Page 34 of The Enforcer's Possession
I knew his walk now -- measured, deliberate, the footsteps of someone who’d never rushed because he’d never had to.The door opened without a knock, because of course it did.This was his penthouse.His rules.My bedroom door apparently didn’t rate privacy.
He stopped three steps into the room, his gaze traveling from my face down the length of the red dress and back up again.His jaw tightened.Just slightly.Just enough that I noticed.
“That’s not what I selected for you.”His voice was level, conversational even, but I heard the steel underneath.
“No.”I smoothed my hands down the dress, drawing his attention to how it clung to my hips.“It’s not.”
“Change.”
“I’m comfortable in this.”
He moved closer, closing the distance between us with those deliberate steps.His suit was charcoal today -- perfectly tailored, perfectly pressed, probably worth more than the dress I was wearing.He looked like money and power and control, and I hated how much my body responded to all three.
“I’ll say it once more, Caterina.”He stopped close enough that I could smell his cologne -- something dark and expensive that made me think of cedar and bad decisions.“Change.Now.”
“And I’ll say it clearly.”I lifted my chin, meeting his eyes.“No.”
The word hung between us for three heartbeats.I watched something shift in his expression -- not anger, not frustration, something colder and more calculating.
Then he moved to the door and called out to the hallway.“Leave us.Everyone off this floor for the next hour.”
I heard footsteps retreating, doors closing, the soft ding of the elevator being called.Within thirty seconds, the penthouse had gone silent except for the sound of my own breathing.
Dante closed the bedroom door and turned back to me.
“You want to test me?”He began unbuttoning his cuffs with precise movements, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows.“Fine.Let’s establish exactly what happens when you disobey.”
My pulse kicked up.I forced myself to stay still, to not back away even as he approached.“I’m wearing a dress.That’s not a crime.”
“It’s defiance.”He reached out and traced one finger along the plunging neckline, the touch light enough to be almost casual.Almost.“You’re wearing this to provoke me.To test the boundaries of what I’ll tolerate.So let me be very clear about those boundaries.”
His hand moved to my shoulder, his fingers warm against my skin.Then he found the zipper at the back of the dress and began pulling it down with methodical precision.
“Don’t…” I grabbed his wrist, but he didn’t stop.
“You had your chance to change.”The zipper reached the small of my back and he pushed the dress off my shoulders.Gravity did the rest, the red fabric pooling at my feet in an expensive puddle.“Now I’m changing you.”
I stood there in just my La Perla lingerie -- black lace that cost a fortune and covered almost nothing -- and felt heat flood my face.Not embarrassment.Rage.But underneath the rage was something else, something that made my breath catch when Dante’s gaze traveled over my exposed skin.
He moved to the chair in the sitting room through the archway where he’d left the conservative outfit, gathering the cream blouse and navy trousers.Returned to me with the same measured steps.
“Arms up.”
“Fuck you.”
“Arms.Up.”He waited, the blouse hanging from one hand.“Or I dress you without your cooperation.Your choice.”
I lifted my arms, hating myself for the compliance but hating the alternative more.He slipped the blouse over my head with surprising gentleness, his fingers brushing my skin as he guided my arms through the sleeves.Then he began buttoning it from midway to the top.
The trousers came next.He kneeled to help me step into them -- like I was a child who couldn’t dress herself -- then pulled them up and fastened the clasp at my waist.
When he was finished, I looked exactly like the dutiful wife he’d intended.Conservative.Modest.Controlled.
“There.”He stepped back to admire his work.“Much better.”
The rage in my chest had crystallized into something sharp and cold.I met his gaze and saw satisfaction there, the kind that came from proving a point.
“Test me again,” he said quietly, “and the punishment won’t be so gentle.”
