SHADOWS OF DESIRE

Dante’s POV

I couldn’t sleep. Again. The penthouse felt too damn quiet, too charged, like the air itself was waiting for something to snap. Luca’s presence had infiltrated every corner—his scent on the terrace furniture, his notes scattered across the dining table, his voice echoing in my head from our conversations. I’d told myself it was just the novelty of having someone new around, someone who challenged me without fear. But that was bullshit. It was him. Those sharp brown eyes that saw too much, that stubborn mouth that curved into sarcasm even when he was terrified.

Teresa’s words haunted me: Finish what you started. What the hell did that even mean? Let him go and watch Viktor or Rossi tear him apart? Or keep him here, turning him into something more than an asset, more than a prisoner? The thought twisted in my gut, a dark hunger I hadn’t felt in years. Not since before Marco’s death buried everything under layers of duty and numbness.

I poured another scotch in my office, staring at the city lights. It was past midnight when I heard the soft footsteps in the hall. Luca. I’d given him limited access to the penthouse after dark, trusting him not to bolt—yet. The guards were discreet, but they were there. I set the glass down and moved to the doorway, watching him pad toward the kitchen in sweatpants and a loose shirt that clung to his lean frame from the humidity.

He froze when he saw me, his hand halfway to the fridge. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

“No.” My voice came out rougher than intended, laced with something primal. I stepped closer, the dim light casting shadows over his face. Up close, the bruises from the auction had faded, leaving smooth olive skin that begged to be touched. “What do you need?”

“Just water.” But his eyes flicked down my body, lingering on the open collar of my shirt, the tattoos peeking through. There it was—that spark. Not fear, not resentment. Heat.

I closed the distance, backing him against the counter. His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. “You sure that’s all?” I murmured, my hand brushing his hip. The contact sent a jolt through me, electric and forbidden. He was mine by purchase, but this… this I wanted him to choose.

Luca’s eyes darkened, his chest rising faster. “What the hell are you doing, Dante?”

“Testing something.” I leaned in, my lips grazing his ear. “Tell me to stop.”

He didn’t. Instead, his hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer. Our mouths crashed together in a frenzy—hot, demanding, no gentleness left in me. I pinned him against the counter, my body pressing into his, feeling his arousal harden against my thigh. He tasted like desperation and fire, his tongue battling mine as if this kiss was another act of defiance.

I broke away just enough to growl, “Upstairs. Now.”

He nodded, breathless, and I dragged him toward my bedroom, the one place I hadn’t let him near. The door slammed shut behind us, and I shoved him onto the bed, stripping off his shirt in one fluid motion. His chest was toned from whatever routine he’d kept before this nightmare, nipples pebbling in the cool air. I hovered over him, my hands roaming, tracing the lines of his abs down to the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Dante…” His voice was a rasp, half-warning, half-plea.

I yanked the pants down, exposing him fully. He was hard, leaking already, and the sight made my cock strain against my trousers. “You want this,” I said, wrapping my hand around him, stroking slow and firm. He arched into my touch, a moan escaping his lips. “Say it.”

“Fuck… yes.” His hands clawed at my back, urging me on.

I shed my clothes quickly, joining him skin to skin. The heat between us was incendiary—no slow exploration, just raw need. I flipped him onto his stomach, spreading his legs with my knee. My fingers teased his entrance, slick with lube from the nightstand drawer. He pushed back against me, impatient, and I obliged, sliding one finger in, then two, scissoring to prep him.

“More,” he demanded, his voice muffled against the sheets.

I positioned myself, the head of my cock pressing against him. “You sure?”

“Do it.”

I thrust in, burying myself deep in one go. He cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure, his body clenching around me like a vice. I stilled for a second, letting him adjust, but the beast in me—the one I’d kept leashed for so long—snarled to life. I started moving, hard and fast, each snap of my hips driving us both toward the edge.

Luca met every thrust, pushing back, his moans filling the room. “Harder… fuck, Dante…”

I gripped his hips, bruising, angling to hit that spot inside him. He shattered around me, coming untouched, his release spilling onto the sheets. The sight pushed me over, and I followed, pumping into him with a guttural groan, filling him completely.

We collapsed, panting, sweat-slicked and spent. But as the haze cleared, reality crept in. What the fuck had I just done? This wasn’t protection; this was possession, dark and twisted.

Luca rolled over, his eyes searching mine. “That… changes things.”

“Yeah.” I pulled him against me, not ready to let go. “But it doesn’t change the danger outside these walls.”

He traced a tattoo on my chest, his touch lingering. “Then keep me safe. But don’t lock me away like before.”

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. Alessio’s name flashed. I answered, keeping my voice steady. “What?”

“We’ve got movement. Viktor’s men hit one of our warehouses tonight. They’re looking for him—Luca. And Rossi’s offering four million now. He’s not backing down.”

My blood ran cold. I glanced at Luca, who was watching me with growing alarm. “Handle it. I’ll be there soon.”

Hanging up, I met his eyes. “They’re coming for you.”

Luca sat up, the afterglow shattered. “Who?”

“Both of them. Viktor and Rossi.” I stood, grabbing my clothes. “Stay here. I’ll deal with it.”

But as I dressed, a knock echoed through the penthouse—urgent, insistent. Maria’s voice called from the hall: “Mr. Vitale! There’s someone here. Says it’s about the accountant. And he’s not alone.”

I froze, gun already in hand. Who the hell had breached security? Luca reached for his pants, fear flashing in his eyes. “Dante…”

“Stay behind me.” We moved to the door, the night erupting into chaos. But as I opened it, the figure in the hallway made my stomach drop. Dmitri Volkov—Viktor’s nephew—stood there, disheveled and bleeding, his eyes wild.

“I need to talk to the accountant,” he gasped. “Before my uncle kills us all.”