LOGIN“IF YOU WERE A BOOK, I’D OPEN YOUR LEGS, LICK THE WORD FROM YOUR PAGES AND DRINK ALL YOUR INK”SOFIA.His hand slips free and I whine at the loss, but then he’s dropping to his knees behind me. The movement is smooth, unhurried, like he has all the time in the world even though we both know we don’t. His scarred shoulders brush the backs of my thighs as he settles between my spread legs. Warm breath ghosts over my exposed pussy and I shudder so hard my knees nearly buckle.“Dante—” My voice is barely a whisper.“Shh. Let me worship you, baby. Been dreaming about this taste for seven years.”His hands grip my ass, spreading me wide, and then his mouth is on me.The first slow, broad lick from my entrance to my clit rips a choked cry from my throat. I bite down on my forearm to muffle it, but the sensation is too much—hot, wet, perfect. He groans against me like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted, the vibration shooting straight through me. He doesn’t rush. He savors. Long, deliberate
“LET MY TONGUE EXPLAIN HOW BADLY I CRAVE YOU.”SOFIA.The kiss breaks and we’re both breathing hard. His hands are still on my waist, mine are still tangled in his hair. We should stop. I know we should stop. But when he says “Bend over the table, baby,” in that rough, commanding voice, I find myself obeying before my brain can catch up.My palms slap against the wooden surface of the small table in the back room. The arena noise is a dull roar through the thin door—shouts, the low thump of bass, the occasional burst of laughter—but it feels too close. My pulse hammers in my throat. Anyone could walk in. Anyone could hear. And yet my body is already leaning forward, elbows bracing, hips tilting back toward him like it’s been waiting seven long years for this exact moment.“Dante,” I whisper, voice cracking. “You’re hurt. Your ribs… your shoulder from the fight. We can’t do this. Not here. Not like this.”His chest presses against my back, bare and still warm from the shower, the heat
“EVEN IF YOU ARE FIRE, I'M READY TO DROWN IN YOUR FLAMES.”SOFIA.I'm walking toward the back rooms. The area where the fighters go after their matches. I shouldn't be back here. Shouldn't be seeking him out.But I need to see him. Need to know he's okay.The hallway is dimmer, quieter. I can hear water running. Voices in the distance.There's a door slightly ajar at the end of the hall. Light spilling out.I move closer, staying in the shadows.And then I see him.Dante is at a sink, washing blood off his hands. His hair is wet—he must have showered. Water droplets are running down his bare back.His scarred back.With FARFALLA tattooed down his spine in elegant script.My name. My nickname. Permanently etched into his skin.I swallow hard, my eyes tracing the letters. Tracing the scars around them. Evidence of everything he survived. Everything he endured.For me.He's drying off now, his movements mechanical. Efficient.Then I see it.The syringe.He picks it up from the counter, e
“DO MISSED ME LIKE I MISSED YOU?”SOFIA.I blink. "What? No, I can't—""Why not?""I don't really like violence that much." The admission comes out quieter than I intended."Oh, sister-in-law, you're so sweet!" Luca laughs. "But you know, no one's at home. Not Marco, not Dante. Nico and I are going to stay out pretty late. You'd be here all alone." He leans in conspiratorially. "Wouldn't it be better for your safety to come with us? And Isabella's with the nanny, so everything would be alright. Come on. Live a little.""Luca—""Please?" He puts on an exaggerated puppy-dog expression. "I promise I'll make sure nothing happens to you. And if you hate it, we can leave immediately. Scout's honor.""Were you ever a scout?""Absolutely not. But the sentiment stands.""Fine." The word is out before I can stop it. "But if I want to leave, we leave.""Deal!" Luca pumps his fist. "You won't regret this, I promise. Well, you might. But it'll be an adventure either way!"I grab a jacket—a black l
“DO YOU LIKE-LIKE HIM?”Sofia's POVI haven't seen Dante all day.Which should be a good thing. I'm the one who's been trying to stay away, trying to maintain distance, trying to pretend that what happened in the warehouse didn't change everything.But instead of relief, I feel uneasy.Where is he? What's he doing? Is he okay?I hate that I care. Hate that I'm looking for him in every room I enter. Hate that his absence feels like a physical ache.The evening passes slowly. I supervise the staff as they prepare dinner, even though my appetite is nonexistent. I eat with Isabella, listening to her chatter about her day while my mind is elsewhere.After dinner, I take her upstairs for her bath and bedtime routine. She's extra clingy tonight, wanting me to stay and sing to her.So I do. I sit on the edge of her bed and sing the lullabies my mother used to sing to me. The Italian ones about stars and dreams and faraway places.Isabella's eyes grow heavy, her small hand wrapped around my fi
“ A BURNT CHILD LOVES THE FIRE.”(FLASH BACK–SEVEN YEARS AGO)DANTE"Fuck you." I spit at his feet. "I'll kill you for this. Both of you. I swear to God, I'll make you suffer for—"My father pulls something from his jacket.A photograph.Of Sofia.Walking to class. Laughing with a friend. Completely unaware she's being watched.My blood turns to ice."Six men," my father says calmly. "Posted in her neighborhood. Watching her. Waiting for my signal.""No." The word comes out broken."If you leave this place before you're ready—before you've become what we need you to be—I make one phone call. And she dies." He tucks the photo back in his jacket. "It'll be quick. Painless. She won't even know it's coming. And it'll be all because of your disobedience."I'm going to kill him. I'm going to rip his throat out with my bare hands."What do you even see in her?" My mother's voice is disgusted.My father opens his gutter of a mouth and supports her "She's common. Unsuitable. Once you're ready,
“LIFE IS JUST BETTER WITH MY GIRLS.”DANTE.We all file into the office. Isabella stays outside, swinging her legs and looking remarkably unconcerned for someone who's in trouble."Isabella beat up Tommy Morrison," Mrs. Henderson says, pulling out an incident report. "Kicked him in the shin and the
“MY UNCLE IS DEFINITELY MUCH COOLER THAN MY DAD”DANTE.I'm in the study reviewing reports from Nico when there's a soft knock on the door."Come in."The door opens slowly and Isabella peeks her head in, looking uncertain."Oh. Sorry. I thought this was Papa's office." She starts to back out."It's
“WHAT DOESN’T KILL ME MIGHT MAKE ME KILL YOU.”DANTEOur eyes meet in the mirror. For a moment, neither of us looks away.Then she quickly breaks the connection, focusing back on my wound."How did this happen?" she asks quietly."Ambush. On the way to a meeting."Her hands still. "Someone tried to
“YOU HIT ME, WE HIT YOU.”DANTE. Luca swerves hard as bullets pepper the side of our car.I'm already moving, pulling my gun from the shoulder holster. "How many?""At least four vehicles. Maybe more." Luca's voice is calm despite the chaos. "They boxed us in."This is a setup. An ambush. Someone







