19. Chapter 19 Natalie

Chapter 19 Natalie

T he puppy's warm weight in my lap is a small comfort in this gilded cage. I stroke his silky fur, my fingers tracing the brindle patterns as I stare out the window at Shadowcrest's manicured grounds. The world beyond feels like a distant dream, a fading memory I can't quite grasp.

A burst of laughter from the TV catches my attention. It's some inane talk show, the host grinning as he announces the date. My breath catches, a sharp pain lancing through my chest.

Dad's birthday. How could I have forgotten?

The puppy whines, sensing my distress. I clutch him closer, burying my face in his fur to muffle the sob that threatens to escape. Dad. My rock, my protector. The only person who ever truly understood me. And now...

"Well, well. What's this?"

Dante's silken voice cuts through my reverie like a knife. I stiffen, hastily wiping away the tears that have escaped. When did he enter the room? How long has he been watching me?

"Nothing," I mutter, not meeting his eyes. "Just... thinking."

He moves closer, his presence a looming shadow that threatens to swallow me whole. "Thinking about what, solnyshko? You seem... distressed."

I swallow hard, weighing my options. Lying to Dante is dangerous - he has an uncanny ability to sniff out deceit. But telling the truth... that carries its own risks.

"It's my dad's birthday," I finally whisper, the words feeling like broken glass in my throat. "I just... I miss him."

Dante goes very still, the air around us growing thick with tension. When he speaks, his voice is deceptively soft. "Your father? The man who failed to protect you, who let you fall into my hands so easily?"

Anger flares in my chest, hot and bright. "He didn't know! He would never have let this happen if-"

"If what?" Dante cuts me off, his tone sharp as a razor. "If he'd bothered to pay attention? If he'd cared enough to keep you safe?"

I flinch, his words striking too close to the doubts that have plagued me in my darkest moments. "That's not fair," I protest weakly. "He loves me."

Dante's laugh is cold and humorless. "Love? Oh, my naive little bird. If that's what you call love, then you have no idea what true devotion looks like."

He crouches down in front of me, his dark eyes boring into mine. "I could show you, Natalie. I could give you a love so all-consuming it would make you forget your own name."

A shiver runs down my spine, equal parts fear and... something else. Something I don't want to name.

"Please," I whisper, hating the desperation in my voice. "Just... let me call him. Just for a few minutes. I need to hear his voice, to know he's okay."

For a moment, I think I see a flicker of something softer in Dante's eyes. But then it's gone, replaced by a cold fury that makes my blood run cold.

"No," he says, his voice like ice. "You will never speak to him again. You will never even think of him again. Do you understand me?"

Tears blur my vision, hot and stinging. "You can't do this," I choke out. "You can't just erase my past, my family-"

His hand shoots out, gripping my chin with bruising force. "I can do whatever I want," he hisses. "You are mine now, Natalie. Mine to shape, to mold, to recreate as I see fit. And I will not tolerate any lingering attachments to your old life."

I wrench away from his grip, anger and grief warring inside me. "I hate you," I spit, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. "I'll always hate you for this."

Something dark and dangerous flashes in Dante's eyes. "Hate me all you want, tiny raven. It changes nothing. You're mine, now and forever. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

He straightens, smoothing down his impeccable suit. "Now, it's time for dinner. I expect you downstairs in ten minutes, properly dressed and ready to eat."

With that, he turns and strides from the room, leaving me trembling in his wake. The puppy whimpers, nuzzling against my hand. I stroke his head absently, my mind a whirlwind of pain and fury.

How dare he? How dare he try to erase everything that makes me who I am?

In that moment, a cold resolve settles over me. I won't let him win. I won't let him break me down and rebuild me in his image.

I will find a way to escape this nightmare. No matter the cost.

Ten minutes later, I descend the grand staircase, my movements stiff and robotic. I've donned one of the designer dresses Dante insists on filling my closet with - a deep blue silk that clings to my curves like a second skin. My hair is pulled back in a severe chignon, my face a blank mask of compliance.

Dante waits at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes raking over me with predatory appreciation. "Beautiful," he murmurs, offering his arm. "You clean up well, moy voron."

I take his arm without a word, letting him lead me to the opulent dining room. The table is set for two, crystal and silver glinting in the soft candlelight. It's a scene straight out of a romantic movie - if you ignore the fact that he kidnapped me.

We take our seats, and servers appear as if by magic, placing covered dishes before us. Dante watches me expectantly as I lift the silver dome, revealing a perfectly cooked filet mignon, surrounded by roasted vegetables.

My stomach turns at the sight. The meat, pink and glistening, looks obscene in its decadence. I can't bring myself to touch it.

"Eat," Dante commands, his voice brooking no argument.

I pick up my fork, pushing the food around my plate without taking a bite. "I'm not hungry," I mutter, not meeting his eyes.

"Natalie." His tone carries a warning. "You will eat. Now."

I shake my head, a spark of defiance flaring in my chest. "No. I told you, I'm not-"

In a flash, Dante is out of his seat, looming over me. Before I can react, he's gripping my jaw, forcing my mouth open. With his other hand, he scoops up a forkful of meat and shoves it between my lips.

"Chew," he growls, his fingers digging into my cheeks. "Swallow. Now."

Tears spring to my eyes as I struggle to obey, the food turning to vinegar in my mouth. I gag, fighting the urge to spit it out.

"Good girl," Dante purrs, his grip loosening slightly. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He repeats the process, force-feeding me bite after bite until my plate is clean. By the end, I'm trembling, tears streaming down my face. I feel violated, humiliated in a way I didn't think possible.

Dante sits back, satisfaction gleaming in his dark eyes. "There. Was that really worth all the fuss?"

I say nothing, my gaze fixed on the tablecloth. Inside, I'm seething, a volcano of rage threatening to erupt.

He sighs, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face. I flinch away from his touch. "Oh, solnyshko. When will you learn? Life would be so much easier if you'd just submit. If you'd just accept your place by my side."

"Never," I whisper, the word barely audible. "I'll never submit to you."

A dark chuckle escapes him. "We'll see about that. Now, go upstairs and get ready. We have a gala to attend tonight."

My head snaps up, surprise momentarily overriding my anger. "A gala? What are you talking about?"

Dante's smile is all teeth, no warmth. "Did I forget to mention? One of your paintings is being auctioned off for charity tonight. And as the artist, your presence is not just requested, but required."

A chill runs down my spine. The thought of being paraded around like a prized pet, forced to schmooze with Dante's elite circle, makes my skin crawl. But I know better than to refuse outright. Instead, I force a brittle smile. "How... thoughtful of you to inform me at the last minute. What shall I wear to this grand event?"

His eyes glitter with dark amusement. "Oh, I've taken care of that. Your gown awaits in your room. I think you'll find it... suitable."

An hour later, I'm staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me. The gown Dante has chosen is a masterpiece of sin and seduction - blood-red silk that clings to every curve, with a neckline that plunges dangerously low and a slit that climbs obscenely high. Diamonds drip from my ears and encircle my throat - a collar of wealth and possession.

I look like a mafia princess, a kept woman. Dante's most prized piece.

The door opens behind me, and I watch in the mirror as Dante enters. His eyes rake over me, hunger and satisfaction plain on his face. "Exquisite," he purrs, coming to stand behind me. His hands settle on my hips, proprietary and possessive. "You'll be the belle of the ball, solnyshko. The jewel of my empire."

I meet his gaze in the mirror, steeling myself. "And what if I refuse? What if I don't feel like playing dress-up and making nice with your sycophants tonight?"

His grip tightens, fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to bruise. "Oh, Natalie," he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. "Still clinging to the illusion of choice? When will you learn that my desires are not requests, but commands?"

He spins me to face him, one hand coming up to cradle my face in a mockery of tenderness. "You will attend the gala. You will smile, and charm, and dazzle the crowds with your beauty and talent. And when the time comes, when I tire of the charade and ache to possess you once more?" His thumb traces my lower lip, his eyes burning with dark promise. "You will come to me, eager and willing, begging for my touch."

I swallow hard, fighting the traitorous shiver that runs through me at his words. "I'm not your plaything," I whisper, but the protest sounds weak even to my own ears.

Dante's smile is slow and predatory. "Oh, but you are, moy voron. You're my masterpiece, my greatest creation. And tonight, the whole world will see it."

The gala is everything I feared and more - a dizzying whirl of opulence and excess. The great and wicked of Dante's world preen and posture, their smiles as false as their hearts. I cling to his arm, playing my part even as my skin crawls at their appraising looks and the whispers that follow in our wake.

"Exquisite," they murmur, their eyes devouring me. "Corleone's done it again, bagged himself a true masterpiece."

I grit my teeth, bile rising at the casual objectification. To them, I'm nothing more than a possession, a pretty bauble to be coveted and displayed.

But even as I simmer with impotent rage, my eyes are scanning, searching for a chance. A lapse in Dante's iron control, a crack in the facade of this glittering nightmare. And then I see it - a glimmer of hope in the form of an unattended phone, carelessly left on a table by a tipsy guest.

My heart pounds, adrenaline surging through my veins. It's risky, foolish even. But what choice do I have? To stay passive, compliant, slowly suffocating under Dante's control?

No. I'd rather burn than fade away.

I make my move when the auction begins, the buzz of excitement over my painting reaching a fevered pitch. Dante's attention is momentarily diverted, his focus drawn to the stage and the frenzy of bids.

It's now or never.

I slip away, my steps measured and casual. No one spares me a second glance, too caught up in the spectacle of wealth and power changing hands.

The phone is sleek and unfamiliar in my trembling hands. I punch in the number from memory, my breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

It rings once, twice. Come on, pick up, please god, pick-

"911, what's your emergency?"

The operator's voice is tiny and distant, but it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. A sob catches in my throat, relief and dread warring in my chest.

"Please," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I need help. I'm being held against my will, I'm-"

A hand closes over mine, vice-like and crushing. The phone clatters to the ground, my lifeline shattering with one ruthless squeeze.

"Tsk tsk," Dante murmurs, his breath hot on my neck. "Naughty girl, trying to run away from me."

He spins me to face him, his eyes black with barely contained fury. His grip on my arm is bruising, a brand of ownership.

"I-I wasn't," I stammer, my bravery withering under his glare. "I was just-"

"Lying," he hisses, his face a mask of cold rage. "Deceiving. Betraying me, after all I've done for you."

He drags me forward, his lips grazing my ear. "Did you think I wouldn't know? Did you think I'd let you out of my sight for even an instant? Oh, Natalie. Sweet, foolish Natalie. When will you learn?"

His grip tightens, a punishment and a promise. "You're mine. There is no escape, no sanctuary. Not from me. Not ever."

I tremble in his hold, my grand illusions of escape shattering like spun glass. He's right, has always been right. There's no outwitting him, no exploiting his weakness.

Because his only weakness... is me.

He leads me away from the crowd, grim purpose in his stride. I stumble along beside him, my earlier defiance giving way to creeping dread.

We end up in a small, shadowed room, far from the glittering opulence of the gala. Dante rounds on me, backing me against the wall, his hands braced on either side of my head. A cage of flesh and bone, as inescapable as any lock and key.

"This defiance ends now," he says, his voice deadly soft. "This is your last warning, moy voron. Next time you try to run, next time you break the rules?" His finger grazes my cheek, a touch like a razor's edge. "I won't be nearly so lenient."

I swallow hard, my mouth dry as parchment. "Lenient?" I rasp, hating the quaver in my voice. "Is that what you call this? Locking me up, crushing my every attempt at free will?"

His eyes flash, something dark and fathomless swirling in their depths. "Oh, Natalie," he sighs, shaking his head as if I've disappointed him. "You have no idea of the depths I'd sink to keep you. The dark delights I'd introduce you to, should you continue to defy me."

Dante's hand slips lower, grasping my throat in a grip that teeters on the edge between caress and asphyxiation. "I'd string you up like the work of art you are, trussed and trembling for my touch. You'd weep so sweetly as you writhed on my cock, your tears a seductive melody to my ears."

I stare up at him in mute horror, my mind rebelling against the lurid images he paints. I've always known he was a monster, but this... this is a new level of depravity, even for him.

"Why?" I whisper, my revulsion giving way to a dull, aching confusion. "Why me, Dante? Why do you want to possess me so badly? What did I do to deserve this... obsession?"

For a moment, something almost akin to surprise flickers across his chiseled features. As if he doesn't fully understand the depths of his desire, the driving need that propels him to such extremes.

But then it's gone, shuttered behind an icy mask of control once more. "Because you're mine," he growls, as if it's the only answer that matters. The only one that ever will. "Because you always have been, from the moment I first saw your work. Your broken, blackened soul."

He crushes his lips to mine, a brutal claiming that robs me of breath, of reason. I feel myself slipping under the onslaught of his desire, the twisted, fevered want that bleeds from him, thick and poisonous.

He jerks away as abruptly as he began, leaving me bereft, gasping. Straightens his suit with methodical precision, a predator tucking away its claws.

"Come," he says, extending the crook of his elbow. "We have an auction to conclude. And an after-party to attend, should I decide you've earned the privilege."

I sway on my feet, off-balance from the whiplash of his moods, the violence of his touch. Part of me longs to rebel, to spit in his face and refuse this charade of normalcy.

But a larger part, the wounded animal cowering in the dark of my heart, knows better. Knows the futility of resistance in the face of his unrelenting control.

So I take his arm, falling into step beside him like the perfect accessory I am. A doll, a decoration, a hollow shell slowly filling up with his poison.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur, my mind detached from the glittering fa?ade surrounding me. I smile when I should, utter the right platitudes, and even manage a few bright peals of laughter that only sound a little forced to my own ears.

But inside, I'm numb, retreating deeper into myself with each passing moment. Erecting walls around my tattered psyche, a desperate bid for self-preservation.

At least, until the ride home.

Dante is quiet as the Escalade purrs through the midnight streets, his profile sharp and unreadable against the strobing neon of the city's underbelly. I risk a glance at him through my lashes, trying to gauge his mood, the portent of what awaits me when we reach our gilded prison.

Will it be pain or pleasure that greets me when we cross the threshold? A brutal ravaging to punish my transgressions? Or a twisted form of affection, a reward for playing my part so well?

With Dante, it could be either. Could be both, the line between torment and ecstasy forever blurred in his monstrous makeup.

The tension mounts with each passing block, each red light stretching out the horrible anticipation. I feel like a livewire, my every nerve ending exposed and sizzling.

I can't take it anymore, this crushing silence. The not knowing. I'd almost prefer his cruelty to this maddening suspense.

So I do something foolish. Something reckless and ill-advised.

I open my mouth and bait the beast.

"Well, that was quite the show," I drawl, my voice steady despite the hammering of my heart. "Tell me, do you always prance your playthings around like prized poodles? Or am I just special?"

Dante's head snaps towards me, his eyes flashing in the half-light. For a moment, I think he might strike me, wrap his fingers around my throat and squeeze until I turn blue.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he smiles. A slow, sinister curl of the lips that chills me to the marrow.

"Oh, moy voron," he murmurs, his voice a silken purr. "You have no idea how special you are. How much I delight in showing you off, watching you dazzle and shimmer for my amusement."

He leans in closer, his breath ghosting across my cheek. "But never forget - you shine for me and me alone. Every glimmer, every spark, belongs to me. And I will snuff you out like a candle's flame should you forget your place."

I try to pull away, to put some distance between his hungry mouth and my jumping pulse. But my back hits the door, the handle jabbing painfully into my spine.

Trapped. Pinned like a butterfly to a collector's board.

"I know my place," I hiss, tilting my chin in a show of bravery I don't truly feel. "The unwilling prisoner of a madman. The victim of a monster who knows nothing of real love or loyalty."

Something dark and fathomless flickers in Dante's eyes, a chasm of unnamed emotion. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb pressing cruelly into the hollow beneath my cheekbone.

"You know nothing of what I feel for you," he rasps, his voice tight with some unfathomable tension. "The depths I would plumb, the depravities I would embrace, to keep you by my side. There is no limit to my obsession, no end to the lengths I'll go to make you mine in truth."

I stare at him, my heart a wild drum in my chest. It's the closest he's ever come to a confession, an acknowledgment of the twisted emotions that drive his every vice like a stake.

I want to recoil, to deny the black enormity of what he's professing. But some dark, damaged part of me revels in it, swoons at this sinister seduction.

For so long, I've thought myself unworthy of any form of love, tainted and broken by the cruel hand life dealt me.

But here, now, in the grip of a man more monstrous than any nightmare could conjure... I have never felt so wanted. So coveted, so wildly, violently desired.

It's a dark revelation, one that shakes me to my core.

I can't bear to be under his smoldering gaze another second.

I twist away and fumble at the handle.

I need to get out.

I need to run.

I need to escape this intoxicating undertow before I drown for good.

The door swings open, and I tumble out, my heels catching on the slick pavement. I hear Dante's shout, and feel the swipe of his fingers against my arm, grasping, claiming.

But I wrench free, the silk of my gown tearing with an audible rip.

Then I'm off, running into the night in an unthinking flight, my breath sawing in my lungs.

The valet stand is just ahead. I stumble towards it, my hair coming loose from its artful arrangement, my feet screaming in protest at the punishing pace. But I don't stop, the urge to flee overwhelming all else.

"Keys," I gasp, thrusting my hand out to the startled attendant. "Now, please, I need-"

But he's already backing away, his eyes wide with a fear that has nothing to do with me. No, his gaze is fixed over my shoulder, on the dark figure stalking towards us with predatory intent.

Dante. Of course it's Dante, his eyes black with fury, his mouth set in a grim line. He looks like vengeance personified, a dark god come to earth to mete out punishment.

Panic rises like bile in my throat. I can't go back, can't submit to his twisted desires, his cruel manipulations. Not again, not ever.

In a burst of desperate strength, I lunge for the key cabinet, my scrabbling fingers closing around the first set I touch. The attendant yelps, making a grab for me, but I slip past him, my feet flying across the pavement.

I slam into the car, a sleek black beast of an SUV, nearly dropping the key fob as my hands shake. The locks click open and I scramble inside, the plush leather interior enveloping me like a cocoon.

In the rearview mirror, I see Dante closing in, his strides long and purposeful. His face is a mask of cold anger, a promise of retribution etched in every harsh line.

I jab at the ignition button, the engine roaring to life beneath me. Throw the shifter into drive, my foot slamming down on the accelerator.

The SUV lurches forward, tires squealing against the asphalt. I hear a thud, a muffled curse, and glance back to see Dante sprawled on the ground, his suit torn and bloody.

A vicious thrill shoots through me at the sight. The predator brought low, if only for a moment.

But I don't have time to savor it. Already he's picking himself up, his eyes locking onto mine through the tinted glass. The promise in them steals my breath and chills my blood.

He will find me. He will catch me. And when he does...

I shudder, wrenching my gaze away. Focus on the road ahead, the blur of streetlights overhead.

I have to get away. Have to put as much distance as possible between myself and the monster wearing a man's skin.

But as I careen through the empty streets, my pulse a staccato drum in my ears, the reality of my situation sinks in with sickening clarity.

I have no money. No phone, no means of contacting anyone. I'm a woman alone, broken and battered, driving a stolen car through the most dangerous parts of the city.

And even if I could find help, even if I could evade Dante's clutches for more than a few gasping breaths... where would I go? What would I do?

The world beyond Shadowcrest's walls feels alien now, a place I no longer know how to navigate. Dante has consumed my existence so completely, I'm not sure who I am without him.