Page 28 of Ruthless

Along with several other men, he’s seated at a small round table littered with cards and chips. It’s still early, but an empty bottle of whiskey in the middle tells me they’ve been going for a while. His golden brown hair and scruffy beard are the exact opposite of Dante’s serrated polished edge. He’s lean, muscled, and dangerous, like a hunter, and his smile doesn’t quite reach his lead gray eyes as he studies me.

“You brought her?” He doesn’t hide his surprise well, and he and Dante exchange a long look before he presses his cigar out in the ashtray beside him. “Good. I was hoping to meet her.”

Dante laughs, his fingers teasing a strip of cloth across my abdomen. As the other men at the table track the motion, my body warms. Trying to remain subtle, I push at Dante’s wrist, but he ignores me.

“We would have been here sooner, but I got caught up playing with my new toy.” His voice purrs as one of his fingers slips inside the front of my dress, and I balk. “You know how it is.”

A flash of what might be understanding flickers in the man’s gaze before he reclines in his chair. His demeanor grows cocky as he scans me from head to toe. I try to remain unmoved, but it’s getting harder. “Toy, huh? More like a snack if youask me.” His attention flits to the man behind me. Assessing. Challenging. “She taste as good as she looks?”

Dante stills. The shift is so slight that I doubt anyone besides me and maybe the sharp-eyed ass with the degrading questions notices. This feels like a test with a weight clinging to it that I can’t understand, but Dante doesn’t hesitate.

“Better.” His husky, almost taunting admission tightens the area between my legs, and my stomach clenches, both with desire and aggravation. Here I am on parade like some kind of prized poodle in a dog show, yet I’m getting turned on?

One of the other men whistles, his gaze stripping me bare. “You’ve got yourself a hell of a view, Argento.”

Pressing his free hand along my upper back, Dante forces me to bend over until the side of my face presses into the poker chips on the table, their ridged edges digging painfully into my cheek. The edge of my skirt rides up over my ass, and to my horror, he brushes his knuckles across the exposed lips of my bare pussy.

“You should see her from this angle.”

Humiliation burns through me like a lit fuse. Dante’s body blocks anyone else from seeing me, but being used like this almost seems worse than the exhibition. I developed early, and when you’re a thirteen-year-old with hips and already a 34C, you’re a target until you learn how to shrink yourself or hide. I chose to become invisible, wearing bulky sweaters and loose-fitting dresses to camouflage my figure rather than let men objectify me.

Once, Dante represented my safe space, a place where I could explore my sexuality anxiety-free. With him, there was never a time when I was ashamed of what I wanted or too scared to ask for what I needed.

But this…this feels shameful.

In part because, despite the circumstances, I’m still growing wetter.

A part of me enjoys this.

As the men burst out laughing, I push myself upright and straighten my clothes. My skin flushes bright red, and my rapid breathing rate verges on panicked.

As if sensing my agitation, Dante hooks me by the waist and kisses my temple. With a guttural growl, I shove at his chest.

“We’re going to head back down and get a drink. I’ll catch up with you later, Luca.”

Luca nods, rolling his lips as he gives me another once-over before Dante pulls me away. His hand molds to the spot just above the curve of my ass, and despite the indignity I just suffered, lingering tendrils of yearning stretch through my lower belly.

Biting my cheek, I push the errant thought from my mind as Dante leads me back downstairs. My pace is slow to prevent the additional humiliation of a twisted ankle. “Who were those men?”

“Council soldiers.” His reply is clipped. “They’re the type of men who’d ruin you worse than I ever could. Be grateful you’re in my cage and not one of theirs,coniglietta.”

I peek up at him, frowning. “Council?”

He helps me down the last step before he responds. “The governing force behind the Italian mafia and the men who decide whether you live or die.”

The blood ices in my veins, and I stumble. Dante grabs my elbow to steady me, but nothing can tame the frantic gallop of my heart.

The Italian mafia.

I’m so screwed.

Chapter 10

Sara

I suck in a gasping breath, and the world shifts as if someone’s yanked the ground out from under my feet. I press myself against the wall, trying to draw in enough air to fill my lungs.

Dante walked into that room as if he belonged, and those men spoke to him as if he were one of their own. As soon as he said it, all the pieces clicked into place, and I cursed myself for not seeing the truth sooner.