LOGINElena’s POV
His eyes flash with fury. His hand snaps tighter around my jaw, slamming me back against the shelves. Books rattle.“Dante likes to play house,” he growls, breath hot against my skin. “I like to play rough. You will learn the difference when I take what he thinks is his.”I don’t flinch. I meet his gaze head-on. “You’ll have to kill me first.”“That can be arranged.” His(Dante’s POV) I still haven’t pulled out. I stay buried deep, grinding slow, letting her feel every twitch of my cock inside her.“Fuck, you feel perfect,” I rasp against her neck. “So tight. So wet. Still milking me even after you came.”Elena whimpers, pushing back against me. “Don’t stop. I need more.”I chuckle darkly, rolling my hips in slow, deep circles. “Greedy girl. You just came all over my cock and you still want more?”“Yes,” she gasps. “I want you to fuck the memory of him out of me. I want to feel you for days.”I pull out almost all the way, then slam back in hard. “Like this?”She moans loud, forehead pressed to the glass again. “Yes — just like that. Harder. Make it hurt so good.”I give her what she wants. I fuck her fast and brutal, one hand gripping her hip,
Dante’s POV Days later and I still can’t shake the image of Viktor’s hand on her jaw, his mouth forming the word “Mine” like she already belonged to him. Every time I close my eyes I see it, and every time the rage comes back hotter than before. I’m taking her with me today. Not because she needs to be at the meeting, but because I need her close. Need to feel her breathing beside me, warm and alive, so I remember exactly what the fuck I’m fighting for. The black Escalade cuts through Midtown traffic. Elena sits beside me in the back, legs crossed, black dress riding up just enough to show the smooth line of her thigh. She stares out the tinted window at the skyscrapers sliding past, but I can feel the tension rolling off her. She knows I’m wired. She knows why. I reach over and slide my hand onto her knee, squeezing once. Hard. Possessive. “You good, baby?” She turns her head, meets my eyes. “You’re the one who looks like he’s about to snap someone’s neck.” I smirk. “That’s be
Elena’s POV His eyes flash with fury. His hand snaps tighter around my jaw, slamming me back against the shelves. Books rattle.“Dante likes to play house,” he growls, breath hot against my skin. “I like to play rough. You will learn the difference when I take what he thinks is his.”I don’t flinch. I meet his gaze head-on. “You’ll have to kill me first.”“That can be arranged.” His thumb presses harder into my cheek. “But I would rather keep you alive. Break you piece by piece until you beg me to fuck you the way he never could.”Svetlana steps closer, voice dripping venom. “She thinks she’s queen already. Wait until she watches Dante bleed out on the floor. Then we’ll see how brave she is.”I laugh, low and bitter. “You two are pathetic. Plotting in secret while you fuck like animals. Dante will crush you bot
Elena’s POVI’m still buzzing from the range. My thighs ache in the best way, skin still warm where Dante’s hands gripped me while he finger-fucked me against the gun rack. Every step reminds me I’m marked, claimed, and dripping with the memory of his voice in my ear telling me to come while holding cold steel.I head toward my medical suite at the end of the east corridor. The house feels too quiet today, like it’s holding its breath. I pass the library doors. Heavy oak. Usually locked tight. Today one is cracked open, just enough for a sliver of lamplight to spill across the marble.I should keep walking. I know I should.But curiosity has always been my worst fucking habit.Scene 2: The Power PlayI edge closer, heart kicking up. Low voices drift out. Russian first, then English, then a moan that makes my stomach twist.I nudge the door another inch.S
Dante’s POV The dining room feels smaller the second Viktor sits down. Long mahogany table, candles burning low, crystal glasses catching the light. Elena sits to my right, close enough that my thigh presses against hers under the table. Viktor takes the seat directly across from us, flanked by two of his silent men who don’t eat, just watch everything like hawks.He cuts into his rare steak with slow, deliberate strokes. “Father always gave the best toys to the youngest,” he says, lifting a piece to his mouth. “Remember that red Porsche when we were kids? I wanted it. He gave it to you. Said you earned it by not crying when he broke your arm.”I don’t flinch. “You cried enough for both of us.”Viktor chuckles. “True. But I learned. Toys are temporary. Power lasts. Ports last.” His eyes slide to Elena again. “Women… women can be replaced
Dante’s POVThe motorcade rolls to a stop in the circular drive like it owns the goddamn gravel. Three black SUVs with windows so dark they swallow the light. Doors open in perfect sync. Boots hit stone. And then he steps out.Viktor.Four years older. Scar running thick and white from temple to jaw. Same dark hair, same gray eyes, but his are colder, emptier. He wears a charcoal coat over a black turtleneck, shoulders broad enough to block the sun. The darker version of me. The one that never learned to stop when the blood started flowing.He scans the front steps and spots me standing at the top with my arms crossed. His mouth curves. Not a smile. Something meaner.“Dante,” he says, accent thick with Moscow winters. “Still playink house in America, da?”I don’t move. “Still breathin’ after fallin’ off that roof in Brooklyn? Miracles happen.”He l
Dante’s POVThe burner buzzes on my desk like it’s got a personal grudge. I snatch it up, thumb the answer without looking.“Talk.”Nico’s voice comes through tight. “Viktor’s moving, boss. Moscow contacts say he’s liquidating assets, pulling strings with the old guard. Private charter booked to JF
Elena's POV He lets go of my elbow, turns on his heel like he’s already headed for her throat. “I’m gonna rip her fucking head off.”“Dante.” I step in front of him quick, plant my good hand on his chest. He stops, but his whole body is vibrating with rage. “Wait.”He looks down at me, eyes black
Elena’s POV Two weeks since the wedding and Dante’s still playing saint like it’s a religion he invented just to torture me. He comes home smelling like gun oil and bourbon, looks at me like he wants to eat me alive, then walks away to his office or the gym or wherever the hell he goes to keep his
Elena’s POV The invitation wasn’t optional, and Marta’s face when she handed me the dress said it louder than any words could. Dark green silk, neckline plunging low enough to feel like a dare, sheer sleeves that let every freckle show through. It wasn’t a gift. It was armor Svetlana wanted me to







