The limousine slowed, tires crunching over gravel. I hadn't realized how far we'd driven until the city lights vanished, replaced by the hush of waves and the smell of salt on the air.
The villa appeared like something out of a fever dream, white stone walls, glass windows soaring toward the night sky, firelight flickering inside. Remote. Isolated. The kind of place no one would hear me scream.
Dante stepped out first, offering his hand. I ignored it, sliding from the car on my own. My gown still clung to me, heavy from the endless day, but my spine stayed straight.
He didn't look offended. If anything, his faint smirk said he enjoyed the fight.
Inside, the villa was worse, no, more dangerous than I'd imagined. Polished marble floors gleamed beneath low golden light. A fire roared in the massive stone hearth, its glow spilling across velvet couches and decanters of wine. A staircase curved upward, promising rooms draped in silk and shadows.
It was decadent. It was a cage.
Dante loosened his tie as he followed me inside, tossing it carelessly onto a chair. He moved like a man shedding armor, revealing the raw, relentless heat beneath.
"Like it?" he asked, voice low.
I turned on him, my heart hammering. "This isn't a honeymoon. It's a prison."
His gaze darkened. In two strides, he was in front of me, his hand cupping my jaw, tilting my face toward his. His thumb brushed over my lower lip, slow, deliberate.
"You call it a prison." His voice was a whisper of smoke and fire. "I call it the beginning."
I should have shoved him away. I should have slapped him, screamed, anything. Instead, a shiver ran through me, betraying me, making his eyes gleam with triumph.
Then his mouth was on mine.
The kiss was nothing like the one in the church. That had been a performance. This was a possession.
His lips crashed against mine, hungry, relentless. His hand slid into my hair, holding me still as his tongue swept past my lips, claiming every breath. I gasped into him, and he swallowed the sound greedily, deepening the kiss until the world tilted.
Heat roared through me, fury and desire colliding in a storm I couldn't control. My hands pressed against his chest, whether to push him away or pull him closer, I didn't know. The hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt burned beneath my palms, making my knees weak.
Dante groaned softly against my mouth, the sound low and devastating. His other hand traced the line of my spine, pulling me flush against him, erasing every inch of space. The firelight painted his skin in gold and shadow, making him look like a man carved from danger itself.
When he finally tore his mouth from mine, I was trembling, breathless, lips swollen from the force of him.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his forehead pressed against mine. His breath was hot, ragged. "Say the word, Isabella, and I'll walk away."
I wanted to. God help me, I wanted to. But my voice caught in my throat, trapped between defiance and the undeniable truth that I didn't want him to stop.
Dante's slow, satisfied smile told me he already knew and he didn't give me time to recover. His lips claimed mine again, slower this time, a deep, deliberate exploration that made my stomach twist and my knees threaten to buckle.
I shoved at his chest, desperate for space, but his hand caught my wrist, guiding it back to his heart. His pulse thundered beneath my palm, matching the wild rhythm of my own.
"You feel that?" he whispered against my lips. "That's what you do to me."
Before I could answer, his mouth descended again, hot and demanding. My protests melted into a gasp as his tongue tangled with mine, each stroke pulling me deeper into the fire.
His hands moved with purpose, one fisting gently in my hair, the other sliding down, skimming the curve of my waist, then lower, tracing the silk of my gown as though memorizing every inch. When his palm spread over my hip, possessive, my breath hitched.
"Dante..." I began, but the word broke into a moan when his teeth caught my lower lip, tugging gently before releasing it.
"Say my name like that again," he murmured, voice roughened with hunger.
I shook my head, furious with myself, with him, with the way my body betrayed me. But he didn't let me retreat. He guided me backward until my spine met the cool marble of a column, caging me in with his body. His heat pressed against me, solid and unyielding, the fire at his back casting us both in molten gold.
His mouth left mine only to trail lower, along my jaw, down my throat. Each kiss was slow, lingering, designed to unravel me. My hands clawed at his shoulders, unsure if I wanted to pull him closer or push him away.
When his lips brushed the hollow of my throat, I gasped, my head tipping back against the stone. His smile curved against my skin, wicked and knowing.
"You're trembling," he murmured. "Not from fear."
My pulse stuttered, my denial tangled on my tongue. He didn't wait for it. His hands found the delicate row of buttons down the back of my gown, fingers working with deliberate slowness.
"Don't you dare..." I hissed, but the sound turned into another gasp as the silk loosened, slipping against my skin.
"Oh, I dare," Dante said softly, his lips returning to mine in a bruising kiss. The gown slid lower, baring the tops of my shoulders to his touch. His fingers grazed the newly exposed skin, reverent and possessive all at once.
The fire roared in the hearth. My breath came in shallow bursts.
Piece by piece, he was stripping away my defenses. My gown would be next.
And the terrifying part? A traitorous voice deep inside me whispered that I wanted him to.
The silk of my gown gave way beneath Dante's hands, slipping down my arms like water. It pooled at my feet with a whisper, leaving me exposed in the dim firelight.
A shiver ran through me from the way he looked at me. His eyes darkened, hunger and warring in their depths, as if I were both a prize and a sin he couldn't resist.
He touched me then, slowly, deliberately. Fingers trailing over my bare shoulders, down the curve of my waist, brushing my hip before rising to cup my face again. Every touch seared, every stroke leaving me trembling, undone.
"You're exquisite," he murmured, his thumb grazing the corner of my mouth. "Mine."
Before I could protest, he swept me into his arms. I gasped, clutching at him instinctively as he carried me up the sweeping staircase. The world blurred, marble, glass, firelight and then he set me down on a vast bed draped in silk the color of midnight.
I scrambled back, defiance sparking through the haze of heat. "You can't just ..."
Dante's mouth silenced me. His kiss was fire and steel, fierce enough to steal the breath from my lungs. His weight pressed me into the mattress, his body covering mine, every line of muscle and heat pinning me in place.
I tried to turn away, to deny him, but his lips followed, jaw, throat, the swell of my breast. Each kiss made my resistance falter, replaced with a pulse of liquid heat that spread through me in waves.
His hands roamed with devastating certainty, sliding beneath the thin lace that still covered me, fingertips brushing against bare skin. My back arched involuntarily, a moan slipping past my lips before I could bite it back.
"Isabella," he groaned, the sound raw, reverent. His mouth returned to mine, desperate now, consuming.
Somewhere in the haze, his shirt was gone. His chest pressed against mine, hot, hard, skin to skin. My fingers found his shoulders, gripping tight as if I could anchor myself against the storm tearing through me.
When he finally joined our bodies completely, I cried out, the world splintering into fire and sensation. He swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing me like he'd never stop, like he'd devour me whole.
There was no escape. Not from him, not from the way he moved inside me, deep and demanding, every thrust a claim, every kiss a vow. My nails raked down his back, my body betraying me with every frantic beat of my heart.
And in the firelit darkness, as pleasure consumed me, I realized with dawning terror that part of me didn't want to fight him anymore.
The world stilled.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of our breathing, ragged, uneven, echoing in the vast silence of the villa. The fire in the hearth burned low, shadows licking over the walls, wrapping us in their dark embrace.
Dante didn't move away. He stayed pressed against me, his body heavy and warm, his face buried in the curve of my neck. His breath was hot against my skin, his heartbeat hammering in time with mine.
Then he lifted his head, and I saw it, the raw, unguarded hunger in his eyes. Not just desire. Something deeper. Something that terrified me more than his strength, his power, even his name.
He brushed his lips over mine, softer now, almost tender. A caress rather than a conquest. His fingers tangled gently in my hair, smoothing it back as though I were precious.
"You're mine now," he whispered, voice hoarse with satisfaction. "Not just tonight. Always."
The words should have made me recoil. Should have filled me with rage. Instead, they struck something inside me, something fragile, something reckless. My chest tightened, my throat ached, and I hated myself for it.
I turned my face away, but his hand caught my chin, guiding me back to him. His eyes searched mine, dark and unrelenting.
"I'll give you the world, Isabella. Diamonds, blood, kingdoms…none of it means anything without you in my bed, in my arms." His mouth brushed my temple, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll burn the world to keep you."
A tremor ran through me. The vow was terrifying. And yet, God help me, it made my pulse quicken, my body betray me all over again.
When he finally pulled me against his chest, holding me as though I belonged to him, I didn't resist. My head rested over his heart, and I listened to the steady beat beneath my ear.
I should have felt trapped. But instead, for the first time, I felt…safe.
The realization struck like lightning, scorching through me, leaving only smoke and fear in its wake.
Because the truth was worse than the marriage, worse than the cage, worse than Dante's ruthless power.
I was starting to want him.
And wanting him would destroy me.