I'M HIS ALONE

CHAPTER 7

THE NIGHTCLUB

Three days into her captivity, Bella was going stir-crazy.

The Romano estate was beautiful, luxurious, and equipped with every amenity imaginable. She had swum in the indoor pool, read books from the extensive library, wandered the gardens until her feet ached, and even used the state-of-the-art gym. But it was still a prison, no matter how gilded the cage, and Bella was starting to feel the walls close in.

She found Dante in his study, bent over a laptop, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up when she entered, and his expression softened immediately.

"Bella. Is everything alright?"

"I need to get out of here," she said, not bothering with preamble. "Just for a few hours. I need to see something other than these walls."

Dante leaned back in his chair, studying her. "You want to leave the estate."

"I need to, Dante. I'm going insane. If I'm going to be your... guest... then at least let me experience something of the world outside these gates."

He was quiet for a long moment, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the desk. "There's a risk. If people see you with me, if word gets out that I have you..."

"Then don't let people see me. Or tell them I'm... a friend. A colleague. Whatever." She stepped closer, hating that she had to plead but desperate enough to do it. "Please, Dante. I'm not asking for freedom. I'm just asking for air."

Something in his expression shifted-resolve, maybe, or concern. "I have a nightclub in the city. Inferno. It's one of my legitimate businesses, very public, very high-profile. If I take you there, we can be seen without raising suspicion. But Bella-" He held up a hand. "You would need to play a role. Act like you're with me willingly. Can you do that?"

Bella thought about it. The idea of pretending to be Dante's willing companion was distasteful, but the promise of leaving the estate-even for a few hours-was too tempting to resist. "I can pretend."

"Good." He stood, rounding the desk to stand before her. "Then we'll go tonight. Dress appropriately. Something that says 'woman on the arm of a powerful man,' not 'college student.'"

"I know how to dress for a nightclub, Dante."

"I know you do." His eyes swept over her, darkening with appreciation. "That's what worries me."

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Inferno was everything its name promised.

Located in the heart of Manhattan's Meatpacking District, the nightclub occupied three floors of a converted warehouse, all exposed brick and industrial chic, pulsing lights and throbbing bass. The line to get in stretched around the block, but Dante's black Rolls Royce pulled up to the VIP entrance, and they were ushered inside immediately, past the velvet ropes, past the desperate crowds, past everything that said "normal life."

Bella had dressed carefully-a black cocktail dress that hugged her curves, sheer black stockings, stiletto heels that made her legs look endless. Her hair fell in dark waves around her shoulders, and she had done her makeup with a smoky eye and deep red lip that made her look older, more sophisticated, more dangerous. She looked, she had to admit, like she belonged on Dante Romano's arm.

And Dante... Dante looked like sin incarnate.

He wore a tailored navy suit with a black shirt, no tie, the top two buttons undone to reveal a hint of dark chest hair. His hair was styled to messy perfection, his jaw clean-shaven, his gray eyes carrying a predatory gleam that made every woman in the room turn for a second look. He was magnetic, commanding, the kind of man who owned every space he entered simply by existing in it.

His hand rested possessively on the small of Bella's back as they moved through the crowd, guiding her toward the VIP section. She could feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of her dress, the strength in his fingers, the way he pulled her slightly closer whenever someone looked at her too long.

"This is your club?" Bella asked, raising her voice over the music.

"One of many." Dante nodded to the bartender, who immediately started preparing something. "Inferno is where I conduct... public business. Meetings that need to be seen, deals that need to be witnessed. It's also where I keep an eye on the younger generation-the heirs, the wannabes, the ones who think they can challenge the old guard."

They settled into a secluded booth on the upper level, overlooking the dance floor. A bottle of Cristal appeared, along with a platter of appetizers that Bella was sure cost more than her monthly rent. The music pulsed around them, a heavy beat that vibrated through her chest and made her feel alive in a way she hadn't since before her kidnapping.

"Dance with me," Dante said. It wasn't a request.

"I don't think-"

"We're supposed to be a couple, Bella. Couples dance." He stood, extending his hand. "Unless you're afraid."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Then prove it."

Bella took his hand, and he led her to the dance floor. The song was slow, sensual, a heavy R&B track that seemed designed for bodies moving together. Dante pulled her close-closer than was strictly necessary-and she felt the hard planes of his body press against her softer curves. One hand rested on her lower back, the other tangled in her hair, and he began to move with a grace that surprised her.

He could dance. Really dance. Not the awkward shuffling most men did, but real, fluid movement that matched the rhythm perfectly. He guided her effortlessly, his body leading hers, his hips swaying against hers in a way that made her breath catch and her pulse race.

"You didn't expect this," he murmured against her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine.

"I didn't expect a lot of things about you," she admitted, her voice breathier than she would have liked.

"What else have I surprised you with?"

"Your art knowledge. Your patience. The way you..." She paused, searching for the right words. "The way you look at me. Like I'm something precious. Something worth protecting."

"You are, Bella." His hand tightened in her hair, tilting her head back so she was looking into his eyes. "You are the most precious thing I've ever touched. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And I will destroy anyone who tries to take you from me."

The possessiveness in his voice should have terrified her. Instead, she felt a treacherous warmth spread through her body, pooling in places that had no business reacting to her captor. She was acutely aware of his body against hers, the hardness of his chest, the strength of his arms, the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against her stomach.

"Dante-" she whispered, not sure if she was going to push him away or pull him closer.

"I know," he said, his voice rough. "I know it's too soon. I know you don't trust me yet. But God, Bella, when you're in my arms like this, I can barely think straight. I want you so much it hurts."

He didn't kiss her. She wasn't sure if she was grateful or disappointed. Instead, he held her closer, burying his face in her neck, breathing her in like she was oxygen and he had been drowning. They moved together, bodies swaying to the music, surrounded by hundreds of people but completely alone in their own world.

It was the most intimate moment of Bella's life. And the most terrifying.

When the song ended, Dante pulled back, his eyes dark with desire but his control firmly in place. "We should go back to the booth. Before I do something I'll regret."

They returned to their seats, and Bella downed her champagne in one gulp, trying to calm her racing heart. She watched the crowd below, the beautiful people dancing and drinking and laughing, and wondered how many of them knew who Dante really was. How many suspected that the handsome man in the VIP section was one of the most dangerous criminals in New York?

"Dante Romano." A voice cut through her thoughts, and Bella turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man approaching their booth. He was handsome in a rough way, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes that held a hint of malice. "I heard you were here tonight."

Dante's entire demeanor changed. The warmth vanished, replaced by cold, calculated authority. "Benedetti. What a... pleasant surprise."

The man-Benedetti-laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Always so formal, Romano. We're practically family, after all." His eyes shifted to Bella, and she felt a chill run down her spine at the way he looked at her. Like she was meat. Like she was a thing to be acquired. "And who is this lovely creature?"

"Bella is none of your concern," Dante said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.

"Bella," Benedetti repeated, tasting the name. "Beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Tell me, Bella-are you here willingly, or has our dear Dante added kidnapping to his list of sins?"

Bella's blood ran cold. He knew. Somehow, he knew.

Dante moved faster than she could follow, suddenly standing between her and Benedetti, his body coiled with lethal tension. "Watch your mouth, Vittorio. You're in my club, on my territory. Show some respect."

"Respect?" Benedetti laughed again. "You want respect? Then maybe don't parade your kidnapped little plaything around in public. People are talking, Dante. The other families are... concerned. Taking an innocent girl? It's bad for business. Makes you look weak. Desperate."

"Get out," Dante said quietly. "Before I forget that we're in a public place."

Benedetti held up his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes were hard. "Fine, fine. I'll go. But Dante-" He leaned in, his voice dropping. "The Commission is meeting next week. They're going to discuss your... indiscretion. I'd watch my back if I were you."

He walked away, and Dante watched him go with an expression that made Bella glad she wasn't his enemy.

"Who was that?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"Vittorio Benedetti. A rival. A snake." Dante turned to her, his expression softening slightly. "He won't bother you again, Bella. I promise."

"He knew, Dante. He knew you took me."

"Of course he knew. Benedetti knows everything that happens in this city." Dante sat down, running a hand through his hair. "This complicates things. If the other families are talking, if the Commission is involved..."

"The Commission?"

"The governing body of the five families. They... mediate disputes. Settle grievances." Dante's jaw tightened. "If they decide I've acted improperly, there could be consequences."

Bella felt a surge of hope. "Could they make you let me go?"

Dante looked at her, and the expression in his eyes made her hope wither and die. "No, Bella. Nothing and no one could make me let you go. Not the Commission, not the police, not God himself. You are mine, and I will burn this city to the ground before I surrender you."

The intensity of his declaration should have frightened her. Instead, she felt something else-a strange, twisted sense of safety. He would protect her, she realized. From Benedetti, from the other families, from anyone who threatened her. He was her captor, yes. But he was also her shield.

It was a dangerous realization. And Bella knew, with a sinking heart, that it was only the beginning.

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