by Katee Robert
Rose had been Dante’s captive for less than twenty-four hours and she’d already come all over his hand. She didn’t like her odds of spending the night in the same bed without riding his cock. Maybe the couch would be comfortable enough?
She had to do better than this. She’d already proven she couldn’t touch him, even in violence, without him taking it as an invitation to touch her right back. It would be simpler if he dealt pain, because then she could hate him. When he gave her pleasure instead, it got her wires all crossed.
Best to put as much distance between them as possible.
The living room was honestly really nice. Big picture windows overlooked the hill down into the trees, offering a view of the path Dante had carried her up earlier. The trees were too tall to see too far, so she couldn’t gauge their actual location. Not that she’d be able to determine much even if she could see for miles.
Rose wasn’t exactly an outside girl. She preferred the city to the country, and the last time she’d let Sasha and Anya convince her to travel to Colorado to go skiing, she’d nearly broken her body on the bunny hill. She’d spent the rest of the trip at the bar, falling deeply into lust with a beautiful blond named Natalie. It was time much better spent, in her opinion.
Rose leaned down and pressed a hand to the deep, overstuffed couch. It was plenty long enough for her to lay on and stretch out. It would hardly be termed roughing it by sleeping on the couch, even though she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept somewhere that wasn’t a bed. Maybe Lorelei’s twenty-first birthday last year when they’d all drank too much tequila and ended up passing out in the bathroom while Lorelei puked her guts up. Sleeping in the tub had left a spasm in Rose’s neck for a week. The couch had to be better than that. Hopefully.
She glanced at the windows. Once darkness fell, anyone outside might as well have a spotlight on her in the living room. And it would be dark, not like night in New York, where there were always lights, sounds, people moving about, no matter the hour. She shivered. She really should have reconsidered all those horror movie marathons with Anya and Lorelei.
“Rosa.”
She didn’t jump, but it was a near thing. When she got back home, she was definitely avoiding the scary movies. She dragged in a deep breath and turned to face her captor. “For the last time, that’s not my name.”
The man had no right to look so good. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, showing off his strong, lean body. He hadn’t even dried himself properly, and she couldn’t help watching a drip of water slide down the center of his chest between his pecs, down…down…down….
Rose jerked her gaze to his face. There was no relief for her there, though. Common consensus seemed to be that when people shaved off their beards, they lost a large percentage of their attractiveness. The same could not be said for Dante. Without his beard to soften his features, there was no hiding the perfection of his face. Someone looking at him from a distance might think he was too pretty, but the aura of danger that coated him like a second skin turned that pretty into a weapon to be used against the unsuspecting.
She wasn’t unsuspecting. Not after everything they’d been through. So why couldn’t she quite catch her breath?
Dante gave her a long look. “Should I use Roza instead?” He said her name with a perfect Russian inflection, just like her parents did when they were feeling particularly sentimental.
A chill went through her. “No. Not that. Never that.”
“Rosa, it is then.”
A losing battle, and one she should let go, but she felt like she’d gone eleven rounds in the ring and was reeling off the ropes. If she’d just shot him properly the first time, none of this would be happening. The fact that she had shot him, and he still insisted on using a pet name… It confused her. She didn’t like it. “You are not my family, Dante. You are not my boyfriend. You are not anything to me. You haven’t earned the right to use a nickname when you speak to me.”
“Può essere.” He shrugged. “Maybe I haven’t earned it. Yet. But don’t say I’m nothing to you. It’s a lie, and not even a good one at that.”
His sheer stubbornness must be quite the strength when it came to dealing with his uncle’s enemies, but it made her want to strangle him with her bare hands. “It’s not a lie.” It couldn’t be. Their history might confuse her heart, but her head was very clear on what needed to happen in the future.
He turned and started for the bedroom. “It gets chilly at night. You should consider clothes.” Dante looked over his shoulder. “Though you’re more than welcome to stay naked, and I’ll start a fire.”
She glanced at the giant fireplace dominating the far wall. It was made of river rock and the chimney had to be at least six feet wide. It was very beautiful, just like the rest of the house, but the logs artfully arranged in its mouth were most definitely fake. Rose narrowed her eyes. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that fireplace is electric.”
“Si.” His grin was absolutely heart-stopping. “I’ll flick that switch just for you, baby.”
She would not grin. She would absolutely not smile… But her lips curved despite her determination to remain stone-faced. “I’ll take those clothes now.”
“Pity.”
Dante turned back to the hall and kept going. Even though Rose knew it was a terrible idea to be in the same room as him and a bed, especially after things had gone so sideways in the shower, her body didn’t get the memo. One step, then another. Was this how those children in the Pied Piper fairy tale felt? Afraid and drawn, all at the same time? She couldn’t blame the tangled feeling inside her on any kind of magic, though. It was messy emotions and pure lust battling with logic and fear. She was so busy arguing with herself about the intelligence of following him at all, she walked right into the closet behind him.
Rose stopped short, her heart doing something uncomfortable in her chest at the sight that greeted her. For the first time since he walked out in a towel, she wasn’t looking at him. “Dante,” she said slowly.
“Si?”
It struck her that he was using Italian a lot more freely now. How challenging had it been for him to play the generic, all-American white guy card when he pretended to be Jackson Smith? No, best not to think about that too hard. Not when there was something more pressing staring her right in the face.
Half the closet was devoted to a woman’s wardrobe.
It had never occurred to ask if he was in a relationship. He’d been fucking her for months under the guise of his persona, and then he’d spouted off about marrying her, but ultimately that didn’t mean he didn’t have a person back home. Someone who mattered enough to have clothing in the closet of his murder-cabin. Someone he brought here when he wanted to be alone and escape.
She absently rubbed the back of her hand against her sternum as if she could rub away the awful sensation taking root there. Another lie in the long list of lies. Why was she surprised? Why did it hurt after all this time? She cleared her throat. “You can’t honestly expect me to wear your girlfriend’s clothing. I don’t want that. Surely she wouldn’t want it, either, especially not after where you’ve spent the last few months.”
Dante dropped the towel, giving her a truly stellar view of his muscular ass. “Your options remain the same.”
Naked or use these clothes.
The feeling in her chest strengthened. He hadn’t rushed to tell her that there was no other woman. Honestly, why did she care? If the mystery girlfriend existed, she wouldn’t have to worry about Dante for long, not when Rose fully intended to shove him off the nearest cliff. Really, she was doing the woman a favor. Who stood by and accepted their boyfriend going undercover to fuck someone else for months and then kidnapping that someone else and fingering them in the shower…?
This was not a productive line of thinking.
She’d lost the lede somewhere along the way. It didn’t matter if Dante had a whole house full of partners, because he wasn’t hers and she hated him. Yes, the aw
ful sensation in her chest was hate. That was all.
Ultimately, being naked in the same house as this man was the greater of two evils. She found some loungewear tucked back in a dresser in the corner and pulled on the yoga pants and tank top. A knitted sweater and wool socks finished the ensemble. As much as she hated to admit it, Dante was right. Now that they were out of the shower, the chill of the place had started to creep in.
She turned to find him watching her. He had on a pair of lounge pants and nothing else. The new scars on his shoulder and torso stood out in the stark light of the closet. Scars from where she shot him. A couple inches to the left and she would have hit something vital and killed him.
Good.
Right?
Yes, it had to be good, because Dante was the enemy, and Rose wasn’t foolish enough or sentimental enough to become entangled with the enemy. Even if he wasn’t lying about everything between them in the past being a lie, they had no future. Rose wasn’t her sisters, who would have more freedom in who they chose to partner romantically with. She was the heir. As this mess showed, her choices had consequences that would ripple out through New York and beyond. If Dante got his way and she agreed to marry him… Coming home with his ring on her finger guaranteed war. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t.
She needed to find a way out of this trap and get home to do damage control. She did not need to be staring at the carved lines of her enemy’s abs and the dusting of hair across his chest. Dante had to die. That was all there was to it. It was the only hope they had of salvaging this situation and preventing a war with the Capparellis. Yes, it would undoubtedly spark a conflict with the Verducci family, but ultimately they were across the country from New York. Better to negate the threat in their backyard first and worry about the rest later.
She had to be the one to pull the trigger, too. Her reputation would have taken a huge hit with this kidnapping bullshit, and letting anyone else enact her revenge would make her look even weaker. Rose needed to save herself and eliminate Dante Verducci once and for all.
This time, she wouldn’t miss.
Chapter 9
Dante didn’t like the change that came over Rose’s expression. He’d been making headway, between the orgasm and nearly teasing her into a laugh despite herself. Not to mention her jealousy. He hadn’t expected that, but it delighted him all the same. If she cared enough to be jealous, then she cared. No matter how steep the odds, if there wasn’t a zero percent chance of him winning her over, he could work with it.
But whatever she was thinking about now had the shutters rising in her eyes again. She turned without a word and marched out of the closet. Dante bit back a curse. Ah well. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither would Rose Romanov be conquered in a day.
As tempting as it was to follow her, he had other priorities that needed attending to at the moment. He waited, listening to Rose’s footsteps move through the bedroom and down the hall. Only once he was certain she wouldn’t change her mind and return did he duck into the bathroom and retrieve the gun and clip. Dante returned to the closet and reached past his suit jackets to press the button cleverly hidden in the back of the closet. The panel gave with a quiet snick. He cast one last glance at the door and then ducked through the clothing and into the panic room.
Once he was closed in, he turned and surveyed the space. He wasn’t the overly paranoid type normally, but out here, anything could happen. This wasn’t his home territory, where the people in his world knew him on sight and knew better than to fuck with him. He didn’t have Lorenzo’s people around as potential backup should things go sideways. As a result, he’d taken precautions when he had this place built.
This room was one of them.
It was small and reinforced. Once inside and secured, nothing short of a tank could breach it. Not before reinforcements arrived. There were enough MREs and water stored to last a week or so, but he doubted it would ever come to that. No one knew this place existed except him and Matteo.
The trio of screens showed video from the cameras positioned around the exterior. Just a bunch of various woodland plants and creatures. He took a few minutes to key the motion sensor so if anything larger than a midsize animal approached, he’d get a ping on his watch. There were plenty of deer in the area, so it’d probably be a pain in the ass, but considering the circumstances, the early warning system was necessary.
Before he could devote all his time to seducing Rose back to his side, properly this time, there were tasks that needed to be completed. He considered his options and went with the easiest call first.
“You’re in trouble now, cugino.”
He nearly rolled his eyes at Matteo’s amusement. His cousin was a good leader, but the side he showed Dante was pure chaos. “Your father sent me to New York. What did he think was going to happen?”
“That the Romanov girl would annoy you and you’d snap her neck.”
The thought of a world without Rose Romanov in it sent a burst of repulsion through him. No matter what lengths she went to, how hard she fought, how much she snarled and snapped and fought, only one fact mattered. She was his. If it took a month or ten years, she’d admit it eventually. In the meantime, he would ensure no one else laid a finger on her. “She’s mine.”
Matteo snorted. “Yeah, I thought you might say something like that. My father doesn’t care. She was going to marry the Capparelli heir, so he wants her dead.”
“Then I’ll kill him before you have a chance to.”
All joking bled out of his cousin’s voice. “No. It’s not time.”
“Then you better keep him on a leash.” Dante was content to let his cousin play his deeper game, but only as long as Lorenzo didn’t try to follow through on the threat against Rose. He’d allow no one, not Lorenzo, not Dmitri Romanov, not the gods themselves to take his woman from him.
His cousin sighed. “You couldn’t have waited a few weeks for this? You’ve upset the balance. Kirill is back, and he’s threatening to ignite the conflict between our families again if you don’t return the woman immediately.”
“Lorenzo must be thrilled. He wants nothing more than to go out in a blaze of glory.”
“Not at the expense of our people and territory,” Matteo snapped. “You’ve endangered both.”
He glanced at the monitors. He respected the fuck out of his cousin. Matteo was probably the only person in this life he actually cared about. Well, Matteo and now Rose. He understood his cousin’s desire do right by their people, but Dante didn’t feel the same push. “This will be over shortly.”
“And then what? You can’t honestly think the Romanovs are going to be happy, even if you manage to convince her to see things your way.”
Frankly, he didn’t give a fuck what the Romanovs thought, but he knew better than to say as much. “Once things are settled with Rose, it will become a family affair between me and the New York Romanovs. Kirill will back off.” The man was getting old, and he was tired. Unlike Lorenzo who wanted to escalate things as the years passed, Kirill seemed to want to enjoy his last decade or so in this world with booze, women, and good food. He wouldn’t push things unless someone forced the issue.
“You don’t have much time.”
“Keep your father from escalating things. As long as he doesn’t push Kirill too far, it’ll settle as soon as this is sorted”
Matteo sighed. “Why not ask for the moon while you’re at it?”
“You could always kill him now and be done with it.”
“Not yet.” Ice slid into his cousin’s tone. “Some of the old guard is being resistant to the idea of change.”
“So, kill them, too.”
His cousin snorted. “I’ll think about it. Stay safe.”
“You, too.” He hung up and planted his hands on the counter. If Lorenzo fucked this up for him, Dante would ensure he suffered before Matteo finally put a bullet between his eyes. Kirill getting pissy wasn’t outside the realm of expectation. The Romanovs truly lik
ed the fantasy that they were loyal to each other and just as clannish as the O’Malleys were. It was a lie.
Thirty years ago, Dmitri Romanov nearly got snuffed out by his own people. He’d made too many mistakes with the O’Malleys and had gone soft for the youngest sister. Marrying her initially stayed Mother Russia’s hand, and then there was a conflict in Texas that turned their gaze away from New York for a few years. By the time they circled back, Dmitri and Keira were stable and ruling a healthy territory. Above reproach, even for the likes of Jovan Romanov.
Even with all the research Dante did into the New York Romanov family, he still wasn’t sure if Dmitri realized how close he’d come to being ground to dust beneath the boot of his extended family. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Studying history made the future predictable. Which was how he could recite the next phone call almost without making it. Unfortunately, some things simply had to be done. He dug one of the burner phones out of the drawer full of them and called Dmitri Romanov.
As suspected, the man himself answered. “Romanov.” A faint Russian accent flavored the word.
“I thought we should have a discussion.”
Silence for a beat. Two. “Am I to assume I’m speaking with Dante Verducci?”
“Si.”
“You have some balls to call me after what you’ve done.”
Dante grinned. He respected the fuck out of Dmitri. He ruled his territory with an iron fist but never escalated violence unnecessarily. He was smart enough to know that making a messy example of a single enemy was more effective than all the threats in the world. Most importantly, he treated Rose well.
Or he had up until strong-arming her into the bullshit marriage with Romeo Capparelli.
Dante’s smile died. “As I told your daughter, let’s not throw stones from glass houses. When you move in the world we do, the rules are different. You terrorized the O’Malley family and ultimately blackmailed your now-wife into marrying you. How is that different from what I’ve done?”
