, only bowed to his Don Vecchio like a cowardly dog.

Nero didn't give any hints of what had just happened and simply waved his hand in a gesture.

“Start the car, Tony. We're going to be late.”

Then just like that, Nero walked away, with Tony following behind him. I watched them both exit the mansion through the foyer and I swallowed heavily.

Then a car horn broke through my daze once again.

I don't like to be kept waiting, he had said before.

Remembering that I had a job to do, I pushed away thoughts that wavered between anger and desire, and exited the mansion.

The car was waiting for me, and I got into the back seat, right next to Nero. He didn't even glance at me, didn't even say a word.

And that was the most infuriatingly anxiety-inducing thing.