Shackled Hearts

Chapter Three

Dante

Dante stormed into the private lounge, the doors barely closing behind him before the room seemed to hold its breath. Heads turned, drinks paused mid-air, but he didn’t notice. Each step was a statement: anger, disbelief, and a kind of fury that made the walls feel smaller.

Matteo lounged in the corner booth, one arm draped lazily over the back of the seat, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, damn,” he said, voice casual. “Should I call a priest, or a hitman? Because whatever just happened, it looks… catastrophic.”

Dante ignored him, moving straight to the bar. He poured two fingers of bourbon, slammed the glass down, and swallowed it in one sharp gulp, eyes dark and unyielding.

“I’m going to need context,” Matteo said, leaning forward. “You walk in like someone just pissed on your family grave.”

“My father,” Dante ground out, his jaw tight, “wants me married.”

Matteo blinked, eyebrows rising. “Married…? Now?”

“To Serafina Caruso.”

Matteo froze mid-smirk. “Wait—Serafina? The Serafina who dumped your ass senior year and disappeared like a ghost?”

Dante’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer, just poured another drink, the amber liquid catching the low light like fire.

“I thought your family hated the Caruso’s,” Matteo said, voice low now, cautious.

“They do,” Dante muttered, finally meeting Matteo’s gaze, “which is exactly why this… alliance is the dumbest thing my father’s ever tried.”

Matteo whistled softly. “Damn. I mean… she’s still really smoking hot.”

Dante shot him a warning glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“What?” Matteo raised his hands, innocently. “Just stating facts. She could still walk into a room and shut it down.”

“She already did,” Dante said through clenched teeth. “They brought her into that meeting like a goddamn peace offering. I haven’t spoken to her in years.”

Matteo leaned in, suddenly serious. “And? What did she say?”

“She said what I was thinking—this is a mistake. Pure and simple.”

“Yeah… that tracks,” Matteo said, smirking despite himself. “You two have always had matching tempers. Perfect recipe for marriage.”

Dante glared. Matteo chuckled, unbothered.

“So… are you going through with it?”

“I’d rather put a bullet in my own leg.”

“Maybe two bullets,” Matteo suggested, grin widening. “Just to be thorough.”

Dante sank onto the couch across from him, glass in hand, staring into the amber depths as if the bourbon could dissolve his entire problem. “I need a way out.”

“You think she’ll try to sabotage it too?”

“I hope so.”

“Then maybe… you’ve still got something in common,” Matteo said, voice softer, almost conspiratorial.

Dante didn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him—a flicker of a smirk, brief, dangerous.

Matteo leaned back, eyes narrowing. “Just so you know… she’s not going to play nice. Not after what went down between you two.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Dante said, voice low, simmering with restrained anger. “She just needs to hate it as much as I do.”

Matteo raised his glass in a mock toast. “Mission accomplished, then. To doomed love stories… and mafia fathers with absolutely zero chill.”

Dante didn’t answer. He poured another drink, letting the amber liquid catch the low light. His tension was thick, raw.

Then she appeared.

Eva.

Her heels clicked deliberately across the polished floor. She leaned against the bar, one hip jutting out, eyes locking on him like a predator and prey at once. Her smile was slow, teasing, dangerous.

“You look… tense,” she purred, voice low, sultry, wrapping around him like smoke.

“Do I?” Dante murmured, lifting his glass, though he didn’t drink. The heat in her gaze, the scent of her perfume, the curve of her smile—it made his pulse spike.

Eva stepped closer, close enough that her hand brushed the edge of the bar near his. “You need a distraction,” she whispered, every word a promise, every movement deliberate.

Dante’s pulse jumped, and a smirk tugged at his lips despite himself. “You’re good at this,” he murmured, voice low.

“I aim to please,” she replied, her hand sliding to rest against his forearm. The touch was light, teasing, but fire shot up his spine.

Matteo, ever the observer, muttered under his breath, “Well, damn… looks like someone’s found a new way to cope.”

Dante ignored him, leaning closer. He caught a whiff of her perfume—vanilla, musk, danger. Eva’s fingers traced the line of his sleeve, brushing against his chest and slowly making their way to the bulge in his pants.

Dante growled.

“You’re not even touching your drink,” she noted, her voice barely above a whisper, just close enough to graze his ear.

“Who needs bourbon when you’re here?” he murmured, leaning even closer, lips hovering near hers.

He grabbed her hand and headed to his office.

Eva’s laugh was soft, velvet, teasing, and she tilted her head, letting her hair brush his shoulder.

Dante didn’t hesitate. One slow step, then another, and finally, the air between them vanished. Their lips met, a teasing brush at first, testing, tasting. The kiss deepened, slow, deliberate, charged, like fire and ice colliding. His hand slid along her hip, pulling her just a fraction closer, careful yet greedy.

Dante sat on the couch, eyes fixed on hers as she unzipped his pants. Releasing his hard c**k she began to stroke gently.

Dante moaned. “Take it baby. I want to feel my c**k hit the back of your throat”.

She took his c**k into her mouth licking down his shaft.

He watched her head bob up and down as she took him deeper.

“f**k baby, just like that” Dante moaned.

“You're such a dirty little slut” he said, jaw clenched.

Her mouth felt so good around my shaft. Eva used her tongue to swirl around the head of his d**k. She placed her hand on the base, moving up and down as her mouth was sucking and gliding.

“You love sucking my cock.” Dante growled.

“Maybe I like seeing you lose control,” she murmured, gaze locked on his, heat radiating from her like a magnet.

I grabbed her head and pushed my c**k deeper, increasing the speed of his thrusts.

Fuck!

“I'm getting close."

It's not long before I feel my balls tighten and final stiffening of my c**k.

“f**k, I'm going to c*m”.

I held her head firm while she swallowed every last drop.

Dante exhaled sharply, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a dangerous smirk.

“You’re impossible,” he said, voice rough.

“Maybe I just know exactly what you need,” Eva whispered, tilting her chin up.