29. Chapter 29 Natalie

Chapter 29 Natalie

T he morning sun caresses my skin as I step into the villa's lush garden, a welcome reprieve from the shadows inside - both literal and figurative. Enzo is already there, kneeling amidst the beds of vibrant blooms, hands buried in dark soil. He looks up at my approach, a warm smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"Buongiorno, Natalie! Care to join an old man and help tend these beauties?"

I hesitate, weighing the indulgence of a stolen moment of peace against the risk of rousing Dante's ire. But the sweet fragrance of the roses beckons, an intoxicating lure I'm powerless to resist.

"I'd like that," I murmur, returning his smile as I kneel beside him. The rich earth is cool and damp against my palms, grounding me in the present.

"Ah, you're a natural, bella!" Enzo praises as I carefully loosen the soil around a rosebush heavy with scarlet blooms. "There's something soul-soothing about coaxing life and beauty from the ground, no?"

"My father used to say gardening was an act of faith," I reply softly, the memory rising unbidden. "A belief that with love and care, even the most barren earth can bloom."

"Sounds like a wise man, your papà."

"He was." I swallow hard against the sudden ache in my throat. "He is. At least, I hope..."

Enzo watches me carefully, shrewd gaze missing nothing. "You worry for him."

It's not a question, but I nod anyway, blinking back the prickling heat in my eyes. "I haven't spoken to him since... since Dante."

Since my entire world was swallowed in shadows and sin.

Enzo makes a thoughtful noise, dusting the dirt from his hands. "Perhaps... perhaps it would ease your mind to reach out to him, hmm? Reassure yourself that he is well."

I bark a humorless laugh. "And risk bringing Dante's wrath down on us both? I can't... he's all I have left, Enzo."

"Ah, mia cara." Enzo rests a gentle hand on my shoulder. "A father's love is not so easily extinguished. And even the fiercest storm cannot rage forever."

He slips a small phone into my dirt-streaked palm, curling my fingers over it. "Call him, Natalie. Hear his voice. Remember the girl you were before the world taught you to fear its shadows."

My heart pounds a frantic staccato against my ribs as I stare down at the phone, innocuous and damning in equal measure. Dare I defy the devil himself for a chance to cling to the rapidly fraying threads of my humanity?

In the end, my desperation decides for me. With shaking hands, I dial the achingly familiar number, praying Dante is still occupied with whatever fresh hell he's unleashed on our enemies.

One ring. Two. Three.

"Pick up," I whisper, a broken plea. "Please, Daddy, pick up..."

Four. Five.

Voicemail.

The tinny recording of my father's warm baritone is a knife to the chest. I end the call before the beep, tears blurring the garden into Monet smears of color.

Enzo takes one look at my ravaged expression and pulls me into a fierce embrace, heedless of the dirt I smear on his crisp linen shirt.

"Oh, piccola, I am so sorry," he murmurs into my hair.

I cling to him, this kind man who's shown me more fatherly affection in a few short weeks than Dante ever has. "What if something happened to him, Enzo? What if Dante..."

I can't finish the thought, bile rising in my throat. Would Dante be so cruel, so calculating, as to eliminate the last tie to my old life? To erase any hope of escape from this gilded nightmare?

I already know the answer. Mon dieu, I wish I didn't.

"Shh, no tears now, eh?" Enzo tips my chin up, his smile impossibly gentle. "You're stronger than you know, Natalie. A true survivor, like the roses. Relentless in their determination to thrive, even in the harshest conditions."

I wish I could believe him. But with every passing day, I feel less the rose and more the damaged goods Dante's so intent on molding me into.

The moment shatters like fuckin' glass at the sound of his voice, dark and deadly.

"Interrupting something, am I?"

Enzo and I spring apart like teenagers caught necking by an overprotective father. Which, I suppose, isn't far from the fucking truth, considering Dante's twisted proclivities. Dante's imposing 6'2" frame filled the doorway, his olive skin gleaming in the low light. The intricate tattoos on his muscular arms seemed to writhe as he moved. His obsidian eyes, set deep in his chiseled face, bore into me with an intensity that made my breath catch.

The man himself stands at the garden's edge, pristine in his black-on-black suit, a cruel sneer twisting his cruel beautiful mouth. "Natalie. Inside. Now."

Every cell in my body screams to comply, to run headfirst into the lion's den if it means wiping that homicidal glare from his face. But some last, recklessly defiant part of me hesitates, spine stiffening with a vertebrae at a time.

Enzo, God bless him, tries to intercede. "Dante, amico, it was just a bit of gardening between friends, nothing to upset yourself over--"

"I don't recall asking for your input, Enzo." Dante's gaze never leaves mine, stripping me bare and flaying me alive in turn. "In fact, I don't recall giving you permission to be alone with my woman at all."

My nostrils flare, the frayed leash on my temper snapping like a gunshot. "I'm not your fucking property, dickhead toro! Jesus Christ, one nice capo and look at you, puffed up like a wet meatball in the sun, si?!"

The temperature plummets and Dante freezes, black eyes going impossibly blacker as he slowly cocks his head. "What did you just say to me, puttana?"

Oh fuck. Abort, Natalie, abort--

But in for a penny, in for a pound of Italian megalomaniac flesh. I toss my hair over my shoulder and meet Dante's arctic gaze head-on, a small feral smile pulling at my lips.

"Ti ho chiamato un cazzone, amore. I know your ears are getting old but try to keep up, eh?"

Enzo makes a strangled noise and edging away slowly, recognizing the oncoming hurricane. Dante's lips peel back from his teeth in the fakest fucking grin I've seen this side of a political debate.

"You have a big mouth for such a piccola topa. Perhaps it is time I reminded you of your fucking place."

He glides for me, a black mamba striking from the shadows. I barely have time to draw breath before he's on me, one hand clamping bruisingly hard on my arm as he drags me back toward the villa.

"Dante, figlio, think before you--"

But Enzo's entreaty falls on deaf ears as Dante hauls me through the French doors in a mockery of a gentleman on the promenade with his lady. I spit curses and claw at his grip, but it's like trying to move a mountain - immovable and implacable as he pulls me to our chambers.

The door slams shut, the sound ricocheting through the room like a gunshot. I whirl to face Dante, my heart jackhammering against my ribs as his dark gaze rakes over me, predatory and assessing.

"What the hell was that about?" I demand, channeling my fear into bravado. "Enzo and I were just talking, for fuck's sake."

Dante stalks closer, a panther on the prowl. "Talking? Is that what we're calling it now, solnyshko?" His voice is soft, dangerous. "Because from where I was standing, it looked an awful lot like you were seeking comfort in another man's arms."

I scoff, even as a shiver runs down my spine. "Don't be ridiculous. Enzo's old enough to be my father."

Something dark and possessive flashes in Dante's eyes. "Ah, yes. Dear old Dad." He crowds into my space, backing me up until my thighs hit the edge of the mattress. "Tell me, did you enjoy your little phone call? Did it make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, hearing Daddy's voice?"

My breath catches, icy realization crystalizing in my veins. "You knew. How...?"

Dante smirks, a cruel twist of his sensual mouth. "Oh, moy voron. Haven't you learned by now? I know everything that happens within these walls. Every word, every action, every treacherous little thought that flits through that pretty head of yours."

Anger surges through me, hot and potent. "You had no right! That was private, you fucking psycho!"

The slap cracks across my cheek before I even register him moving, snapping my head to the side with the force of it. I gasp, more from shock than pain, my hand flying up to cup my stinging flesh.

Dante grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "You have no rights, Natalie. No privacy, no secrets, no thoughts or feelings that don't belong to me. I own every fuckin' inch of you, inside and out."

Tears blur my vision, equal parts fury and humiliation. "Fuck you, you sick bastard. I'm not your goddamn property!"

His laugh is low, mocking. "Still clinging to that defiance, hmm? Even after all this time, all the ways I've claimed you?" His hand slides down, fingertips grazing the side of my throat. "Well, if you won't accept it willingly, I suppose I'll just have to fuck it into you. Again and again, until it's seared into your very bones."

My pulse pounds beneath his touch, fear and arousal twisting in my gut. "Dante, don't. I'm sorry, okay? I won't do it again, I swear-"

"Too late for that, solnyshko." He shoves me back onto the bed, crawling over me with leonine grace. "You need a reminder of who you belong to, of what you are."

"And what's that?" The words slip out, barely a whisper.

Dante's smile is razored, ruthless. "Mine. Now and forever, in every way that matters."

Then his mouth is on me, brutally insistent. I whimper into the kiss, torn between resistance and shameful desire as he takes, plunders, his tongue sweeping into my mouth like he's trying to consume me whole.

His hands are everywhere, roughly palming my breasts, hiking up my skirt to delve between my thighs. I hear the rip of lace, feel the cool air on my exposed flesh a split second before his fingers thrust into my traitorous heat.

"Always so fucking wet for me," Dante growls against my lips. "No matter how hard you fight it, this needy little cunt knows its master."

"Gonna fill this pussy up," he pants, each word punctuated by a jagged snap of his pelvis. "Plant my seed deep in your belly, Natalie. Breed you like the bitch in heat you are."

Horror crashes over me, turning my blood to ice. "No!" I gasp, even as my treacherous cunt clenches around him. "I won't let you, Dante. I'll never give you a child, you fucking psycho!"

His eyes darken, a dangerous glint flashing through them, but I can’t stop myself. The anger, the fear—it all comes spilling out. "I would never bring a child into this world, especially not with you as its father."

For a moment, the room is deathly still. Then, in a flash, his hand cracks across my face, the force of the slap nearly knocking me off my feet. My cheek stings with the heat of the blow, but the pain only fuels my anger.

"You think you can talk to me like that?" Dante’s voice is a growl, his hand gripping my chin, forcing me to look into those cold, merciless eyes.

His lips curl into a cruel smile, and he leans in closer, his breath hot against my skin. "You really think you’re in control here, don’t you?" His voice is a dark whisper, sending a shiver down my spine. "But you’re not. You never were."

The realization dawns on me like a punch to the gut, and I feel the blood drain from my face. "What did you do?" I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He smirks, enjoying the fear he sees in my eyes. "While you were so busy thinking you had any say in this, I’ve been switching your pills with fertility medication. You’re nothing without me, Natalie."

A wave of nausea rolls over me, but I force myself to stay upright, to keep looking him in the eyes. I won’t let him see how deeply he’s cut me, how much this betrayal hurts.

"And if I didn’t want children?" Dante’s voice drops to a cruel murmur, his lips brushing against my ear as he speaks. "I could’ve had you coked up and complicit, doing lines off my dick instead of giving me grey hairs from all your bullshit."

His words hit me like a slap, the sheer audacity, the depravity of it all. My heart pounds in my chest, my skin crawling with the realization of just how far he’s willing to go, how much control he’s wrested from me.

"You’re a monster," I whisper, my voice trembling with barely-contained fury. "But you won’t break me."

He pulls back, his eyes narrowing as he studies me, as if trying to figure out how much more I can take. "Break you?" he sneers. "No, moy voron. I’m not trying to break you. I’m just reminding you who’s in control here. And it looks like you need to be reminded of your place. Of your purpose."

Purpose? The word penetrates the haze of lust, unease pricking at the base of my skull. But before I can question him, he's pressing me into the mattress, the thick head of his cock nudging at my entrance.

"I'm going to fill this tight little pussy up," Dante purrs darkly, rubbing himself through my slick folds. "Pump you so full of my cum, it takes root in your fertile young womb."

Horror crashes over me, turning my blood to ice. "What? Dante, no, you can't mean-"

"Oh, but I do, moy voron." His grin is feral, triumphant. "I've already started replacing your birth control with fertility drugs. Soon, this flat belly will swell with my child. My heir."

Bile claws up my throat, revulsion and terrified anticipation warring in my veins. This can't be happening. He can't really intend to... to...

But the look in his eyes tells me he's deadly serious. That tying me to him irrevocably, breeding me like livestock, is his endgame. Has been all along.

Dante's hips surge forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. I cry out, my passage stinging and stretching around his thick girth as he sets a punishing rhythm.

"Gonna knock you up," he pants, each word punctuated by a jagged snap of his pelvis. "Put a baby in this belly, Natalie. Fuck you full to bursting with my spawn."

Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, even as my treacherous cunt clenches around him, my body responding to the filthy depravity pouring from his lips. God help me, some twisted part of me wants it, craves the perverse proof of his claiming.

"You'll be so ripe," Dante continues, his strokes growing frenzied. "Round and lush, tits swollen with milk, my child growing in your womb. Your body will know its purpose, its basest function - carrying the seed of the man who owns it."

I shatter with a broken wail, my mind shorting out under the onslaught of pleasure-pain and dawning horror. Dante follows me over the edge, roaring his completion as I feel him pulsing deep inside me, flooding me with what could very well be the beginning of his dark prophecy.

Boneless, I sag into the sweat-soaked sheets, barely registering when Dante slips free of my heat with a satisfied groan. But there's no respite to be found, not even in the hazy aftershocks of release.

Because his words cling to me like poisoned barbs, their implication seeping into my marrow. Twisting my insides until I don't know if the nausea rising in my throat is from revulsion or some nascent maternal instinct, programmed into my very DNA.

More than a trophy. More than a plaything, a pet to cosset and punish as he sees fit. No, Dante wants to make me a broodmare. An unwilling vessel, destined to propagate his cursed bloodline.

My hand drifts to my stomach, still flat for now. How long before his sinister machinations take root, before his child - our child - starts to quicken inside me?

Dante catches the movement, his fingers tangling with mine over my belly button. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You'll be magnificent like this, solnyshko. Glowing. Resplendent with our dark creation."

I turn my face into the pillow, a single sob wracking my frame. "I hate you," I choke out, the words muffled but no less vehement. "I'll never forgive you for this, you fucking monster."

"Shh." He strokes my hair, the gentleness of it somehow worse than any cruelty. "You say that now, moy voron. But you'll change your tune when you feel our little one growing inside you. When you realize the ultimate surrender, the purest submission, is giving your body over to its rawest purpose - creating life."

A shudder ripples through me, as much from the conviction in his tone as the terrible images it conjures. Is there nothing sacred he won't pervert? No line he won't cross in his quest to possess me completely?

"Sleep now," Dante coaxes, wrapping me in his inescapable embrace. "Let your body do what it was made for. Accept the honor I'm bestowing upon you, the precious gift of carrying my legacy within your womb."

I want to rage, to scream my defiance until my throat is raw and bleeding. But exhaustion drags at me, the weight of his depraved revelation smothering my struggles before they can begin.

As consciousness slips away, I'm left with one final, horrifying thought - that no matter how hard I fight, no matter how vehemently I reject his twisted vision, a monstrous part of me yearns for it. Yearns to be filled, stretched, branded inside and out as his.

I'm afraid that when I wake, that part will be all that's left of Natalie Quinn. Whoever she was before Dante Corleone burned her world to ash and built his kingdom on the ruins.

My skin burns where Dante touched me, his fingerprints seared into my flesh like brands. The sheets are damp with sweat and other things I don't want to name. I can still taste him on my tongue, bitter and intoxicating.

God, what's wrong with me?

I slip out of bed, my legs shaky. Every step is a reminder of what just happened, of how my body betrayed me again. The mirror catches my eye and I freeze, staring at the stranger looking back at me. Bruises bloom across my collarbone, my hips. Dante's marks of ownership.

"Fuck," I whisper, pressing my fingers against a particularly vivid bite on my shoulder. The pain grounds me, reminds me that I'm still here, still fighting.

I need air. Need to escape the suffocating scent of sex and Dante's cologne.

The chapel. The thought comes unbidden, a lifeline in this sea of chaos.

I throw on a flimsy dress, not bothering with underwear. What's the point? Dante will just rip it off again anyway.

The cool night air hits me as I slip outside, raising goosebumps on my bare arms. The chapel looms ahead, a silent sentinel in the darkness. Inside, the air is thick with incense and centuries of whispered prayers. I collapse into a pew, my knees hitting the worn wood with a dull thud.

"Please," I rasp, not sure who I'm even talking to anymore. "I can't... I can't do this. I need..."

What do I need? Freedom? My dad? Or maybe, deep down in the twisted part of me that Dante's cultivated, do I need him?

The door creaks open and I stiffen, knowing without turning who it is. Dante's presence fills the small space, suffocating in its intensity.

"Running again, solnyshko?" His voice is silk over steel, sending shivers down my spine. "When will you learn? There's no escape from me. Not ever."

I stand, facing him, chin raised in defiance even as my heart races. "This is a house of God, Dante. Even you should respect that."

He laughs, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "God has no power here, Natalie. Not over me, and certainly not over you."

He stalks towards me, a predator cornering his prey. I back up until I hit the altar, trapped between the cross and the devil himself.

Dante's hand cups my cheek, deceptively gentle. "You're mine, Natalie. Body, mind, and soul. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

His lips crash into mine, hungry and demanding. I hate myself for responding, for the way my body melts against his, craving his touch even as my mind screams in protest.

This is wrong. So wrong. But God help me, I don't know how to stop.

Suddenly, the chapel door bursts open. Enzo rushes in, his face a mask of concern and frustration. "Dante," he says, his voice strained. "This is not the place for this."

Dante pulls away, his eyes flashing with anger. But Enzo stands his ground, a calm in the storm of Dante's rage.

"Please," Enzo continues, his tone softer but firm. "Let's go. We can discuss this elsewhere."

For a moment, I think Dante will refuse. His grip on me tightens, possessive and unyielding. But then, to my shock, he steps back.

"This isn't over," Dante growls, his eyes locked on me. "Not by a long shot."

He turns and strides out of the chapel, leaving me trembling in the aftermath. Enzo approaches, his expression one of regret and apology.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I tried to keep him away."

I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Enzo's hand rests lightly on my shoulder, a gesture of support that feels alien after Dante's bruising touch.

"We'll find a way out of this," he promises. "I'll help you, Natalie. I swear."

As I look into his eyes, I see the sincerity of his words. Despite the darkness that surrounds us, there's a flicker of hope. And I cling to that hope, even as I feel Dante's pull, an invisible tether I can't seem to break.

I'm caught between two forces - Dante's consuming darkness and Enzo's promise of light. And I don't know which one will destroy me first.

With each passing day, I felt myself changing. The woman I once was - idealistic, defiant - was being consumed by Dante's darkness. Part of me still wanted to fight, but another part, growing stronger by the hour, found a twisted comfort in surrendering to his will.