Semua Bab The King’s Wrong Captive: Bab 51 - Bab 60

I lie there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, listening to the slow, steady sound of Dante breathing beside me.He’s out.Completely.Whatever kept him upright through the night finally let go, and now he’s sprawled on his back, one arm flung over the edge of the mattress like his body simply gave up the fight. His breathing is deep, unguarded. Human.I don’t know what to do with that.Or with the fact that I’m lying in his bed.With him.With the quiet, undeniable truth sitting heavy in my chest.I can’t believe I slept with him.Not because I didn’t want to—but because I swore I never would.Rule one: don’t mix pleasure with business.Rule two: don’t give anyone leverage over your body.And yet.I turn my head just enough to look at him.Dante Valenti. King of his world. A man who could have anyone he wanted—women who are soft and full and untouched by scars. Women with curves and laughter and easy beauty.Not me.I’ve been told my whole life I’m too skinny. Too sharp. Built

First class is quiet in the way only money can buy.Leather seats, champagne flutes no one’s touched, a soft hum beneath everything as the plane cuts through the sky. I sit back, arm resting on the divider, eyes forward—but my attention is split in five different directions.James and Rocco are already leaned toward each other, heads close, voices low.“We’ll have eyes on us the moment we land,” James is saying, scrolling through something on his phone. “Funeral means press. Press means cameras. Cameras mean no overt moves.”Rocco shifts in his seat, stiff as a board. He hates flying. Hates crowds. Hates New York even more. “Doesn’t mean they won’t try something subtle. Car routes, hotels, elevators—”“They won’t hit us in public,” James cuts in. “Not with cameras everywhere.”Rocco snorts. “People get stupid when grief and power mix.”“That’s why we keep it clean,” James replies. “Visible security. No flexing. No threats.”I glance over. “And no deviations,” I add calmly.Both of the

The store feels like a different universe.Glass, light, polished floors that reflect us back like we belong here. Racks arranged by color instead of function. Shoes displayed like art. Music humming low enough to be felt more than heard.Danika, meanwhile, is on a mission.“That—no, two of those—wait, give me that one too,” she says, plucking dresses, jackets, and tops off racks with ruthless efficiency. She hands everything to the personal shopping assistant trailing behind us, whose arms are already stacked so high I’m surprised he hasn’t dropped anything yet.He nods politely. Sweating. Smiling. Dying inside.I trail a step behind her, half dazed, half amused.“I don’t need all of this,” I say.“Yes, you do,” Danika replies instantly. “You’ve spent your entire life in survival mode. This is recalibration.”“I don’t even know what half of this is for.”“Living,” she says over her shoulder. “You should try it.”She stops abruptly, turns, and studies me like I’m a puzzle she’s alread

I kiss her deeply, hungrily, my tongue pushing past her lips to claim hers, tasting the faint sweetness of whatever lip balm she wore during her shopping spree.She gasps into me, her hands fisting in my shirt as she kisses back, matching my intensity, her body arching closer.The heat builds fast, that familiar ache stirring in my groin as her breasts press against my chest. I break the kiss only to trail my mouth along her jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin there while my free hand slides down to grip her ass, squeezing the firm flesh through her pants.She moans softly, the sound vibrating against my lips, and it snaps something in me. I bend slightly, hooking one arm under her thighs, and lift her up in a swift motion.She's light in my arms, legs instinctively wrapping around my waist as I cradle her against me, her weight settling perfectly."Dante," she breathes, her fingers threading through my hair, tugging just enough to send a jolt straight to my cock, which is already hard

She trembles, body tensing as I rub her swollen nub with my free hand, circling fast. Her orgasm hits like a storm, walls clamping down, milking me as she screams into the pillow, her release squirting out around my shaft.The vise-like squeeze pulls me over the edge. I release her throat, shoving her face down into the mattress as I pound through her spasms, groaning as I cum again, flooding her pussy with thick spurts of seed until it overflows, running down her thighs.I collapse over her back, both of us spent and shaking, my cock softening inside her. I kiss the nape of her neck, loosening my grip on her hair, and we sink into the sheets together, the room filled with our heavy breaths and the scent of sex.For a moment, neither of us speaks.Then I murmur, “You okay?”She exhales, a soft huff that turns into a quiet laugh. “I’m… great.”That makes me snort. “That wasn’t convincing.”She laughs again, but it fades quicker this time. Her shoulders tense under my chest.“I’m not,”