Dante’s POV
Walking back into the Marino mansion felt like stepping into a cage. The walls, the chandeliers, the gilded mirrors—they all radiated the same cold opulence that had suffocated me for years. But it wasn’t just the place; it was the man standing in the center of it all.
My father.
He barely glanced at me as I strode through the room, his dark gaze assessing me like I was an item on a checklist. His expression hardened when his eyes landed on my motorcycle boots, the worn leather jacket slung over my shoulder, and the tattoos peeking out from under the rolled-up sleeves of my shirt.
“Still dressing like a drifter, I see,” he said, his voice low and disdainful.
I shrugged, unbothered. “Still trying to dress like a king?”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he straightened his already perfect tie and gestured toward the two women standing a few feet away.
“Your stepmother and stepsister,” he said, his tone perfunctory.
I already knew who they were. Of course I did. I’d read the files. I’d seen their photos and combed through every detail my contacts had gathered. But the papers hadn’t prepared me for the reality.
Isabella, my stepmother, looked exactly like I expected—poised, elegant, and faintly nervous. She clung to my father’s side like a lifeline, her emerald-green eyes flicking between us like she was bracing for a fight.
And then there was her.
Valentina.
She stood a step behind her mother, her arms crossed and her hazel eyes narrowed. Her ash-blonde hair shimmered under the chandelier’s light, and the tight jeans she wore clung to her like a second skin. The black leather jacket draped over her shoulders was an obvious statement—defiance wrapped in dark rebellion.
The file had called her beautiful, but it hadn’t done her justice. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was magnetic. A contradiction of hard edges and soft curves, all wrapped in an air of quiet fury.
And her eyes…
For a split second, they met mine, and I caught something unexpected—fear. It was fleeting, quickly masked by a glare, but it was enough to stir something primal inside me.
Hatred. Desire. They burned together, feeding off each other in a way I couldn’t quite control.
I stepped closer, offering her a smile that was more predator than charm. “You must be Valentina,” I said, my voice low.
“And you must be Dante,” she replied, her tone sharp enough to cut.
I reached for her hand, keeping my eyes locked on hers as I brought it to my lips. But instead of brushing a kiss against her knuckles like decorum demanded, I turned her hand slightly and sucked gently on the tips of her fingers.
Her breath hitched, and the room fell into a stunned silence.
“Welcome to the family,” I murmured, letting her fingers slip from my lips.
Her cheeks flushed red, her expression a mix of shock and fury.
“Dante,” my father snapped, his voice cold and dangerous.
I straightened, throwing him a mocking smile. “Just being polite.”
Valentina yanked her hand back, her glare sharp enough to slice through steel. Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away, her head held high despite the heat I knew she must have felt.
My father’s gaze burned into me as the tension in the room thickened. I could feel his anger simmering just below the surface, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t here to play the obedient son.
—
Valentina’s POV
Heat crawled up my neck and settled on my cheeks as I strode away from him, my heels clicking against the polished floor. My fingers tingled where his lips had touched them, and I clenched them into fists, willing the sensation away.
Who the hell did he think he was?
I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server, downing it in one go. The bubbles fizzed on my tongue, but they did little to extinguish the fire raging in my chest. My stepbrother—Dante—was everything I’d expected and worse.
Arrogant. Reckless. Infuriatingly confident.
And yet…
No. I wouldn’t let myself go there.
I turned back toward the room, forcing myself to focus on the larger picture. This banquet wasn’t just about introductions or familial reunions. Lorenzo—my stepfather—had been meticulously planning this evening for weeks. It was about power, alliances, and expansion.
As if on cue, Lorenzo cleared his throat, the subtle sound commanding the attention of everyone in the room. He stood at the head of the long dining table, his imposing figure radiating authority.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his deep voice cutting through the murmur of conversations. “Tonight is not just a celebration of family but of the future.”
The word hung in the air like a challenge.
“My son,” Lorenzo continued, gesturing toward Dante, “has returned to us after years of forging his own path. His accomplishments speak for themselves—a vast network, a reputation for loyalty, and a strategic mind that rivals even my own.”
I glanced at Dante, who stood near the door, his posture casual but his jaw tight. His gray eyes burned with something dark as he listened to his father’s words.
“With Dante’s expertise,” Lorenzo continued, “we will expand our operations beyond what we once thought possible. The Marino name will not just recover its former glory; it will surpass it.”
The room erupted in polite applause, but the tension between Dante and Lorenzo was palpable.
Dante’s expression remained stoic, but his knuckles whitened as he gripped the back of a chair. When Lorenzo finally finished speaking, Dante’s lips curved into a tight, forced smile.
“Nice speech,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I especially liked the part where you made decisions about my life without asking me.”
The room fell silent again, the awkwardness palpable.
“Dante,” Lorenzo said, his voice low and warning.
But Dante wasn’t done.
“You think you can parade me around like some trophy?” he continued, his tone sharp. “Use me to prop up your crumbling empire? I’m not a pawn in your game.”
Without waiting for a response, Dante turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.
I watched him go, my emotions a tangle of irritation, curiosity, and something I couldn’t quite name. He was unpredictable, dangerous—and whether I liked it or not, I couldn’t ignore the way my heart raced whenever he was near.
But I wouldn’t let him get under my skin.
He wasn’t my ally. He wasn’t my enemy.
Not yet.
Valentina's POVI slammed the door behind me as I entered the room, my heart hammering against my ribs. The smug look on Dante's face when he'd called me "little cat" made me want to both slap him and kiss him senseless. How dare he act so possessive when he'd clearly been with countless women?"Arrogant bastard," I muttered, pacing back and forth across the small guest room I'd been assigned.I felt agitated, restless, like my skin was too tight for my body. The hypocrisy of it all drove me crazy. He had so many sexual partners himself—that lingerie in his apartment was proof enough—so why should he control me? What gave him the right to dictate who I could or couldn't be with?The memory of that burgundy lace made jealousy flare hot and vicious in my chest again. I pictured Dante with some faceless woman, his hands on her body, his mouth on her skin, and the image made me want to scream. Or break something. Preferably over his perfect, arrogant head."It's not fair," I whispered, si
Dante's POVMy stepsister is too naive. In this club, no one dares to touch my woman. She has no idea how things work here, how respect and fear maintain the hierarchy. She doesn't understand that in this world, I'm king.For instance, just now, there was a guy—Miguel, one of our newer prospects—staring at my stepsister as we walked back toward the clubhouse. His eyes traveled down her body, lingering on places they had no business looking. With just a glance from me, he immediately lowered his head, suddenly finding the ground fascinating. Timid men like that don't deserve my stepsister's love. They'd never be able to handle a woman like Val."What are you smiling about?" Val asked, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.I hadn't realized I was smiling. "Just thinking about how little you understand about this place.""Enlighten me then," she challenged, crossing her arms in a way that pushed her breasts up, making my mouth go dry.I moved closer, crowding her space deliberately. "It's be
Valentina's POVThe next day, I decided I needed some fresh air. After spending the night tossing and turning in the unfamiliar bed at the clubhouse, my mind racing with thoughts of Dante and that burgundy lingerie, I needed to clear my head.As I pushed open the heavy door that led outside, the bright morning sunlight momentarily blinded me. I noticed several men lounging around the front of the club. Some worked on motorcycles, others smoked cigarettes, but all of them shared the same intimidating look – leather cuts, tattoos, hard eyes that had seen too much. A few of them turned to stare as I emerged, their gazes lingering on my ass and tits in a way that made me uncomfortable.One guy with a full sleeve of tattoos whistled low under his breath. Another one, tall with a shaved head, nudged his friend and muttered something that made them both laugh. I lifted my chin and started walking toward the street. I wasn't sure where I was going, but anywhere would be better than staying c
Dante's POVThe meeting had wrapped up, but Jax and I stayed behind, nursing our drinks while the others filtered out of the back room at The Devil's Forge. Matteo had just left, giving me one of those knowing looks he was so good at."You know, Dante loses his mind whenever Val is mentioned," Jax said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair. "I've never seen you this way over a woman before. Especially not your sister."I shot him a warning glare. "You better keep your mouth shut if you don't want Raine finding out about your little adventure with those twins in Vegas last year.""Low blow, man." Jax winced, but recovered quickly. "But Raine and I aren't officially together yet.""That's not what she thinks," I countered. "I've seen the way she looks at you."Jax swirled his drink, a flash of something genuine crossing his face before his usual carefree mask slipped back into place. "Do what you want. I think you should be more worried about yourself.""Why's that?" I asked, taking a
Dante's POVThe dimly lit back room of The Devil's Forge smelled like cigarettes and whiskey. Perfect for secrets. I leaned back in my chair, watching as my uncle Matteo tapped his fingers against the wooden table. Jax and two other trusted members of our motorcycle club sat around us, faces serious in the low light."So," I said, breaking the silence. "Let's talk about those two girls from earlier."Jax snorted, taking a swig of his beer. "What's there to talk about? They're in, aren't they?"I grinned, turning to my uncle. "Do you know why they agreed so easily to come back to the club with us? Especially Hilary's eagerness." I leaned forward, enjoying the way my uncle's expression shifted. "I suspect she might have a crush on you, which is absurd considering your age is old enough to be her father."Matteo's face hardened. "I see her as a daughter."I shrugged, not believing him for a second. The way he'd looked at Hilary wasn't paternal. Not even close. "Sure you do. Keep telling
Valentina's POVAs I stepped into the apartment, I froze. This wasn't some bachelor pad or crash site. This was a real home. The kitchen, living room, and dining area flowed together, open and spacious.I ran my fingers along the smooth countertop. Silver-grey walls, worn black furniture, blue accents everywhere. The same blue as Dante's eyes. Something about it made me feel safe. Like I belonged here.The kitchen surprised me with its fancy appliances. Everything spotless and organized. I remembered when Dante made me soup that time I was sick. The memory hit me out of nowhere - him standing over the stove, stirring carefully, checking if it was too hot before giving it to me.He'd mentioned learning to cook after moving in with his uncle. I realized how little I actually knew about his day-to-day life now. I'd researched him thoroughly before our parents' wedding, but that file was full of facts, not the little details that made him who he really was. Yet somehow, I felt like I unde