Ruthless Devotion:His innocent captive

Chapter two: The gilded cage

The ride to Dante’s estate was completely silent, but the air inside the SUV felt heavy enough to choke me. Every time the car went over a bump, my shoulder brushed against his. Even through the fabric of his expensive suit, his arm feels like an solid iron. I kept my face against the glass, watching the bright lights of the city pass into the dark.

Finally, the car slowed down. Huge iron gates opened up automatically, and we drove up a long driveway.

When the car stopped, my breath seemed like it ceased for a moment, It wasn't just a house; it was a villa. The massive white mansion looked like a palace, lit up by expensive outdoor lights.

Beautiful fountains lined the front, but all I could see were the armed men walking around the compound. This place was a golden cage, and I am the bird.

The guard opened my door, and Dante stepped out first. He didn't wait for me. He just walked up the stone steps, knowing I had no choice but to follow.

"Move, girl," the guard muttered behind me.

I swallowed my fear, stepped out into the cold night air, and walked inside. The lobby was breathtaking.

Marble floors so shiny I could see my reflection, a hugel chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and a grand staircase curving up to the second floor.

Dante stood at the bottom of the stairs, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

He looked completely at home, a king in his castle, while I stood there in my cheap, oversized sweater, looking like a lost child.

"Take her bag upstairs to the master wing," Dante ordered a maid who was waiting quietly by the wall. The woman nodded quickly, took my small bag from the guard, and disappeared up the stairs.

The master wing. My stomach twisted into a tight knot.

"Wait," I said, my voice echoing in the massive space. I took a step back toward the front door. "Where am I staying? I want my own room."

Dante turned around slowly. The soft light from the chandelier hit his sharp jawline, making him look incredibly handsome but deadly and dangerous. He walked toward me, his heavy steps echoing on the marble. He didn't stop until he was right in front of me, forcing me to tilt my head up to look at him.

"You didn't listen to me in your apartment, Clara," he said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous tone. "You don't make demands here. You are nothing but a collateral. That means you stay exactly where I can see you."

"I am a human being, not a piece of property!" I snapped, my anger temporarily overtaking my fear. I went to push past him, but Dante moved with lightning speed.

His large hand shot out, grabbing my waist and pulling me flush against his hard chest. A soft gasp left my lips as the sudden impact knocked the breath out of me. He held me so tightly that I could feel the hard muscles of his thighs pressing against mine. The heat radiating off his body was overwhelming, wrapping around me like a fever.

"Let go!" I twisted, trying to wiggle out of his grip, but his hand on my waist was like a vice grip.

His other hand came up, his strong fingers tangling into my long hair, gently pulling my head back until my neck was exposed to him.

"You have a lot of fight in you, piccola," Dante whispered.

His dark eyes flicked down to my lips, which were parted as I panted for air. The look in his eyes wasn't just angry—it was hungry.

It was the look of a man who wanted to consume me piece by piece.

"I like a challenge. But don't mistake my patience for weakness."

He leaned down, his face so close that his nose brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck. I froze.

A sharp, violent shiver ran down my spine, ending right between my thighs. My heart was hammering so hard I thought he could hear it.

I wanted to scream, to bite him, to run away. But as his warm breath fanned over my skin, a treacherous, hot ache bloomed deep inside me.

My body was melting into his touch, betraying everything my mind was telling me.

Dante inhaled deeply, taking in my scent, before his lips lightly grazed the skin right beneath my ear.

"You're trembling," he murmured, his thumb rubbing small circles into my waist, making my skin tingle. "Is it from fear... or something else?"

"I hate you," I whispered, my voice shaking so much it barely carried. Making me wonder whether I meant it.

A low, dark chuckle vibrated against my chest. "Good. Keep hating me. It makes this much more interesting."

He suddenly let go of my hair but kept his hand firmly on the small of my back, guiding me up the grand staircase.

My legs felt like jelly, but I forced myself to walk. We walked down a long, carpeted hallway lined with expensive paintings until he pushed open a set of double oak doors.

The master bedroom was huge. A king-sized bed with dark silk sheets sat in the center, a crackling fireplace warmed the room, and huge glass doors led out to a private balcony. My small duffel bag sat on a bench at the foot of the bed.

"This is your home now," Dante said, walking over to a small bar in the corner to pour himself a glass of whiskey. "There are no locked doors in this room. Don't bother trying to turn the key. I come and go as I please."

I stood near the edge of the bed, feeling completely exposed. "What do you want from me, Dante? If my brother doesn't come back, what are you going to do to me?"

Dante took a slow sip of his drink, his cold eyes tracking me over the rim of the glass.

He set the glass down on the dark wood table and began walking toward me. As he walked, he slowly unbuckled his leather belt, pulling it free from his trousers with a sharp, slithering sound that made my breath hitch.

He tossed the belt onto a nearby chair, then reached for the buttons of his white dress shirt, unbuttoning the first three until the dark ink of his tattoos showed against his tanned chest.

Panic seized me.

I backed up until the back of my knees hit the edge of the high mattress.

"What are you doing? Stop." I found myself saying

Dante didn't stop. He kept moving until he was standing right over me, his massive frame casting a dark shadow over my body.

He reached out, his rough, warm fingers brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his touch surprisingly gentle but full of unspoken promises.

"I told you, Clara," Dante murmured, his voice thick and husky as he leaned down, his gaze dropping to the collar of my sweater.

"You belong to me now. And tonight, I think it’s time we find out exactly how much your brother’s debt is worth."

He reached down, his large hands gripping the bottom hem of my sweater, and in one smooth motion, he began to lift it up over my head.