CHAPTER 3

The world outside Dante’s office was a mixture of choas mixed with gyrating men moving around. Rafe followed Dante through the clubhouse, keeping a careful distance that was professional behind.

Every member they passed… from the pool tables to the garage boys, straightened, to salute their boss their eyes snapping and glancing at Rafe with heightened curiosity. Being next to Dante wasn’t just a promotion, it was a visible statement of trust, and of danger.

Their first stop was not a meeting, but a private garage. Inside, three men were already waiting, standing in front of a massive black truck. One of the men, a giant with a scarred brow, nodded curtly to Dante.

“Good morning Boss.”

“Status,” Dante said, his voice immediately shifting to the dangerous Boss persona.

“Clean run, Boss. Everything’s cleared and ready. The Weights too are certified,” the scarred man reported.

Rafe didn't have a briefcase, nor a notepad to take down everything,  So just he watched silently, his eyes recording everything… the truck's license plate number,the men's faces, and the quiet, disciplined way they moved. This was

Dante walked to the back of the truck, pulling the large sliding door open. Rafe took a step closer, as curiosity sets in without caution.

Inside, crates were stacked high, wrapped securely in dark plastic bags, It was the movement of the illegal currency, disguised as cargos, The scent of fresh diesel and oiled metal mixed with the stale smoke from the club.

Dante didn’t look at the cargos for long as he turned his gaze to Rafe.

“You see this?”

“I do, Boss. It matches the off-ledger accounts I saw. The raw data for the cycle.”

Rafe kept his voice perfectly neutral showcasing his professional competence.

Dante smiled, a thin, almost predatory expression. “You’re not surprised by the scale.”

“Surprise is unprofessional for our kind of business sir,” Rafe stated.

“Good answer.” Dante turned back to the man with the scarred brow and with a gentle tap he said, “Proceed. I want this gone by sunset.”

They left the garage, now heading back to the main floor, walking toward a separate room.

“Next meeting,” Dante said, “is about an unfinished business. You listen, you take note, but you don’t speak.”

The room was smaller and soundproofed, it contained a single rectangular table. Two men were already seated across from each other, both sweating despite the cool temperature. They didn’t look like club members.

The meeting was brutal one, It wasn't just about contracts, it was about fear and ownership.

Dante was more of a judge than a negotiator, even though his voice remained calm, his statements cut deeper than a sword.

When one of the men started arguing, Dante slammed his hand flat on the table. and the sharp echoed in the small room.

“The deal is done and no stepping back” Dante’s voice came as the final seal.  “I own the property fully, and now you’re to step away and forget you ever knew my name. Failure to do so will cost you more than your business.”

The men nodding frantically fear etched in their faces.

While Rafe watched the transaction,silently with every details imprinted in his mind. As this can stand as a crucial evidence against the Devils.”

When the men finally scrambled out, Dante settled back, running a slow hand over his face. He seemed tired, his authority briefly dimmed by exhaustion.

He looked at Rafe, and the transition from Boss to the man Rafe had felt ache for was so fast.

“Well, Santos,” Dante murmured. “I guess it was a long day for you. Did you find anything surprising in all of today’s activities?”

“Only the smooth and effortless control of your authority,” Rafe replied, refusing to give Dante an opening into his emotional state. “It was really effective and amusing how you can command without raising a voice.”

Dante leaned forward, folding his hands. “And the lack of conscience? Doesn’t that bother you?”

This was the test Rafe had been waiting for. He knew his answer had to cement his cover now else he’d be caught.

“Conscience is a luxury for the wealthy, Boss,” Rafe said, meeting Dante’s gaze. “And for the rest of us, it’s a liability. As in the business world, it’s not needed.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed, not with suspicion, but with a sharp, confirming intensity.

“You’re cold, Rafe Santos,” Dante whispered, using his first name again, He rose and walked toward the small drinks cabinet across the room. “I like that in a man.”

Rafe felt that tightening again in his chest. The mission was working his cover was solidifying. But the personal acknowledgment felt like a spike of pure adrenaline, and it has immediately translated into an unwelcome heat.

Dante poured the amber liquid into a tumbler, then turned, holding the glass out.

“Have a drink, Rafe. You passed the test. I’m proud.”

It was a small, social gesture, an invitation into Dante's inner circle that only few men has ever received. This right here was an intimacy disguised as a reward. And it was a direct compromise of his cover because Rafe never drank on a mission.

Dante took a slow sip from his own glass, carefully watching Rafe.

“Or,” Dante’s voice dipped, heavy with suggestion, “you don’t drink? Is this a luxury also meant only for the rich?”

“No boss.” Rafe said sharply. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. He  reached out for the glass, but Dante shifted, deliberately pulling his hand back just an inch.and Rafe’s fingers grasped only air.

“You’re too fast, Santos,” Dante murmured, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “Slow down.”

Dante set his own glass down on the table, then moved until he was standing directly in front of Rafe, pinning him between the table, he still held the tumbler meant for Rafe in his hand.

The touch came in as an aggressive and a possessive claim.

Dante’s left hand shot out, clamping hard onto Rafe’s left hip. His thumb slide down slowly from his check and stopped just below the waistband of Rafe’s tailored trousers, grinding into the taut muscle of his groin. The pressure was intense, demanding, forcing Rafe’s legs to remain still.

Rafe's breath hitched, he didn’t see that coming. he kept his eyes locked on Dante's, refusing to break the contact, relying fully on his training to succumb any reaction. But the heat of Dante's palm was seared through the wool of his clothes, involuntary tightening of Rafe's core and it became unbearable for him.

Dante leaned in, his face close enough that the scent of whiskey and expensive cologne consumed Rafe’s senses.

“I need to know what you’re made of,” Dante said, the words vibrating against Rafe’s ear. “I  want to be sure you won’t break under any pressure.”

Dante’s other hand moved with a deliberate slowness, resting directly on the front of Rafe's trousers. His fingers settled over the hard, undeniable evidence of Rafe’s arousal, his thumb beginning a slow, possessive caress of Rafe's dick, gentle teasing it.

Rafe slammed his lips together,fighting the desperate, shameful urge to let out a sound.

Every attempt he made in his trained body made it more difficult for him to keep steady. intimacy of Dante's touches had held him captive.

Dante’s eyes were darker and unreadable, as he continued. he didn't need a verbal answer from Rafe… not yet. Because the betraying heat and tension radiating from his body under his hand were enough.

He pressed his own body against Rafe's. The contact was agonizing for Rafe as a low raw moan choked out from him. “Ahh”

A sound of surrender and pleasure… tore from Rafe’s chest. It was the absolute, total failure of his control.

Dante's lips curved, that slow, predatory smile returning, satisfied as he felt the tremor that ran through Rafe's body, the proof he needed. He immediately withdrew both hands, leaving Rafe vibrating and clutching unto the table for stability.

He placed the tumbler of whiskey into Rafe's now shaking hand.

“Welcome to the inner circle, Rafe,” Dante said, his voice back to his bossy self. “Don’t make me regret making you comfortable.”

Rafe stared down at the amber liquid, his hand unsteady. He couldn't trust himself to speak or even move.

Dante stepped back, allowing him to regain his composure. “Get some rest, Rafe, we’ll ride tomorrow.”

Rafe nodded,and bowed slightly, leaving the office with the untouched whiskey still shaking in his hand.