Seducing My Father's Killer

CHAPTER ,4

CHAPTER 4

Summer's POV

"Move in with me."

I choked on my morning coffee, staring at Dante across his desk where I'd been reviewing his schedule for the day, absolutely certain I'd misheard him.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me perfectly," he said, leaning back in his chair with that predatory gaze that always made my stomach flip dangerously, "Pack your things tonight. You're moving into the penthouse this weekend."

"That's completely insane," I sputtered, setting down my coffee before I spilled it everywhere, "We've known each other for exactly two weeks"

"Two weeks where you've been in my bed almost every single night anyway," he interrupted smoothly, "Two weeks where I've had you against every surface in this office, in my car, in that restaurant bathroom. So stop pretending this is sudden, Summer."

My face burned hot because he was absolutely right, I had spent nearly every night tangled in his sheets, had let him claim my body in ways that still made me blush days later, but moving in meant something permanent, something I couldn't easily take back.

"I need my own space," I argued weakly, knowing even as I said it that I was losing this battle.

Dante stood and moved around the desk with that dangerous grace that always made my pulse spike, "No, what you need is to stop running out of my bed every morning at dawn like you're ashamed of what we do in the dark. What you need is to accept that you're mine and stop fighting it so hard."

He gripped my jaw firmly, forcing me to meet his intense dark eyes, "Move in with me, Summer, or I'll simply have your landlord evict you for nonpayment and you'll have nowhere else to go anyway."

"You're an absolutely controlling bastard," I hissed at him.

"Yes," he agreed easily, kissing me hard enough to bruise, "And you f*****g love it. Admit it."

I wanted to argue but his hand was already sliding under my skirt with clear intent, fingers finding me wet and ready like my traitorous body had completely betrayed me again.

"Say yes," Dante commanded against my lips, "Say yes right now and I'll make you come on my desk before your next meeting."

"That's blatant blackmail," I gasped as his fingers circled exactly where I needed them most.

"That's effective negotiation," he corrected with a dark smile, deliberately pulling his hand away and leaving me aching, "Yes or no, Summer? Choose now."

I should absolutely say no, should maintain some boundary, some small piece of myself that he didn't completely own, but I was drowning in him and couldn't find the surface anymore.

"Yes," I whispered, hating myself for the weakness.

Dante's smile was pure masculine triumph as he lifted me onto his desk, scattering papers everywhere, "Good girl. Now let me show you exactly what happens when you make me happy."

He made me scream his name four times before his assistant knocked frantically to remind him about his eleven o'clock video conference, and by the time I managed to straighten my clothes I was trembling and furious and completely his.

That night I packed my tiny apartment with shaking hands, each item going into cardboard boxes feeling like another piece of my old life disappearing forever.

Three years of meticulous planning, three years of carefully becoming Summer Hayes, and now I was moving in with my father's killer like some twisted Stockholm syndrome victim.

My phone rang suddenly and my mother's psychiatric facility number flashed on the screen, making my heart clench painfully.

"Miss Vanderbilt?" the night nurse said quietly, "Your mother had a severe episode today. She keeps asking desperately for your father, saying dangerous men are watching the house."

I closed my eyes against threatening tears because my mother had been getting progressively worse, the delusions becoming more frequent and intense, and I hadn't visited in nearly three weeks because being around Dante consumed absolutely every moment.

"I'll come visit tomorrow," I promised, guilt crushing my chest.

"She also said something very strange tonight," the nurse continued hesitantly, "She kept saying 'tell Sophia the Konstantins know everything, tell her to run far away before they find her.'"

The phone slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, clattering loudly to the hardwood floor.

My mother knew about the Konstantins.

Which meant my father had definitely talked about them before he died.

Which meant everything was infinitely more complicated and dangerous than I'd ever imagined.

I was still standing there completely frozen when Dante's driver arrived to collect me and all my pathetic boxes, and the ride to his penthouse felt exactly like being driven to my own beautifully appointed execution.

Dante was waiting when I arrived, shirtless in low-slung black pants that showed every carved muscle of his absolutely perfect body, and he pulled me into his strong arms the very moment I walked through the door.

"Welcome home, piccola," he murmured against my hair with surprising gentleness.

Home, I thought bitterly, this isn't home, this is just a beautiful gilded prison.

But I let him lead me to his massive bedroom, let him undress me slowly like unwrapping an precious gift, let him make love to me with unexpected tenderness that made my chest physically ache.

"I need to tell you something important," I whispered afterward, lying in his arms with city lights streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Dante's hand stilled on my spine, "What is it?"

I should tell him everything about my mother, about the terrifying warning, about the Konstantins potentially knowing who I really was, but the words stuck painfully in my throat because once I started talking I wouldn't be able to stop the avalanche.

"I'm scared," I said instead, which was true enough.

"Of what?" he asked softly, tilting my face up to meet his searching eyes.

Of you, I thought desperately, of how much I want you, of how catastrophically this is going to end when you finally discover who I really am.

"Of losing myself completely in this," I admitted, touching his face gently, "Of forgetting who I was before you crashed into my life."

Something unexpectedly soft flickered in Dante's dark eyes, "Summer, you're not losing yourself at all. You're becoming who you were always meant to bepowerful, fearless, completely mine."

He kissed my forehead with shocking gentleness, "And I promise you this, piccolano one will ever hurt you while you're under my protection. Anyone who tries will die screaming. I'll make absolutely certain of it."

The raw sincerity in his voice made me want to cry because he genuinely meant it, this dangerous violent man would kill for me without hesitation, and I was lying to him with literally every breath I took.

"What if I end up hurting you?" I whispered.

Dante laughed darkly, "Then I'd probably deserve it completely. But you won't, because despite all your obvious secrets, I know what's real between us."

My heart stopped cold, "What secrets?"

"Whatever you're hiding so carefully," he said, running his fingers through my hair almost tenderly, "I've known from the very beginning that you're keeping things from me, Summer, but I don't care anymore because the way you look at me, the way your body responds to mine, the way you're falling for me despite trying so hard not tothat's completely real."

Tears slid down my cheeks because he was right, I was falling for him despite every logical reason not to, despite knowing I should hate him, despite my mission.

"I'm terrified," I admitted honestly.

"So am I," Dante confessed, pulling me impossibly closer, "Because I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. Never needed anyone this desperately. And that kind of weakness in my world can get you killed."

We fell asleep tangled toge

ther, and I dreamed of my father's dead eyes and my mother's warnings and everything crashing down around us.