12. Chapter 12 Dante

Chapter 12 Dante

T he forest pulses around me, alive with moonlight and the thundering of my own heartbeat. Natalie's soft body is pressed against mine, her warmth a stark contrast to the cool night air. I can feel every tremor that runs through her, every aborted attempt to struggle free.

It's intoxicating.

"Boss?" Alonzo's voice cuts through the silence again, closer now. "You out there?"

I grit my teeth, frustration coiling in my gut. So close. We were so fucking close to shattering that final barrier, to Natalie finally surrendering completely. And now this.

"I've got her," I call back, tightening my grip on my prize. "Meet me back at the house."

I don't wait for a response. I've got more pressing matters to attend to. Like the squirming, furious woman in my arms.

Natalie bites down on my palm, hard enough to draw blood. I hiss, but don't loosen my hold. "Careful, moy voron," I growl against her ear. "You don't want to start a game you can't win."

She goes still at that, but I can practically feel the rage radiating off her in waves. Good. I'd rather have her fury than her indifference. Anger, I can work with. Anger, I can twist and mold until it becomes something else entirely.

The trek back to Shadowcrest seems to take an eternity and no time at all. With each step, I'm acutely aware of Natalie's soft curves pressed against me, of the way she clenches around my still-hard cock. It's maddening, this constant state of almost-there arousal.

By the time we emerge from the treeline, my control is hanging by a thread. Alonzo is waiting on the back terrace, his face carefully blank as he takes in our state of undress and compromising position.

"Everything's prepared, boss," he says, pointedly looking anywhere but at Natalie. "Do you need, uh, assistance?"

I shake my head sharply. "I've got this under control. Make sure we're not disturbed for the rest of the night. Clear?"

"Crystal." Alonzo nods, already backing away. Smart man.

As soon as he's gone, I release my hold on Natalie's mouth. She immediately starts cursing, a stream of creative invectives that would make a sailor blush. I can't help but chuckle.

"Such a filthy mouth on you, solnyshko," I murmur, nipping at her earlobe. "I think we need to put it to better use, don't you?"

Before she can retort, I'm moving. In three long strides, I have her pressed against the cool stone of Shadowcrest's exterior. She gasps at the contact, her back arching instinctively.

"Fuck you," she spits, but there's a breathy quality to her voice that betrays her.

I grin, rolling my hips against her. "Oh, I intend to. Thoroughly and repeatedly."

With that, I claim her mouth in a bruising kiss. This is a battle for dominance, a clash of wills made physical. Natalie fights me for all of two seconds before melting into it, her hands coming up to tangle in my hair.

I growl my approval, deepening the kiss as I hitch her legs higher around my waist. The new angle has me sliding even deeper inside her, and we both groan at the sensation.

"That's it," I pant against her throat, setting a punishing pace. "Take what you need, Natalie. Take everything I'm giving you."

She whimpers, her nails raking down my back hard enough to draw blood. "I hate you," she gasps out, even as her hips buck to meet my thrusts.

"Liar," I growl, nipping at her pulse point. "Your body doesn't lie, solnyshko. It knows who it belongs to."

I can feel her teetering on the edge, her inner walls fluttering around me. Just a little more, and she'll shatter completely. I slide a hand between us, finding her clit with unerring accuracy.

"Come for me," I demand, my voice rough with need. "Let go, Natalie. Let me see you fall apart."

It's like flipping a switch. Natalie cries out, her whole body going taut as her orgasm crashes over her. The sight of her coming undone is enough to push me over the edge. I bury my face in her neck, muffling my roar of completion as I spill inside her.

For a long moment, we stay like that, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Then reality comes crashing back, and Natalie starts to struggle.

"Let me go," she hisses, shoving at my chest. "Get off me, you psycho!"

I pull back just enough to meet her gaze, drinking in the delicious cocktail of fury and reluctant desire I see there. "Now, now," I tsk, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair from her face. "Is that any way to talk to the man who just gave you the best orgasm of your life?"

She flushes, a mix of anger and embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "You're delusional. That was – it didn't mean anything."

"Keep telling yourself that, moy voron," I chuckle, finally setting her down. "Maybe one day you'll actually believe it."

I take a moment to admire the picture she makes – hair mussed, skin flushed, my cum trickling down her thighs. She's never looked more beautiful, more utterly mine.

"Come," I say, offering her my hand. "Let's get you cleaned up and settled in. You've had quite the adventurous night."

Natalie eyes my hand like it's a venomous snake. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she spits. "I'd rather sleep in the fucking forest."

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Always so difficult. Have it your way, then."

In one smooth motion, I scoop her up and throw her over my shoulder. She shrieks, pounding her fists against my back as I carry her inside.

"Put me down, you Caveman!" she yells, kicking ineffectually.

I land a sharp smack on her ass, relishing her outraged gasp. "Behave," I warn, "or I'll have to take more drastic measures."

She falls silent at that, though I can feel the waves of hatred radiating off her. It only serves to stoke the fire of my obsession.

When we reach the master suite, I deposit her none too gently on the bed. She immediately scrambles backwards, putting as much distance between us as possible.

"Now then," I purr, crawling onto the bed. "Where were we?"

The next few hours pass in a blur of sensation. I take Natalie again and again, in every position imaginable. I wring orgasm after orgasm from her trembling body until she's an incoherent, boneless mess.

And still, it's not enough. I want more. I want everything.

As dawn breaks, I finally allow myself to succumb to exhaustion. I gather Natalie's limp form against me, burying my face in her hair.

"Mine," I murmur, more to myself than to her. "All mine."

She doesn't respond, already lost to sleep. But that's alright. I have all the time in the world to make her see the truth of my words.

The next few weeks are a delicate dance as I keep Natalie off-balance, never letting her settle into a routine. Some days, I'm the doting captor – bringing her breakfast in bed, showering her with gifts and tender touches. Other days, I'm the cold, ruthless don she first met – leaving her alone for hours, acknowledging her only with clipped commands and icy stares.

Through it all, I watch. I wait. I catalog every minute reaction, every flicker of emotion that crosses her expressive face.

But Natalie proves to be more resilient than I anticipated. No matter how I alternately pamper and punish her, that stubborn spark of defiance refuses to die. She fights me at every turn – hurling insults, attempting to escape, even trying to turn my staff against me.

It's maddening. Infuriating. And so fucking arousing I can barely think straight.

One month into her captivity, I decide it's time for more drastic measures. I enter her room unannounced, finding her curled up with a book from my library.

"Get dressed," I order, tossing a garment bag onto the bed. "We're going out."

Natalie eyes the bag warily. "Out where?"

I smile, slow and predatory. "You'll see. Now be a good girl and put on the dress, or I'll do it for you."

For a moment, I think she might refuse. But then she snatches up the bag and disappears into the bathroom. When she emerges, my breath catches in my throat.

The dress is a work of art – blood red silk that clings to every curve, the neckline plunging dangerously low. She looks like sin incarnate, a dark goddess born from the depths of my twisted fantasies.

"Beautiful," I murmur, drinking in the sight of her. "Now, let's go. We have a party to attend."

Natalie's eyes widen. "A party? You can't be serious."

I grab her arm, pulling her close. "Oh, I'm very serious, moy voron. It's time to show the world who you belong to."

The party is in full swing by the time we arrive. The cream of New York's criminal underworld mills about, sipping champagne and trading veiled threats disguised as pleasantries.

All eyes turn to us as we enter. I can feel the weight of their stares – the men's lust, the women's envy. Natalie shrinks closer to me, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.

I lean down, my lips brushing her ear. "Smile, darling. You're the star of the show tonight."

I lead Natalie through the crowd, reveling in the jealous glances and hushed whispers that follow in our wake. She's a vision in that red dress, a ruby among coal. My prize, my possession, on display for all to see.

"Dante, my boy!" a booming voice calls out. I turn to see Don Vittorio approaching, his eyes gleaming with avarice as they rove over Natalie. "Who's this exquisite creature?"

I feel Natalie tense beside me, her grip on my arm tightening. I pull her closer, a clear message to the old lecher. "This is Natalie," I say smoothly. "My fiancée."

The lie rolls off my tongue easily, and I feel a dark satisfaction at Natalie's sharp intake of breath. She opens her mouth, no doubt to protest, but I silence her with a squeeze to her waist. A warning.

"Fiancée?" Vittorio raises an eyebrow. "I hadn't heard you were betrothed. Congratulations are in order, then!"

He reaches for Natalie's hand, clearly intending to kiss it. But I intercept, shaking his hand firmly instead. "Thank you," I say, my tone leaving no room for argument. "We're keeping things quiet for now. I'm sure you understand."

Vittorio's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Of course, of course. Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds to it. Enjoy the party."

As soon as he's out of earshot, Natalie rounds on me. "Fiancée?" she hisses. "What the fuck, Dante?"

I grab her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. "Play along," I growl. "Unless you'd prefer I tell them the truth – that you're my captive, my plaything to do with as I please?"

She pales, swallowing hard. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," I challenge, my grip tightening. "Now smile, darling. We have appearances to keep up."

For the next hour, we make the rounds. I introduce Natalie as my fiancée to anyone who matters, watching with dark amusement as she struggles to maintain the charade. She's good – I'll give her that. To the casual observer, we must look like any other couple in love.

But I can feel the tension thrumming through her body, see the panic lurking behind her eyes. It's intoxicating.

As the night wears on, I grow bolder. My hands wander, stroking her sides, cupping her ass. She tries to pull away, but I hold her fast.

"Dance with me," I murmur, leading her to the dance floor before she can protest.

I pull her flush against me as a slow song starts up. One hand splays across her lower back, the other tangling in her hair. Natalie's hands rest on my chest, not quite embracing me, but not pushing me away either.

"You're doing so well," I praise, my lips brushing her ear. "Such a good little actress."

She shivers, whether from revulsion or desire, I can't tell. "I hate you," she whispers, but there's no real venom in it.

I chuckle, spinning her out and then pulling her back in sharply. "No, you don't," I counter. "You know you want me. Crave my cock."

"You're delusional," she snaps, but I can feel the way her body responds to mine, the way she melts into my touch despite herself.

"Am I?" I challenge, sliding my thigh between her legs. She gasps, her hips rocking instinctively. "Your body doesn't lie, Natalie. It knows who it belongs to."

Before she can retort, a commotion near the entrance catches my attention. I look up to see a group of men in suits pushing their way through the crowd. My eyes narrow as I recognize their leader – Viktor Petrov, head of the Russian mob and my biggest rival.

"What's wrong?" Natalie asks, sensing the change in my demeanor.

I pull her closer, shielding her with my body. "Nothing for you to worry about, moy voron. Just some uninvited guests."

Viktor spots me then, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He makes his way towards us, his men flanking him like attack dogs.

"Dante Corleone," he drawls, his accent thick. "What a pleasure to see you here. And who is this lovely lady?"

I feel Natalie stiffen in my arms, her breath coming faster. I stroke her back soothingly, even as I meet Viktor's gaze with steel in my own.

"My fiancée," I say coolly. "Natalie, this is Viktor Petrov. An... associate of mine."

Viktor's eyes gleam with interest. "Fiancée? How interesting. I hadn't heard you were engaged, Dante. You must allow me to congratulate the happy couple properly."

He reaches for Natalie's hand, but I intercept, gripping his wrist with bruising force. "That won't be necessary," I say, my voice low and dangerous.

For a moment, we stand there, locked in a silent battle of wills. The air crackles with tension, the entire room holding its breath.

Then Viktor laughs, the sound grating on my nerves. "Always so possessive, Dante. Very well, keep your pretty bird to yourself. But remember – even the most gilded cage can be broken into."

With that, he and his men melt back into the crowd. I watch them go, my jaw clenched so tight it aches.

"Dante?" Natalie's voice is small, uncertain. "What was that about?"

I turn to her, cupping her face in my hands. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with," I say, forcing a smile. "Come, it's time we were leaving."

As we make our way to the exit, I catch sight of Viktor watching us from across the room. The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. He's planning something, I'm sure of it.

The ride back to Shadowcrest is tense, silent. Natalie sits as far from me as the backseat allows, staring out the window. I can practically hear the gears turning in her head.

When we arrive, I escort her to her room. She pauses at the threshold, turning to face me.

"Thank you," she says softly. "For... for not telling them the truth. About what I really am to you."

For a moment, I'm thrown. This isn't the reaction I expected. "You're welcome," I say cautiously. "But don't mistake it for kindness, Natalie. You're mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you."

She nods, a sad smile playing at her lips. "I know. Goodnight, Dante."

As I watch her disappear into her room, I'm struck by a realization that shakes me to my core. Tonight, for the first time since I brought her here, Natalie didn't try to escape. Didn't fight me at every turn.

Is it progress? Or just another move in this twisted game we're playing?

I head to my study, pouring myself a generous measure of scotch. As I sip the amber liquid, I can't shake the feeling that something fundamental has shifted between us.

The question is – who's really winning? And at what cost?