Page 37 of Ruthless Desire

The image we make steals my breath. Dante's powerful form envelops mine, dark and dangerous against my softer curves. His eyes glitter with possession and intent, while mine are wide and wild, pupils blown with a cocktail of fear and... something else. Something I don't want to name.

"Look at you," he whispers, his breath hot on my neck. "So beautiful in your terror, so alluring in your defiance. You were made for this, Natalie. Made for me. And deep down, in the darkest recesses of your soul, you know it's true."

I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to bear the truth I see reflected there. "Never," I whisper, but it sounds weak even to my own ears. "I'll never be yours."

His lips brush the sensitive skin beneath my ear, making me shudder. "We shall see, my wild thing. We shall see."

Suddenly, he releases me. The loss of his heat is like a physical blow, leaving me cold and bereft. I slump against the dresser, my knees weak, as I watch him stride towards the door.

"I have a gift for you," Dante says, his tone casual as if we hadn't just been locked in a battle of wills. "Something to keep that brilliant mind of yours occupied."

He opens the door, and Alonzo enters, his massive arms laden with packages. My stomach drops, a mix of dread and unwanted curiosity coursing through me.

"What is this?" I demand, hating how shaky my voice sounds.

Dante's smile is all predator. "Open them and see, solnyshko."

With trembling hands, I peel back the tissue paper of the first box. My breath catches as I reveal a dress of shimmering emerald silk. It's exquisite, the kind of gown I used to dream about wearing to gallery openings.

Box after box reveals more treasures. Dresses in every color imaginable, shoes that probably cost more than a year's rent at my old apartment, lingerie that makes me blush just looking at it. And the jewelry... Christ, there's enough glittering gems here to fund a small country.

"Why?" I whisper, fingering a diamond necklace that catches the light like captured stars.

"Because you're mine," Dante says simply, his voice a silken caress. "And I want you draped in beauty befitting your status as my queen."

I flinch at his words, bile rising in my throat. Is that all I am to him? A possession to be dressed up and displayed?

"I'm not your doll," I spit, shoving the boxes away. "Or your pet, or your fucking queen. I'm a person, Dante. A human being with thoughts and feelings and dreams of my own."

His eyes narrow, something dark and dangerous flickering in their depths. "Careful, little girl," he warns, his voice low and menacing. "My generosity has limits."

"Generosity?" I laugh, the sound bordering on hysterical. "Is that what you call this? Kidnapping me, holding me prisoner, trying to buy my compliance with pretty trinkets?"

I grab a handful of silk and lace, hurling it at his feet. "I don't want your gifts. I don't want anything from you except my freedom."

For a moment, Dante goes very still. The air crackles with tension, thick enough to choke on. Then, faster than I can track, he's on me.

His hand wraps around my throat, not squeezing, but a clear threat. He backs me up until I hit the wall, his body a cage of muscle and sinew.

"You ungrateful little bitch," he growls, his eyes blazing with fury. "Do you have any idea what I could do to you? The pain I could inflict, the torment I could rain down on that stubborn head of yours?"

I should be terrified. And part of me is. But a larger part, the part that's been simmering with rage and helplessness since I woke up in this gilded prison, rears up in defiance.

"Do your worst," I snarl, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Beat me, torture me, break every bone in my body. It won't change anything. I'll never be yours, Dante. Never."

For a long, tense moment, we stand there, locked in a silent battle of wills. I can see the struggle playing out behind his eyes – the urge to punish warring with something else. Something that looks almost like... admiration?

Then, to my shock, he laughs. The sound is rich and deep, vibrating through me where our bodies touch.

"Oh, my feisty little paintbrush," he purrs, his grip on my throat gentling into something almost like a caress. "You have no idea how much your fire excites me. How much I long to watch you burn."

Before I can react, his mouth crashes down on mine. The kiss is brutal, all teeth and tongue and dark hunger. I hate myself for the moan that escapes me, for the way my body melts into his despite my mind's desperate protests.

Dante growls his approval, deepening the kiss until I'm dizzy with the taste of him. When he finally pulls away, we're both panting, lips swollen and eyes wild.

"Fight me all you want, Natalie," he says, his voice rough with desire. "Rail against your captivity, curse my name to the heavens. But know this – every act of defiance, every spark of that indomitable spirit, only makes me want you more."

He steps back, leaving me cold and shaking against the wall. "I'll break you," he promises, his eyes gleaming with dark intent. "Not all at once, but piece by beautiful piece. And when I put you back together, reshaped in my image... you'll thank me for it."

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