When I Saw Him, I Dropped My Mask

Chapter 3: Pinned and Claimed

The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut behind me, instantly muting the low hum of conversation and the clinking of expensive crystal. The silence of the grand hallway was deafening, save for the frantic, erratic hammering of my own heart against my ribs.

I leaned back against the cool, polished wood of the door, squeezing my eyes shut. I dragged a shaking hand through my carefully pinned hair, not caring if I ruined the elegant style.

Breathe, Ashley. Just breathe.

I told myself I was panicking because of the sudden, brutal shock of seeing him again. I told myself the heat pooling low in my belly was just a phantom memory, a physiological misfire caused by the proximity of a man I had spent five years trying to surgically remove from my soul.

But the lingering, phantom imprint of Dante's calloused hand on my bare thigh told a different story.

I pushed away from the door and limped down the dimly lit corridor, cursing the fact that I had left one of my silver stilettos beneath the Don's chair. The hallway leading to the powder rooms was lined with shadowed alcoves and Renaissance-era oil paintings, the air thick with the scent of beeswax polish and old money. It felt like a tunnel, closing in on me with every uneven step.

I just needed to splash cold water on my face. I needed to compose myself, go back out there, and endure the rest of this agonizing dinner. Then, I would pack my bags, drain my hidden accounts, and disappear into a new life where neither Leo nor Dante could ever find me.

I turned the corner, the soft glow of the powder room wall sconces coming into view.

A large, imposing shadow detached itself from the darkest corner of the corridor.

Before my brain could even register the threat, before my buried instincts could snap my body into a defensive posture, a massive hand shot out of the gloom.

Fingers like steel bands clamped around my upper arm. I was yanked forward with terrifying, effortless strength. The breath was knocked out of me as I was slammed back against the cold stone wall of an alcove, completely hidden from the main hallway.

I gasped, my hands flying up to strike, my mind instantly defaulting to lethal close-quarters combat.

But a heavy, solid body stepped directly into my space, trapping my hands between us. A second hand slammed flat against the wall beside my head, effectively caging me in.

The scent of bergamot, expensive scotch, and gun oil flooded my senses, a potent, intoxicating narcotic that immediately short-circuited my brain.

"Running away so soon, amore?" Dante's voice was a dark, gravelly whisper, vibrating against the shell of my ear.

I froze. My entire body went rigid, every muscle locked in a desperate battle between the instinct to fight and a terrifying, desperate urge to surrender.

He was so close I could feel the heat radiating from his chest through the crisp white fabric of his dress shirt. He had discarded his suit jacket, and the sight of his broad, powerful shoulders encased only in a vest and shirt made him look even more dangerous. More feral.

"Let me go," I gritted out, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound cold. I glared up into his face, illuminated only by the faint, ambient light spilling from the hallway.

Dante's eyes were obsidian pools, completely devoid of mercy. The calculated, cold detachment he had worn at the dinner table was gone, replaced by a raw, simmering fury and a possessive hunger that made my knees weak.

"Let you go?" he echoed, his voice dropping an octave, slipping into the smooth, lethal cadence of a predator toying with its meal. He leaned in, his nose grazing my cheek. "I let you go once, Ashley. It was the greatest mistake of my life. I don't intend to repeat it."

"You didn't let me go," I shot back, the five-year-old wound tearing open with agonizing fresh pain. I shoved against his solid chest, but it was like pushing against a brick wall. "You threw me away. You told me I was a liability. You told me you needed a docile wife to secure your position, not a soldier."

Dante's jaw locked. A muscle feathered violently in his cheek. For a fraction of a second, I saw a flash of pure agony cross his features—a look so raw and unshielded it made my breath hitch. But it vanished instantly, swallowed by the cold, impenetrable mask of the Don.

"You believe what you needed to believe to survive," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips. "But we both know the truth. You don't belong with that pathetic excuse for a man in there."

"Leo is my fiancé," I said fiercely, clinging to the only shield I had left, no matter how flimsy it was. "He gives me a normal life. A safe life. Something you could never offer."

Dante let out a dark, humorless laugh that sent a shiver straight down my spine. "Safe?" He moved his hand from the wall, his rough knuckles tracing a burning path down the side of my neck. "You call that display in there safe? He's a coward, Ashley. He let his mistress openly mock you, and then he practically offered you up on a silver platter to me just to secure a shipping route. He doesn't see you. He doesn't know what you are."

He leaned closer, his chest pressing flush against mine, pinning me completely. His voice dropped to a harsh, ragged whisper. "He doesn't know the monster hiding beneath this beautiful, fragile skin. But I do."

"I am not that person anymore," I whispered, my voice breaking. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the overwhelming, intoxicating pull of him. "I left her behind. I left you behind."

"Liar," he breathed against my lips.

And then, he kissed me.

It wasn't a gentle reunion. It was an explosion. It was five years of agonizing starvation, of suppressed fury, of a violent, destructive passion finally breaking free from its chains.

His mouth crashed down on mine, ruthless and demanding. He kissed me like a man dying of thirst, conquering my mouth with devastating authority. I gasped against his lips, the sound instantly swallowed by his tongue sweeping inside to claim mine.

I hated myself. I hated that my hands, which should have been clawing at his face, were currently fisted in the lapels of his vest. I hated that my body betrayed me, melting into his hard angles, instinctively remembering the perfect fit of our bodies.

The kiss was a war. It was anger and desperation, blood and fire. I tasted the rich, heavy wine on his tongue, mixed with the unique, dark taste that was entirely him. He bit down on my lower lip, hard enough to elicit a sharp moan from my throat, and the sound seemed to shatter the last of his restraint.

His large hand swept down my back, gripping my waist and hauling me flush against his hips. I could feel the hard, rigid length of his arousal pressing against the velvet of my dress, a blatant, unapologetic declaration of his desire.

"Dante," I gasped, managing to tear my mouth away for a fraction of a second. I was breathing heavily, my lungs burning, my mind spinning completely out of control. "Stop. We can't... this is insane."

"Insane is letting you walk into my house on the arm of a dead man walking," he growled, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive line of my neck. He sucked hard on a spot right above my collarbone, branding me. "You belong to me. You always have. You can play house with Leo all you want, but you will wear my ring, Ashley. You will sit on my right side. Or I will burn this entire f*****g city to the ground."

"I don't want your world!" I cried out, finally finding a surge of strength to push my hands flat against his chest, shoving him back an inch. Tears pricked my eyes, hot and angry. "I don't want the blood, Dante! I don't want to look over my shoulder every second of every day. I just want peace!"

He stopped, his dark eyes locking onto mine. The absolute conviction in his gaze was terrifying.

"There is no peace for people like us, mia regina (my queen)," he said softly, his thumb brushing a stray tear from my cheek. "There is only survival. And the only place you survive... is by my side."

He lowered his head to capture my mouth again, and heaven help me, I let him. The fight was draining out of me, replaced by a dark, consuming fire that I had thought was dead forever.

CRACK.

The deafening sound of a gunshot ripped through the heavy silence of the estate, echoing violently down the grand corridor.

Dante's head snapped up instantly, his body instinctively shielding mine, his hand already reaching for the concealed weapon beneath his vest.

A second later, a series of rapid, automatic fire erupted, accompanied by the horrifying, explosive sound of the massive dining room windows shattering into a million pieces.

Screams tore through the air.

The peace was over. The blood had found me again. But as Dante pulled his gun, shielding my body with his own, I realized the most dangerous thing in this estate wasn't the assassins—it was the man holding me.