Chapter 8: Red Veil Desire (18+).

Dante's POV

I opened her door, expecting her to be ready, but froze the moment I saw her. Bianca stood in front of the mirror, her servant fussing over her, adjusting her hair and the folds of a deep red gown that clung to her curves like it had been molded to her body. The feather mask hiding part of her face only made her more dangerous. Every inch of her screamed power and elegance...deadly, intoxicating, and impossible to ignore. My pulse picked up, and I immediately snapped back to reality, signaling the maid to leave.

She turned sharply, her eyes catching mine in the mirror. “Don’t waste your time, Dante. I’m not changing my mind about going to that party,” she said, her voice a whip that cut straight to the point.

I leaned against the doorframe, trying to appear nonchalant. “I’m not here to talk you out of it,” I said, letting my gaze roam over her, the way the red gown hugged her waist, the subtle shimmer of the fabric across her chest. “But you need to be careful. Mordecai isn’t a man to joke with.”

She chuckled softly, the sound teasing, daring. “And why is that any of your concern?”

“Because any mistake you make,” I said slowly, deliberately, letting each word land, “could blow our cover… our entire plan.”

She tilted her head, amused, not intimidated. “Relax, Dante. I’m not going there just to point a sword at Mordecai. I want to see the man behind the mask, understand the game I would be playing for a year. I want to see what’s really going on.”

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. “Take heed, Bianca,” I warned, my tone low and dangerous, “because you might just end up chosen for his birthday night… as his whore.”

Her brows shot up, and she stepped closer, eyes flashing. “Why would you even say that?”

I nodded toward the mirror, letting my gaze linger on her reflection. “Look at yourself,” I said. “Do you think you’re walking in there unnoticed?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she inched closer, the heat radiating off her undeniable. Our eyes locked, the space between us charged. Then she whispered, almost breathless, “I know you want me.”

I jerked my gaze away, refusing to let her read my thoughts. “Take your time,” I said, turning my back. “Get dressed.”

Her voice followed me, husky, playful. “I want you too.”

I froze, then turned slowly, letting my eyes devour her, letting her see the effect she had on me. I walked up, gripping her hands firmly, and asked, low and dangerous, “What exactly are you trying to do, Bianca?”

She pulled her hands back, frustration mixing with desire. “I’m not trying to do anything!” she snapped, but there was heat in her tone, a tremor I didn’t miss.

She was leaving, her hips swaying with purpose, when I closed the distance between us in one step. The moment I kissed her, the world narrowed to her lips, her scent, the electric heat of her body pressed against mine. She responded immediately, hands trailing over my chest, gripping, teasing, pulling me closer as if she wanted me as much as I wanted her. Her body giving out the message that she's been craving me. My touch...

I leaned against the wall, paused a little ...arms crossed, my eyes scanning her like she was a puzzle i couldn’t resist trying to solve. The air between the both of us was thick, charged with the kind of electricity that made your skin tingle.

I inhaled sharply as she closed the distance, her perfume hitting me...dark, intoxicating, with a hint of something wild, like danger wrapped in silk. “You’re reckless,” I murmured, my voice low, almost a growl.

“And you’re predictable,” she shot back, stepping closer so our breaths mingled. “But I like it.”

Her hand brushed my chest lightly, teasing the line of my armless shirt...I shivered...not from the cold, but from the boldness of her touch. She was so good at it.

Slowly, deliberately, I reached for her face, my fingers tracing her jaw, then sliding to her neck. She tilted her head into me, lips parted ever so slightly.

My heart pounded against my ribs as my lips hovered just inches from hers. Every second was a test, a battle of wills. She pressed closer, and finally, our lips met, again.

The first kiss was cautious, tasting, exploring. But this one? it deepened, more urgent. I could feel her hands sliding under my shirt, fingers teasing the edges of my nipples, tracing muscles that had never known gentleness like this. I groaned into her mouth, and she answered with a hiss of pleasure, biting softly at my lower lip.

Our bodies pressed together, heat radiating, hearts beating in sync. I cupped her face, tilting her head slightly to deepen the kiss, and she responded, wrapping her arms around my neck, pulling me impossibly close. Each brush of lips, each flick of her tongue teased me, drew me in further, and the world outside...the threats, the power struggles, the Mafia business...faded.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently, making me groan against her lips. I traced down her spine with slow, possessive touches, and she shivered into me, leaning into the feeling of being wanted, being challenged. Her hands wandered to my chest, gripping the fabric, feeling the strength beneath, and she whispered against my lips, "Do not quit.”

I laughed softly, a dark, breathless sound. “Not yet,” I replied, fingers gripping her waist, pulling her impossibly close, until she could feel the tension of my body, the hardness of my desire pressing against her. “I want you, Bianca.” I added, voice rough, low, full of hunger.

She smiled against me, lips brushing mine in teasing, tantalizing flicks. She pulled back slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes, and the fire in her gaze challenged me. “You’ll have to earn it,” she said, voice sultry, teasing, daring me.

I love a woman that uses her lines so well. I kissed her again, slower this time, lingering over every inch of her lips, her jaw, her neck. Hands and mouths moved in perfect sync, exploring, claiming, tasting but never crossing the line into more. The desire between us was volcanic, almost unbearable, but we both knew this first encounter wasn’t about finishing...it was about testing, tasting, and knowing our power.

We finally broke apart, gasping for air, foreheads resting against each other. I ran a hand down her cheek, smirking. “This… is only the beginning.”

She smiled wickedly, brushing her lips against mine one last time. “I like beginnings,” she whispered.

We stumbled toward the bed, lips locked, teeth brushing, tongues teasing, every brush of skin sending shocks of desire. “Dante…” she moaned against my lips. “Now.”

I groaned, pushing her back onto the mattress, my hands exploring her body while our mouths never parted. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently, coaxing me deeper. The sound of her breath, the heat radiating from her skin, the scent of her perfume..it was all-consuming.

“Do you want me?” I whispered, my lips tracing the column of her neck.

She arched, pressing herself against me. “Yes… I want you.”

Every touch, every sigh, every whisper was a battle of control, a teasing game. And just as we were reaching a rhythm, a knock came at the door. Once. Twice.

I growled, my teeth grinding. “Get out!” I shouted. But the guard’s voice came from the threshold. “Sir… it’s B.”

My body stiffened instantly. Bianca’s head lifted, her eyes questioning. I held her shoulders firmly. “Nothing for you. Stay here. Do not leave until I return.”

She frowned, uncertainty flashing across her face. “I can’t wait. In two hours, I have to leave for the party.”

“If I don’t get back before then,” I said, voice sharp, “my guard will walk you out through the back exit. Do not test me.”

She nodded, slightly trembling, and I left, locking the door behind me.

The moment I stepped outside, I spotted Betty. She was a vision, mischievous as always, a perfect storm of sass and allure. She reached for me, and I held her hand, dragging her along without breaking stride.

She yanked her hand free, laughing. “Why are you dragging me like that?”

I smirked, masking the tension coiling inside me. “Just pulling your legs. Nothing more.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If you missed me…”

I turned away, cold, detached. “The Mafia doesn’t miss anyone.”

She hissed, a teasing growl. “That’s exactly why I fell for you.” And before I could respond, she kissed me.

I pulled away, frowning. “Why are you here?”

“Did you forget it’s my father’s birthday?” she said, playful yet dangerous. “I have to be there.”

I scratched my head, pretending ignorance. “I wasn’t aware…”

Her lips curved into a victorious smile. “I told my dad about us. He knows we’ll be married soon.”

I paused, digesting this, then let her hug me, masking my surprise. “Go get dressed,” she said, eyes glinting.

I told her to wait, then stepped inside, calling my guard. “Has Bianca left?”

“Yes, sir. She used the other entrance,” came the reply.

I nodded, letting the weight of the tension settle on me, taking a slow sip of my favorite alcohol...Château Margaux 2015...trying to calm the sudden storm in my mind.

Then Betty approached, taking the cup from me. “Enough. Don’t panic. My dad won’t be mad.”

I exhaled, tension knotting my chest. This wasn’t panic. This was a careful calculation. She didn’t know, and I couldn’t let her.

Her hands caressed my body, slow, teasing. I gripped her wrists. “Not in the mood,” I murmured, but her fingers were persistent, driving a fire I had to suppress.

I held her hands firmly. “Chill.”

A maid arrived with my clothes. I dressed quickly, my custom-tailored black mafia suit hugging my shoulders perfectly, the silk tie knotted flawlessly, shoes polished to a mirror shine. Every detail screamed control.

I turned to Betty, the tension between us thick enough to cut. “Let’s go,” I said, keys in hand. She smiled, innocently yet knowingly, and we walked to the car, the night stars glinting off the polished black vehicle.

I kept my eyes forward, but my mind replayed Bianca...the heat of her touch, her scent, the curve of her body pressed against mine. And though Betty’s hands tried to seduce me, all I could think was Bianca, the fire that consumed me, the desire that burned silently but intensely.