Chapter Six – Selena

I was suffocating.

Days blurred together inside Dante’s fortress, every hour a reminder of the cage I couldn’t escape. The walls pressed closer with each sunrise, each night when I felt his shadow move beside me in the dark.

But suffocation could breed either despair—or defiance. And I was done suffocating.

That night, at dinner, I made my move.

The long table stretched between us, covered in silver and crystal, like a stage set for war. He sat at the head, king of his empire, while I sat to his right—the queen he had stolen, not crowned.

I lifted my glass, letting the red wine stain my lips. “Tell me something, husband,” I said, my voice sweet enough to poison. “Do all your women live in cages, or am I special?”

The room froze. Guards at the wall stiffened. Even the servers pretended to busy themselves with plates, but their ears were sharp.

Dante’s gaze flicked to me, dark and unreadable. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he cut his steak with surgical precision, every movement a reminder of how dangerous those hands could be.

Finally, he looked up. “Special,” he said simply.

I smiled, though my chest pounded. “So, I’m the only one you’ve kidnapped and forced into marriage? How flattering.”

Gasps rippled around the room, but I didn’t look at anyone else. My eyes stayed on him, daring him.

Dante leaned back in his chair, studying me with that infuriating calm. “Careful, Selena. You’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I want to burn.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, reckless, raw. The kind of truth that made my throat ache.

Silence thickened, heavy and dangerous. Then, to my shock, he smiled. Not the polite, charming smile he wore like armor, but something darker.

“Good,” he murmured. “Burn for me.”

The room exhaled as if released from a spell. The guards shifted, the servers scurried away, but I stayed frozen under his gaze. My pulse was wild, my skin hot, my breath uneven.

I’d wanted to provoke him. To prove I wasn’t afraid.

But instead, I felt like I’d just stepped into quicksand.

Because the fire between us wasn’t just his. It was mine too.

Dante POV

She wanted to play with fire.

And she thought she could win.

I couldn’t get her words out of my head as I walked the halls after dinner. Maybe I want to burn. The way she said it—chin lifted, lips curved in defiance, eyes blazing—wasn’t just rebellion. It was an invitation.

Selena Cruz was dangerous. Not because she hated me. I knew how to handle hate. I could crush it. Bend it. Turn it into loyalty.

No—she was dangerous because she tempted me to give her everything she wasn’t ready to hold.

I returned to my study, poured myself a glass of scotch, and replayed the scene in my mind. The guards had been rattled by her outburst. The staff unsettled. But me? I’d been…thrilled.

No one talked to me like that. No one dared. Except her.

I should have punished her. Made an example of her. That would have been the smart move.

But instead, I’d smiled. Because I wanted her fury. I wanted her fire.

I wanted to see how far she’d go.

The door opened without a knock. Matteo, my right hand, stepped inside. He’d been with me since we were boys, before power was ours, before the world bent its knee.

“You’re slipping,” he said bluntly.

I raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“Your wife. She mocks you at the table. In front of the men. They’ll talk.”

I sipped my drink slowly. “Let them.”

His jaw tightened. “Dante—”

I cut him off with a look sharp enough to slice. “She’s mine. And no one touches what’s mine.”

Matteo hesitated, then nodded. But I saw the unease in his eyes.

Good. Let him worry. Let the whole house wonder how much power this woman held over me. It only made the game sweeter.

Because soon, very soon, they would see. Selena wouldn’t just be my wife in name. She’d be my queen. My match. My downfall, perhaps. But mine all the same.

And when she finally burned, she’d burn only for me.