Page 55 of Ruthless Desire

"Dante, what—" Natalie's voice catches, an undercurrent of wonder threading through her confusion. "What is all this?"

I shrug, feigning nonchalance even as I watch her face hungrily, searching for any hint of genuine emotion. "I thought you could use some company. A loyal companion to keep you occupied while I attend to business."

Her eyes meet mine, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions swirling in their amber depths. Surprise, certainly. Wariness, as always. But beneath it all, the faintest flicker of... warmth. Gratitude, even.

"They're adorable," she breathes, dropping to her knees amidst the wriggling mass of fur. "But Dante, a puppy... they're so much work. Are you sure—"

"I'm sure," I cut her off, crouching down beside her. "I want you to have this, Natalie. A piece of innocence in this dark world of ours."

She looks at me then, really looks at me, and for a moment I swear she sees straight through to the blackened core of my being. "Thank you," she whispers, and there's a raw honesty in her voice that takes my breath away.

I watch as she scoops up a tiny brindle pup, cradling it to her chest with infinite tenderness. The little beast yawns widely, pink tongue unfurling, before snuggling into her embrace with a contented sigh.

Something clenches in my chest at the sight, a fist squeezing my heart with brutal force. Is this what it would be like, to see her hold a child—our child—with such loving care? The thought is a lance through my gut, as agonizing as it is intoxicating.

"Boss." Alonzo's gruff voice shatters the moment, dragging me back to the cold reality of our twisted world. "It's time."

I rise slowly, brushing invisible lint from my cuffs. "So it is." I glance down at Natalie, still cooing over her new charge. "I have some business to attend to, sweet. An old acquaintance I need to remind of his place."

She looks up at me, brows drawing together in a faint frown. "Business? What kind of business?"

The corner of my mouth kicks up in a sardonic half-smile. "The kind best left unspoken, solnyshko. Plausible deniability and all that."

Her fingers tighten reflexively around the puppy, a shadow dimming the light in her eyes. "I see."

"Alonzo will keep you company," I continue, as if she hadn't spoken. "And Alessandro will be right outside should you need anything." I give her a pointed look. "And I do mean anything, Natalie. Understood?"

A muscle tics in her jaw, but she nods. "Understood."

"Good girl." I reach out, chucking her under the chin. "I'll be back before you know it."

With that, I turn on my heel and stride from the room, Alonzo falling into step beside me. I can feel Natalie's gaze boring into my back, a silent question mark that lingers long after the salon doors swing shut behind us.

The ride to the warehouse district is a blur of rain-slicked streets and bleak, shuttered buildings. My mind is a labyrinth of dark musings, each more treacherous than the last. The seeds of doubt Natalie has sown fester like cankers, eating away at the bedrock of my control.

Is her submission genuine, or merely another mask, another stratagem in the endless chess match of our wills? The memory of her face as she cradled that pup, the softness that transformed her features... could it all be an act, a honey trap to lull me into complacency?

By the time we pull up to the ramshackle warehouse on Pier 39, my thoughts are a snarled tangle of barbed wire and broken glass. I shake my head, as if I could dislodge the insidious whispers through sheer force of will. Now is not the time for weakness, for the festering rot of uncertainty.

Now is the time to remind the world who wields the power in this cesspit of a city.

I step out into the frigid drizzle, the cold air a slap against my face. Alonzo and a quartet of my most trusted soldiers flank me, their presence a comforting weight at my back as we approach the rusted metal doors.

Marco is waiting for us just inside, a hulking slab of a man with a prizefighter's face and a gaze like chips of flint. He inclines his head in a show of respect, but I don't miss the way his eyes flick over my shoulder, scanning the shadows for any hint of threat.

"Boss," he greets me, his voice a low rasp. "The shipment is here, all accounted for. But..."

I raise an eyebrow. "But?"

Marco glances around, as if the very walls might be listening. "There's a problem. With the Corsini end of things."

A tendril of cold fury unfurls in my gut, sharp and bitter as poison. "What kind of problem?"

"The kind that ends with Luca Corsini skimming off the top." Marco's lip curls in disgust. "The arrogant bastard thinks he can play us for fools. That he can line his pockets with our profits and we'll be none the wiser."

I go very still, a cobra poised to strike. "Does he now?"

The words emerge soft and smooth, belying the murderous rage simmering beneath my skin. Luca Corsini. The golden scion of the Corsini empire, with his matinee idol looks and sense of entitlement wider than the Hudson. The same preening fop who thought he could make a play for my woman, use her as a pawn in his pathetic bid for power.

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