The Mafia Ice Queen

CHAPTER 4

DANTE POV

There was a fine line between being brave and begging for death. Most people crossed that line the moment they stepped into an underground auction house filled with men so powerful they could buy an entire city and erase it from existence. Yet there she stood, beaten, bruised, and bleeding, refusing to bow her head.

She was a live grenade. A volatile little piece of art.

A deafening silence fell over the room at my bid. I had only come to observe, expecting nothing to catch my eye, until her gaze locked onto mine. Something deep inside my cold, ruthless chest pulled tight.

“Two hundred, fifty thousand and five dollars?” someone whispered in shock.

For a captive.?

She was beautiful, yes, but far too dangerous. She looked like the kind of woman who would murder a man in his sleep and burn the house down before sunrise.

And that was precisely why I wanted her.

“Sold!!!”the auctioneer boomed, slamming the wooden gavel down.

The auctioneer gave no chance for a counter bid after I went three times more than the last bidder. Her cold blue eyes darkened with raw rage, stared back at me from the stage. Her pale skin was coated in dirt and dried blood, but it couldn't hide the striking high cheekbones or full, bruised lips. She looked Russian and judging by her lethal aura, I had no doubt she was born into the violence.

A murderous glint flickered in her eyes as her jaw set tight. My lips curled into a slow, wicked smirk.

Welcome to hell, sweetheart.

My phone chimed in my pocket with a brief text message.

Emergency meeting. Ten hours.

I stared at the screen for a moment, knowing exactly what it was about. The calm before the storm had officially broken. I shoved the phone away, stood up, and strode out of the VIP booth, exiting the warehouse toward the rear loading dock with a leather duffel bag packed with cash.

Outside, two handlers were dragging her toward my waiting SUV. They had thrown an oversized white shirt on her, though her blonde hair still hung wildly around her blood-smudged face.

I stopped in front of them, my eyes sweeping over her limp form. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Sir... we had to tranquilize her,” one guard stammered, sweating through his collar. “She’s a complete wild animal.”

I tossed the duffel bag at his chest. Both guards scrambled to catch it, releasing their grip on her. She crumpled forward, and I caught her

effortlessly before her knees hit the asphalt. I studied her pale, lethal face for a second, then scooped her into my arms and carried her into the back seat of my armored truck.

The silk sheets rustled beneath her weight as she stirred. She shifted, her breathing shallow, before her eyes snapped open with a sudden gasp.

I sat cross-legged in a velvet armchair near the foot of the bed, a cigarette unlit between my lips, watching my little grenade snap back to reality.

Her gaze darted frantically around the lavish suite, taking in the grand chandelier and high ceilings, before snapping violently toward me. The moment her eyes locked onto my face, her expression darkened into pure venom.

“Let me guess,” she rasped, her voice rough as sandpaper. “You’re the i***t who spent over two hundred thousand dollars on Mr.”

A dark smile tugged at my mouth. “Good afternoon to you, too.”

“f**k you.” She swung her legs out of the bed, her feet hitting the hardwood. Her icy gaze swept the room, instantly realizing I had cleared away every loose object, blade, or glass that could be weaponized. “Let me go, or I will kill you. And it won't be quick.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I replied smoothly. “I’ve already paid.”

“I didn't ask you to.”

“No, but I wanted you anyway.” I stood up, towering over her as she glared up at me. She stood at a solid five-foot-seven, but compared to my six-foot-six frame, she looked delicate enough to crush with one hand, a deeply deceiving illusion. “You want to leave?” I asked, a mocking grin spreading across my face.

“Yes.”

Reaching beneath my tailored jacket, I pulled my customized sidearm from its leather holster and held it out to her, grip first.

“You have two choices,” I spoke, stepping closer. “Take my gun and blow your brains out and have a peaceful exit, or drop to your knees and suck my c**k like the slave you are.”

She went dead still. Without a second of hesitation, her hand shot out, snatching the heavy pistol straight from my grip.

“I choose none,” she snarled, racking the slide with practiced ease and jamming the barrel directly against the center of my forehead. “Say hi to the devil for me.”

I froze, a deep, intoxicating thrill igniting in my chest.

I had been right about her.

So very right

My dangerous little grenade. My queen