Chapter 5

Livia Solene

Vincent was so mad yesterday that he stripped away every ounce of my independence, confiscating my IDs and cards like a warden locking down a prisoner. Trying to control me once again. But he underestimated me. I let him take them, knowing full well what I had tucked away. I have my cash hidden under the kitchen sink, buried deep where his lazy eyes never look, along with a spare identification card he doesn't even know exists.

I anticipated this exact brand of toxic fallout. I always withdraw cash bit by bit from joint accounts, stashing it safely away in the lining of my duffel bag. I peeled twenty thousand crisp bills from the stash and shoved them straight into my purse. Vincent already left the penthouse behind him this morning, and if he honestly believes I am going to sit around crying like a miserable, trapped housewife in that gilded cage, he is dead wrong.

I marched out of the penthouse, my skin humming with restless energy. Not in the mood to deal with traffic or the tedious mechanics of driving, I flagged down the doorman and told him to hail a cab. But as I stepped out under the grand awning, fate decided to slap me in the face.

My husband's familiar luxury sedan pulled up and idled right across from our building. A woman occupied the passenger seat, leaning over with an easy, sickening familiarity. This time, it wasn't his secretary. It was a brand-new model, another disposable toy.

“Where to go?” the cab driver asked the second I yanked the back door open and slid into the leather seat.

“Follow the grey car in front,” I snapped, and the driver immediately stepped hard on the gas, tailing them through the dense Manhattan traffic.

He wants to control my every breath by locking down my money? Fine. What if I return the favor? What if I take the reins of his predictable, fragile life by collecting undeniable proof of his cheating, lying ass and using it as leverage to shatter his control over me forever?

His car slid to a halt in front of an upscale, five-star hotel. A bellboy hurried over to take his keys, and after paying the cab driver a generous wad of cash, I slipped inside after them like a ghost. I dropped into a plush lobby armchair, pulling a glossy fashion magazine up to mask my face while I strained to hear Vincent checking in at the front desk.

“Here’s your key card. Room 701.”

The second their footsteps faded toward the elevators, I tossed the magazine onto the coffee table and stood up. I tracked my husband from a safe distance, watching with a bitter curl of my lip as he shamelessly locked his arm around his new mistress's waist, guiding her forward like she was the most precious treasure on earth.

Then, it hit me like a physical blow. A sudden, aching wave of contrast washed over me, dragging me straight back to those three days of pure, unadulterated freedom and profound respect I had tasted in San Diego. Dante made me feel like I was genuinely valued and cherished. He looked at me like I mattered, listening to me talk about art and fashion for hours, wanting me for who I was rather than what I could offer on paper.

My trembling fingers dug into my purse, wrapping around my phone. For the first time in my obedient life, I deliberately chose to break the rules. I dialed his number, my eyes locked on the empty hallway where Vincent’s shadow had just vanished.

It rang once before a deep, rich voice answered.

“I’m glad you called me, mi reina.”

The heavy baritone hummed through the speaker, but something about the proximity made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It didn't sound like it was coming through a phone line. It sounded like it was right against my ear.

I spun around on my heel, my breath catching painfully in my throat. Standing barely five feet away from me was Dante. A slow, gentle, yet knowing smile curved his lips. He wore a crisp black dress shirt with the top buttons undone, dark slacks, and his heavily inked left hand shoved casually into his pocket.

Without a word, I tapped the screen to drop the call and started walking toward him, entirely paralyzed by the sheer shock of his sudden appearance.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered, my voice barely carrying over the ambient lobby noise.

“Visiting you, mi reina.”

I bit down hard on my lower lip, a shiver of dangerous anticipation rolling down my spine. He was right here, materializing precisely when my world was crashing down. He flew across the country from San Diego to New York just to track me down? The man was entirely, unapologetically devoted, and God help me, I felt a dangerous pull toward him.

“I want to accept your offer... I want to leave all of this behind.”

Dante’s expression softened, the intense edge in his eyes melting into a profound, fierce warmth. He stepped closer, gently lifting a hand to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing my jawline with a tenderness that nearly undid me.

“I told you I would give you the respect and adoration you deserve, Livia,” he murmured, his voice a low, steady anchor in the chaos of my mind. “You never have to feel invisible again.”

The sheer gentleness in his touch, contrasted with the fierce promise in his eyes, completely dismantled the last of my defenses. I leaned into his palm, a quiet sigh escaping my lips as the heavy weight of my marriage finally cracked.

“Let’s go,” I whispered.

We walked toward the front desk together, and the hotel clerk looked up, her professional smile faltering slightly as her gaze slid past me to land on the towering, tattooed wall of muscle standing right behind me. Even in a high-end hotel, Dante commanded every inch of space he occupied.

“I need a room for two,” Dante instructed smoothly.

He slid his heavy, ink-stained hand across the marble counter, slapping down an exclusive black titanium card with casual dominance. “Make it the executive suite.”

The clerk swallowed hard, her fingers flying across the keyboard at lightning speed before she handed the key card back with trembling fingers. “Here’s your key card, sir.”

I snatched the plastic card off the counter and dragged Dante toward the elevators. He pressed the up button, and just as I started to turn toward him, his heavy arm shot out, catching me by the waist and hauling my body flush against his hard frame. The elevator door opened, and he carefully guided me inside.

The heavy metal doors slid shut, sealing us off from the rest of the world. I swiped the key card against the sensor and pressed the button for the seventh floor. The instant the panel lit up, Dante shifted, his broad chest pressing so hard against my back I could feel the heavy rhythm of his heartbeat.

His ink-drenched arm locked around my waist like a steel band, pinning me tight as he leaned down to press a warm, lingering kiss against the sensitive skin of my neck.

“I knew you wouldn't last before reaching out to me, mi reina,” he murmured softly, his hot breath sending shivers across my flesh.

The elevator bell chimed like a gunshot, signaling the seventh floor. The doors slid open. Room 702 sat right next door to Vincent’s room. Though at that exact moment, the thought of that miserable bastard didn't even cross my mind.

We stepped out into the carpeted hallway, and the second I swiped the key card and shoved the heavy wooden door open, the door clicked shut behind us. The moment we were enclosed in the quiet sanctuary of the suite, all the pent-up tension, heartache, and rebellious adrenaline broke loose.

Dante caught my face in both hands, his dark eyes burning with sudden, raw intensity as his mouth crashed down onto mine in a fierce, passionate kiss. Any lingering hesitation vanished, swallowed up by the electric friction between us. My hands flew up on instinct, my fingers tangling fiercely into the short dark hair at the nape of his neck as I kissed him back with matching, frantic desperation.

With one arm caging me against the door, his other hand dropped swiftly to my lower back, finding the hidden zipper of my dress and tearing it down with a sharp, metallic zip that echoed in the quiet room.

“F*ck,” Dante hissed against my lips as the silk dress fell instantly away, pooling in a lifeless heap around my ankles. I stood exposed before him in nothing but a pair of sheer, black laced panties.

He buried his face hot against my bare neck, sucking hard on the tender flesh just below my jaw before tracking lower. He abruptly caught a fistful of my long black hair, jerking my head back so violently I gasped, exposing the curve of my spine as he pressed a searing, open-mouthed kiss against my skin.

“This is the body that should be worshipped and pleased every single day, Livia,” he growled, his voice vibrating darkly right against my bones.

He devoured my mouth in another deep, punishing kiss before his hands dropped to grip my hips.

“Lift your legs, mi reina,” he commanded against my lips, his voice thick with raw command.

I didn't hesitate for a microsecond. I hooked both legs tightly around his waist, locking my ankles firmly behind his lower back.

With a low, guttural groan vibrating from his chest, Dante slowly carried me away from the door, carefully lowering my trembling body down onto the plush mattress of the king-sized bed. He stepped between my open thighs, his dark eyes burning into mine with an intense, consuming heat.

With deliberate slowness, he hooked his fingers into the delicate lace of my panties, pulling them down my legs and stripping them completely off my body. Instead of tossing them aside, Dante paused. He brought the wet, slick scrap of lace straight to his face, inhaling deeply before a wicked, possessive smirk curled his lips. He folded the panties neatly and shoved them deep into his trouser pocket, keeping my scent close to him like a secret trophy.

Before I could even catch my breath from the shock of it, he buried his face shamelessly between my thighs. He slid his hot tongue deep into my slick, throbbing core with a starved, ruthless stroke that made my back violently arch off the mattress in pure agony and ecstasy.

“Ah! God--” I sobbed out, my fingers clawing frantically into the broad, muscle-bound expanse of his shoulders as wave after wave of violent pleasure crashed over me. He ate me like a starving man, his tongue driving me entirely out of my mind until my hips bucked uncontrollably against his mouth.

“Dante! Please!” I choked out, my inner muscles clenching tightly around nothing as I shattered against his lips, my entire body trembling like a leaf.

He caught me as I collapsed down from the peak, pulling back with glistening lips and a dark, triumphant grin. Without a second of wasted time, he ripped open the remaining buttons of his black dress shirt, shrugging it off his broad shoulders, followed swiftly by his slacks.

My heavy, dazed eyes swept over his physique. Exactly as I had imagined, his entire tan torso, massive shoulders, and thick biceps were covered in intricate, sweeping black tattoos. But my gaze didn't linger on the ink. It dropped straight to his length.

He stood completely naked before me, his massive, thick cock standing bolt upright, rock-hard and leaking heavy beads of pre-cum at the weeping, glistening tip.

“Put your legs on my shoulders, mi reina,” he rasped, his dark eyes burning with absolute, terrifying possession.

I slid my legs upward, resting my heels heavily against the top of his broad shoulders as he stepped directly into my open space. He skipped any notion of gentle foreplay, gripped the heavy base of his length, aligned himself with my dripping, aching core, and pushed forward, burying himself deep inside me in one ruthless, single thrust.

“Ah!” I screamed out as he stretched me to the absolute limit. It was heavy, overwhelming, and so unbearably good.

Dante didn't hold back an inch. He locked his massive hands around my hips with crushing strength and began to drive into me with heavy, brutal, rhythmic thrusts that rattled the hotel room walls. Every violent slap of skin against skin sent electric tremors straight up my spine.

He leaned up, capturing my mouth in a scorching, suffocating kiss while his large, calloused fingers reached up to aggressively pinch and roll my sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Louder, mi reina,” he panted against my lips, thrusting deeper, faster, harder into my heat. “Let the whole world hear how I take what’s mine.”

My cries grew louder, my fingernails digging angry red crescents deep into the ink on his back as the friction built a roaring, blinding fire inside my veins. I was hurtling toward the edge all over again, my inner walls clenching desperately around his thick length.

“Dante... I’m... I’m coming!” I sobbed, my voice echoing unchecked in the compact space.

“Come for me, Livia. Take every drop,” he snarled, delivering one final, punishing thrust that hit my deepest, most sensitive spot.

I detonated, screaming his name as wave after wave of violent, earth-shattering pleasure tore through my body, milking every last inch of him. Pushed over the precipice by my tight contractions, Dante let out a low, feral roar, burying himself as deep as humanly possible inside me before flooding my core with his hot, heavy release.

We clung to each other like drowning victims, chest to chest, panting heavily in the chaotic aftermath of the storm.

“F*ck, mi reina, you are so tight. No one else will ever touch you again.”

I was still catching my breath when a furious, enraged fist suddenly hammered violently against our hotel room door, shaking the entire wooden frame on its hinges.

“Livia! Open this damn door right now! I know you’re in there!”

Vincent’s muffled, venomous voice screamed straight through the thin walls, vibrating from the hallway right outside.