Chapter 8 - CHAPTER 7

NO ONE'S POV

Dante stood in the dimly lit hallway of his mansion, the silence wrapping around him like a shroud as he stared out at the sprawling grounds outside his office window. The rain lashed against the glass, the storm raging in full force, a mirror of the turbulence simmering beneath his cool exterior. The house was dark, quiet, every shadow bending to his will, just as every soul in his world did. It was his domain, his kingdom, where he ruled with an iron fist. But tonight, the emptiness felt different.

Because tonight, everything had shifted.

Liliana Russo.

His jaw tightened at the thought of her name, the memory of their meeting playing over and over in his mind. He could still see her standing there, tense and vulnerable, yet still carrying a fire in her gaze that dared to challenge him. There was fear in her eyes, yes, but also defiance. Strength. It had sent a thrill through him, awakening a desire he hadn't felt in years.

She knew not what she had brought upon herself.

Dante's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile as he pulled away from the window to pour himself a drink. The crystal glass glittered with the low light of evening, the amber liquid moving as he filled the glass. The room filled with the scent of whiskey-smoky and deep and perfectly familiar. He sipped it slowly, the burning sensation as it went down his throat making him more grounded.

His mind drifted to Liliana, her smooth and silky chocolate locks inviting him to reach out and grab it, pull it. Her smooth and silky olive skin was tempting him to mark it. Her slender and delicate neck urging him to wrap his hand around and put pressure on.

Her petite yet curvy frame that he couldn't get out of his mind. Her doe hazel eyes lured him to roll them back in pleasure. Those luscious and plump, soft lips of hers makes him go insane with desire, urging him to kiss her, claim her. Her round ass and firm, perky tits-not big, but enough for a handful.

A year. One year of having her at his side, of molding her, controlling her. He'd made the terms clear—no illusions, no pretenses. He didn't want a wife in the traditional sense. He wanted possession. He wanted Liliana under his thumb, in his bed, and ultimately, in his power. He wanted to shatter her, to strip away every layer of resistance until there was nothing left but raw submission.

And yet… there was more to it than that, wasn't there?

She was not just another pawn in his game of control and dominance, endless as it was. No, Liliana was different. She was the key to something he had craved for longer than he cared to admit. Russo Enterprises was only bait, a means to lure her into his grasp. The company mattered, of course. Consolidating power was always at the forefront of his mind, but it wasn't just business with her.

It was personal.

Dante's eyes clouded over as he placed the glass down on the edge of his desk and leaned back against the polished surface, hands splayed out for balance. His mind tangled, writhing in circles as it went back to that first time he'd ever really seen her-at that goddamn party that got all of this started. She had been just a girl then, fiery and determined even amidst the chaos that surrounded her. She'd been a beacon of defiance in a world that sought to crush her.

She hadn't broken then. And she wouldn't break easily now.

But he would be damned if he didn't try.

He knew the risks of toying with her; knew that her spirit was as sharp as it was fragile. One wrong move, and she could snap; crumble in a way that left her useless to him. He didn't want to destroy her; no, that would be too easy. He wanted to shape her, to bend that fire to his will. He wanted to own every piece of her-from her mind to her body, to her very soul.

"Did you sign it, Amore Mio?" he murmured into the empty room, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. He could almost picture her now, sitting alone in her grand but empty house, staring at the contract, the weight of her decision crushing down on her. Did she hesitate? Did she curse his name as she scrawled her signature across the line? Or was she accepting her fate with a resignation that would only make him want to break her all the more?

It did not matter. She would sign. She had no other choice.

Dante had already predicted everything-he knew everything.

His eyes darted to the papers scattered across his desk: financial statements, merger proposals, documents detailing the delicate dance of power plays that kept his empire running like a well-oiled machine. None of it captured his attention this evening, however. Because at the moment, there was only her. Liliana Russo, with her dark hair and fierce eyes, her stubborn pride and delicate fragility.

The woman who would soon be his.

He had shown her the contract, shown his hand. Now he simply had to wait for one year. A little more than twelve months during which he could convince her to be his, totally his, in all possible ways. He could guess what she was going over and over in her head-they were pros and cons; chances for an exit line existed.

But there never could be an exit for him.

Dante had planned much more for her then this one year of fake marriage. Once she'll be in his grasp and then there will be no going back. Dante is an unpredictable man, no one knows his next move-no one. There's more then this contract marriage-much more.

Dante straightened, the dark satisfaction settling in his chest like a living thing. He would have her-mind, body, and soul-one way or another. He would tear down every wall she built, strip away every defense, until the only thing left was her complete and utter submission. And when the year was up… well, she'll still be in his grasp, only he knows how.

It was laughable. Letting her go was unthinkable after a year had passed. No, never. He hadn't exactly been the letting-go kind of guy when it came to the things he craved. And Liliana Russo was now so very entrenched under his skin and in his mind and flowing through his blood that he didn't think he was going to ever be able to let her go.

But for now, he would play the game. He would watch, wait, and savor every moment of her resistance, every flash of defiance in those fiery eyes. Because breaking her would be half the fun.

"Well, sleep tight, Amore Mio," he whispered, a cruel smile curving his lips. "You're going to need your strength."

With that, he heaved himself off the desk and moved away, the storm raging outside, but inside was calm. Controlled. The way it should be.

Because Liliana Russo did not know that by signing that contract, she did not just sell her soul.

She gave it to him.

And Dante Moretti had no intention of ever giving it back.