I'M HIS ALONE

CHAPTER 5

CAPTIVE

Dinner was a battlefield dressed in elegance.

Bella descended the grand staircase at eight o'clock sharp, wearing a deep burgundy evening gown that clung to her curves and flowed around her ankles like liquid silk. Her dark hair was swept up in an elegant twist, revealing the graceful line of her neck, and she had applied just enough makeup to accentuate her emerald eyes and full lips. She looked like she belonged in this world of wealth and power-and she hated it.

She had dressed up not because she wanted to impress Dante, but because she refused to let him see her defeated. If she was going to be his captive, she would be a proud one. She would meet him on equal ground, or at least pretend to.

Dante was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, and the look on his face when he saw her almost made the entire ordeal worth it. His gray eyes darkened to near-black, his jaw tightened, and she watched his throat work as he swallowed hard. For a moment, the mask of the ruthless Don slipped, and she saw the man beneath-hungry, captivated, completely undone by the sight of her.

"Bella," he breathed, and her name had never sounded more like a prayer. "You look..."

"Like your prisoner in expensive packaging?" she supplied, her chin lifting.

His lips curved in a slow, dangerous smile. "Like a queen. My queen."

He offered his arm, and after a moment's hesitation, she took it. His muscles were hard beneath her fingers, his body radiating heat and power. He escorted her to the dining room with the formal courtesy of a gentleman, though they both knew he was anything but.

The dining room was lit by candlelight, the long table set with crystal and china that probably cost more than Bella's entire education. Dante seated her at the head of the table, taking the chair to her right rather than the opposite end-a small intimacy that felt deliberate and possessive.

"Wine?" he asked, lifting a bottle of Barolo.

"I don't drink with kidnappers."

"I'm not just a kidnapper, Bella. I'm also your host." He poured the wine anyway, filling her glass halfway. "And I promise you, the wine isn't poisoned."

"How reassuring."

Dante laughed-a genuine sound that surprised them both. "God, you're magnificent. Do you know how many women would be falling all over themselves to please me right now? Begging for my attention, my approval, my mercy?"

"I'm not those women."

"No," he agreed, his eyes heated. "You're not. You're so much more."

The first course arrived-lobster bisque, rich and fragrant-and Bella ate despite herself. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until the food was in front of her. The flavors were exquisite, the kind of culinary perfection that came from having a world-class chef on staff.

"Tell me about yourself, Bella," Dante said, watching her eat with an intensity that should have been creepy but instead made her feel like the most interesting person in the world.

"You already know everything about me," she replied. "You researched me. Stalked me. Planned my kidnapping down to the clothes in my closet."

"I know facts. Dates. Grades. I don't know you." He leaned forward, his forearms on the table, his eyes searching hers. "Tell me what makes you laugh. What makes you angry. What you dream about when you're alone at night."

"I dream about freedom," she said quietly. "About walking out your front door and never looking back."

Something flickered in Dante's eyes-pain, maybe, or regret-but it was gone before she could identify it. "And when you're not dreaming about escape? What do you want, Bella? Truly want?"

She looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment she saw past the power and the danger to the man beneath. A man who had built walls so high and so thick that he had probably forgotten what it felt like to be truly known. A man who had everything and nothing at the same time.

"I want to finish my degree," she said finally. "I want to work in a museum someday, curating exhibitions that make people feel something. I want to travel-to see the paintings I've only studied in books. The Sistine Chapel. The Louvre. The Hermitage." She paused, her voice softening. "I want to matter. To do something meaningful with my life. Not just exist."

Dante was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "You can have all of that, Bella. I can give it to you. Every dream, every desire. The world, literally, at your feet."

"In exchange for what?"

"For you." His voice dropped to a rough whisper. "Just you. Stay with me. Be with me. Let me give you everything, and in return, give me... this. Your presence. Your fire. The way you look at me like I'm not a monster, even when you think I am."

Bella's heart hammered against her ribs. She should have been outraged, should have thrown her wine in his face and told him to go to hell. But something in his voice, something raw and vulnerable beneath the polished surface, made her pause. Made her wonder.

"You are a monster," she said, but the words lacked their earlier conviction.

"Yes," he agreed, without hesitation. "I am. I've done terrible things, Bella. Things that would haunt your nightmares. I've killed men, ordered deaths, destroyed lives. I am everything you think I am and worse." He reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers, and she didn't pull away. "But with you... I want to be something else. Someone else. You make me want to be worthy of you, even though I know I never can be."

The main course arrived-filet mignon with truffle sauce, roasted vegetables, potatoes dauphinoise-but Bella barely tasted it. She was too caught up in Dante's words, in the terrifying intimacy of this conversation. He was opening himself to her, showing her cracks in his armor, and she didn't know how to handle it. Didn't know if it was genuine or just another manipulation, another tactic to make her surrender.

"Why me?" she asked. "Of all the women in the world, why did you choose me?"

Dante's thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, sending shivers up her arm. "I didn't choose you, Bella. The moment I saw you, I was... undone. It was like recognizing something I had been searching for my entire life without knowing it. You were standing there in that terrible apartment, surrounded by your father's mess, and you looked at me with those brave, defiant eyes, and I knew." He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles that made her breath catch. "I knew that I would never want anyone else. That I would burn the world down to keep you. That I would spend the rest of my life trying to deserve you, even though I know I can't."

Bella's throat was tight, her emotions a tangled mess of confusion and something she refused to name. "That's not love, Dante. That's obsession."

"Is there a difference?" he asked softly.

"Yes. Love is selfless. It's about wanting the other person to be happy, even if that means letting them go."

Dante's grip on her hand tightened, his eyes darkening. "Then I don't know how to love, Bella. Because I will never let you go. Never. You're mine, and I am too selfish, too broken, too f*****g desperate to ever release you. The best I can offer is to spend every day trying to make you want to stay. To make you happy enough that leaving never crosses your mind again."

He released her hand and stood, rounding the table to stand beside her chair. Before she could react, he knelt-actually knelt-before her, looking up with an expression that was almost humble.

"I'm not asking you to love me, Bella. I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm just asking you to give me a chance. To let me show you that I can be more than the monster who took you. Let me show you the man I want to be-the man you make me want to be."

Bella stared down at him, this powerful, dangerous man kneeling at her feet like a supplicant, and felt the first crack in her defenses. He was still her captor. Still the criminal who had destroyed her life. But he was also... more. Complicated. Human. Desperately, terrifyingly sincere.

"I don't know if I can," she whispered.

"Then don't decide now," he said. "Just... stay. Eat dinner with me. Talk to me. Let me learn you, and let yourself learn me. And if, at the end of it all, you still want to leave..." He paused, his jaw tightening. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

It wasn't freedom. It wasn't even close. But it was something-a crack in the wall of his obsession, a sliver of hope that he might be capable of reason. And for now, trapped in his mansion, surrounded by his power, it was all Bella had.

"Fine," she said. "Dinner. Conversation. But that's all, Dante. Don't expect more."

His smile was slow and devastating, the smile of a man who had just won the first battle in a war he intended to dominate.

"Whatever you say, Bella. Whatever you say."

But as he returned to his seat and poured them both more wine, Bella couldn't shake the feeling that she had just made a deal with the devil-and that the devil was far more charming than she had ever imagined.

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