Chapter 2: A Dangerous Proposal.

Dante's POV.

"Yeah… gulp it, take every damn inch," I growled, my voice low and sharp, my hand gripping the back of her head as I pushed deeper. Her lips stretched around me, muffled gasps mixing with the obscene sound of wetness. She whimpered when I tightened my fingers in her hair, and my other hand cracked against her ass, hard enough to make her jolt.

I liked the way they jolted.

The way their tears mixed with spit.

The way I could feel control thrum in my veins like a drug.

Women, to me, were tools. Flesh to warm my bed. Lips to drain my frustration. Hips to fuck until they couldn't stand straight. Feed them, touch them, toss them. Simple. Predictable.

I leaned back, letting her work, my mind half here, half somewhere else. My thoughts drifted to numbers, territory, the last shipment from the port...

Then, slicing through the air like a blade, I heard it.

“Dante Moretti!”

A woman’s voice. Strong. Unflinching. Not a whimper, not a plea, this one was a challenge.

I froze, still buried in the woman’s throat.

Another call. “Long time no see.”

Slowly, I pulled her off me, watching her gasp for air, mascara bleeding down her cheeks. I zipped up, buckled my belt, and flicked my fingers. "Go." She scurried away without looking back.

My eyes scanned the shadows beyond the flickering light of the hall.

The sound of heels echoed, a confident rhythm, not the click-clack of someone seeking attention, but the steady, deliberate approach of someone who already had it.

The kind of walk that said she could gut you and still keep her lipstick perfect.

Then I saw her.

She stepped into the dim light, and my gaze took its time, long legs wrapped in leather, hips swaying like sin itself, a black corset cinched so tight it framed her curves like a weapon. A slit in her skirt revealed a holster strapped high on her thigh, the faint glint of steel peeking out. Her jacket clung to her shoulders like it was made for her alone.

But it wasn’t the outfit that made my pulse slow in that dangerous way.

It was her eyes.

Fire. Defiance. And the kind of rage that’s too sharp to put out...it only burns hotter.

“Bianca Caruso,” I hissed her name like a curse, though my lips curled into something dangerously close to a smirk.

I turned, pulled a cigarette from my case, lit it, and handed it to her.

She took it without breaking eye contact, stepped closer, and blew the smoke straight into my face before grinding it out under her heel.

Ballsy.

I liked that.

“You’re not a minor anymore, huh?” I drawled. “Free to come out and play?”

She spat to the side. “You should be fucking ashamed of yourself”

I chuckled low. “The only shame I’ve ever known is not being able to make a woman scream in my bed.”

Her lips curled into something between disgust and amusement. “I’m here for one thing, Dante. Why are you stooping so low to take treasures women built themselves?”

Ah. There it was...the SHE-Mafia sting. Words meant to slice into a man’s ego. I let mine stay hidden, unreadable.

I stepped closer, circling her slowly. “Do better than your mother.”

Her jaw tightened. “Leave the dead out of this.”

“I’m not surprised your mother took my father to the grave with her,” I murmured near her ear. “If I were as foolish as him, I’d probably fall for you too.”

She stepped into my space, eyes sharp. “Don’t you dare sexualise me. A man who can’t beat lust should be dropped in my city with the rest of the weak men because that’s exactly what you are.”

The corners of my mouth twitched. She didn’t know it, but she’d just made my blood heat, not with anger, but something darker.

“You left your female guards outside?” I teased. “Didn’t bring them to entertain my men?”

“I’m no weak fellow. I came alone.”

That… actually impressed me.

I took another drag, exhaled smoke into her face, then cupped her jaw. “You act like this because you’ve never had a real man’s touch.”

Her voice was steady. “Even if I wanted one...it wouldn’t be from you, Dante you stink of used condom”

I let my grin sharpen. “You stopped me mid-orgasm. I’ll forgive you… if you’ve got something worth saying.”

“Leave my city alone,” she said firmly. “After my mother’s death, the rivalry ended. I’m not interested in furthering any mafia bullshit.”

I laughed loud enough for it to echo. “Bold of you to think I give a fuck whether you’re interested. You think you can just walk in here, demand I back off, and leave? Unless…” My eyes dragged down her frame, slow. “…you’re offering your body as collateral?”

Her hand twitched toward her knife.

“What do you want?” she asked through gritted teeth.

I moved behind her, brushing her hair aside so my lips could touch the bare skin of her back. “I want you. Your family. Your bloodline.”

The blade flashed in her hand, but I caught her wrist easily. “Not so fast, cupcake... I'm not done.. Your sister? I would free her." I grinned.

Her breath was sharp. “If you even think of touching my sister...” She leaned closer, voice venom..“I’ll cut your dick off piece by piece, pedophile.”

I laughed. She was breathing harder now, her rage palpable. She spat accusations, telling me women were losing their babies, everything they built stolen.

“Do you have no mother?” she snapped.

I inhaled smoke, letting the anger cool in my veins. “I’m not your problem.”

“Then who?”

“Mordecai the Fifth.”

Her laugh was bitter. “My mother killed Mordecai years ago.”

“No,” I said, grinning. “She killed Mordecai the Third. There will always be another.”

Her eyes widened when I told her, the treasures stolen from her city were a tribute to Mordecai. A debt. A contract.

I handed her the dusty book. She flipped through it, saw the truth. A third of her city’s wealth is owed forever… or face annihilation.

“Why hasn’t it ended?” she whispered.

“I cleared half the debt… waiting for the final successor. That’s you.”

“And how does it end?”

“Your women need to seduce the Mordecai men. Marry them. Own them.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Your bloodline dies. Except your sister.”

She lunged for me, knife at my throat. “If you touch her, I’ll cut you apart piece by piece.”

I laughed, catching her waist. “There’s another way.”

She glared. “What?”

“Marry me.”

Her spit hit the floor between us. “Seriously, Dante you are nuts. The audacity to think I would be your sexual pawn is alarming, be serious for once.”

“One year,” I said softly. “One year and we’ll take Mordecai down together. Then we walk away.”

“You disgust me,” she whispered.

“Wait until you arch your back for me.”

She hissed, “I’d rather die.”

She turned sharply, but before she could respond, my men walked in.

“Boss..she killed four of ours.”

I glanced at her, lips curling in approval. “Throw their bodies out. Let their ancestors know a woman sent them early.”

I held my hand out for a shake. She ignored it, eyes blazing.

“I’ll be back in two days,” she said coldly. “With a better proposal. And erase every filthy thought of having me in your bed.”

I smirked. “Be my guest, Bianca.”

She turned, heels striking like gunshots, and walked out.

And I knew, without a doubt, this wasn’t the last time I’d hear those heels.