Chapter Master Dante Novels & Stories

"We eliminate anyone who dares to stand in our way, and their bodies are buried without names." "Why?" I challenged, holding my ground. "Is there a secret brother you are desperate to keep buried?" "There are no secrets," Dante stated, his voice turning deadly cold. "There is only Roman. He is the sole heir, the sole Don, and your sole master." "Sole heir," I repeated softly, committing his exact defensive phrasing to memory. "Understood." Dante glared at me, clearly unsettled by my complete lack of fear. He turned and walked briskly out of the library, leaving me entirely alone.

>>>Dante Dante paced back and forth in his dimly lit study, his mind a tempest of fury and frustration. The events of the night replayed in his head, a cycle of rage he couldn't break. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light of the desk lamp, and took a long, burning sip. It did little to quell the fire inside him.

He struggled to swallow the saliva as he remembered. "Okay, I give up." Dante raised his palms, indicating that he had given up arguing with Richie. "First, I'll answer why the Great Master is searching for young geniuses behind closed doors in several countries. He is looking for assistants who can be trusted to help him run the company." Richie immediately glared at Dante. He reflexively stepped forward and almost hit Dante on the head if the man in the fedora hadn't blocked Richie's hand and stepped back. "Don't be absurd! I have the right to run this company!" Richie protested with a clenched jaw.

Dante's pov Dante stands frozen in the doorway his eyes locked on a scene that makes his blood boil so hot he feels like he might explode. Right there in the center of the Persian rug, his brother Lorenzo has his hands all over Danika. Not just a polite touch, but a possessive, filthy grip. Lorenzo’s large hand is cupping Danika’s ass, his fingers digging deep into the soft flesh through her dress, pulling her hips flush against his own. Dante can see the way Lorenzo’s thumb is rubbing dangerously close to the crease of her thigh, a motion that screams intimacy and ownership.

Dante pours himself another glass. “Fuck,” Nico says, leaning on the armrest of his wheelchair with his hand in front of his mouth as well. Sylvana was the only one who looked confused. “How is this important?” She asks, not understanding the actual importance this information held. Dante takes a swig of his glass. “The Burning of The Muratori Heirs. It is a blemish on the Dragonetti name, an event that never should have happened and cemented me as an unfeeling bastard.” He finishes another glass. Nico and I looked at one another and frowned in confusion.

Will Dante help me? ******************************************

“Boss, you know what waits for us if you go down this path you think is calling you.” “Do not lecture me, Luca.” “I am not.” “You are.” “No, I am not. I just wanted to remind you what is at stake if you get invested. Only weak men get invested.” “I am not weak,” Dante said through clenched teeth. He grabbed Luca by the collar and pulled him close. Luca raised his hands up in a surrender pose. That small gesture made Dante release him, but not before giving him the kind of stare that burned. “Get me what I need in forty eight hours,” Dante repeated. He walked to the door. “And clean this place up. It smells like sin.”

The material was warm from her touch, a tangible piece of her past that was about to dictate her future. She didn't hesitate when she reached her destination. She pushed open the heavy oak door to the master suite without knocking. Dante was inside. He had stripped down to a fitted black shirt and dark pants, his sleeves rolled up to reveal bruised, reddened knuckles from the earlier fight downstairs. He was pacing near the large wooden desk like a caged predator, his large frame tight with restless energy and a barely contained fury. A tablet lay open on the desk, its screen glowing with strategic notes, logistics, and digital maps as he desperately planned their next moves against Marcello

Master Damien got to the entrance of his chamber and was about to go in when a warrior ran to him panting hard as a result of the long distance to which he had ran from. "Master" he fell to the floor prostrating before Master Damien in fear. They attacked us master, they took us unaware and struck us, as I am talking to you, the warriors are fighting over their lives in the boundaries" he panted rushing his words. Master Damien stare at him for quite a long time before walking into his chamber not saying anything.

I'm just a slave to the energy that crackles between us. Dante drops his hands from the wall to my sides. His fingers run up and down my body - feeling me, remembering me, then drawing me closer. His tongue pushes deeper into my mouth, and his leg presses between mine. I moan against his lips as his thigh rubs against me. The thin material of my dress is little protection from that exquisite friction.