Stolen: Dante's Vow

“Who the fuck are you exactly?”

“Sit.”

I don’t.

He takes a breath in and sits, gestures to my vacant chair.

“Dante,” Matthaeus says. He lays a hand on my shoulder.

I want to kill this man in front of me. I want to wrap my hands around his neck and choke the life out of him.

When Petrov goaded me about David, about him being my father, I didn’t care how he knew. How he could have found out. All I was thinking about was Mara. What he’d done to her. What I’d do to him. It was necessary for survival, and it worked. I survived.

But this. This man knowing so fucking much, it gets to me.

“Sit down, Dante,” St. James says. “Please.”

I sit.

He reaches into his pocket and sets the same card he’d slipped into my pocket on the table. I don’t shift my gaze from his.

“My client, this organization here, has a serious stake in getting that recording back.”

“Who are they?” I remember I found the same card among David’s things.

“Just a group of wealthy, interested and influential people. A society, of sorts.”

“What did my uncle have to do with them?”

“Nothing good. And he wasn’t with them. It’s not something you can buy into. You’re born part of The Society or you’re not.”

I look at him. “And you?”

“I have ties.”

“Vague is your middle name, isn’t it? Give me something solid.”

“He thought to use The Society to shield himself, ultimately, and there were some in the order who may have allowed more than they should have. It was damaging and will be more so if that recording gets into the wrong hands.”

“My uncle was dead by the time that meeting took place.”

He studies me. Does he know it was me who did the killing? At this point, I would be more surprised if he didn’t.

“His name was mentioned. Along with your brother. Yourself. The cartel your sister-in-law is associated with.”

“And what will you do with Pérez if you succeed in flushing him out?”

“I will hand him over to you once I ensure the recording is destroyed.”

“What makes you think he’ll destroy it? Are you just going to ask nicely?”

“He wants the girl back. He’s desperate in fact.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” I ask, standing again. “The girl is not on the table. Period. You and I may have a common goal to find that fuck, but you’re not using her to do it. So, if you want to try to blackmail me, you’re welcome to fucking try, but you’re wasting your time. The dead are dead. I’m not keeping up appearances. And I don’t like being threatened. So why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

Anger makes his jaw twitch. “I’ll be here for a few days more.”

“Not interested.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Won’t be my first.”

“He’ll come for her. He’ll come with a fucking army because you taking Petrov out allowed him that.” He stands again, buttons his god damned jacket again. “It was a stupid move. An emotional one.”

I study him. He’s right. It was definitely emotionally charged. But I’d do it exactly the same way if I had to do it over again. Maybe take more time to carve the fucker out.

But I wonder how far St. James is willing to go. Because he’s not telling me everything. I know that much. Hell, I don’t blame him. But he’s not using Mara. No one is.

19

Mara

I wake up slowly but the difference this time to the last time is I remember exactly what happened. Matthaeus drugged me after Dante said he wouldn’t do that again. Although he didn’t say exactly that. He said he didn’t want to drug me again. One word that makes all the difference.

It takes my muscles a little time to catch up to my brain’s order to move. To get out of this bed. I’m not in Dante’s bed even though I can tell from the room itself that I’m still in the warehouse.

The quiet around me is so complete, I wonder if I’m alone. I peel the blanket back and see that I’m still dressed. But I didn’t expect not to be. These men aren’t that type. They wouldn’t touch me like that.

But Dante did.

I pause at the memory. I imagine how he felt on top of me. How we were skin to skin. How he looked when he kissed me. How his mouth tasted.

And when he put his hand inside my panties… I close my eyes, my stomach fluttering. My body remembering.

When he put his hand inside my panties, I wanted it. I didn’t want to cringe away. Didn’t want to close my eyes and pretend it wasn’t me, pretend my body wasn’t mine. Didn’t want to not feel it.

And I came. I had my first orgasm. It was amazing. More incredible than I could have imagined.

I’ve never come before. Not alone. Not with a man. Never. I pretended when Petrov made me. It was over quicker that way. And I’ve never touched myself. Never wanted to.