In Love With The Mafia Kings Son

Chapter 20

Dante’s hand clamped around Letty’s elbow, his grip firm and proprietary, pulling her out of the sensory overload of the club and back into the cool night air.

The limo was already waiting.

He steered her toward the vehicle, his face set in a tight mask of annoyance over Chloe’s disastrous tantrum.

“Get inside,” he commanded, his voice low. “I’ll meet you back at the compound.”

Letty, still dazed by the dance and the potent cocktails, obeyed, sliding into the vast, cool leather interior of the limo. She watched as Dante turned and walked briskly away, presumably to deal with the chaos Chloe had unleashed.

A few minutes later, the limo door opened again, and Isabella and Lisa slid inside. Isabella was soaked and furious, her makeup smeared.

“Stupid f*****g cunt!” Isabella muttered, peeling her dress away from her skin. “I don’t even know why I’m even friends with her.”

Lisa slid inside next to Isabella, closing the door.

“Honestly, she just hangs around because she’s obsessed with your brother. You know that.”

Isabella scoffed, shivering slightly. “Yeah, well, Dante is pissed.”

As the limo sped back toward the hills, Letty, her vision slightly blurred by the alcohol, looked out the window. In the distance, near the club entrance, she saw Dante—his massive figure unmistakable—walking quickly, dragging Chloe by the arm. Dylan and Marcus trailed behind them.

The sight was a chilling reminder of the cold, ruthless power Dante wielded—a power that protected Letty but destroyed anyone who threatened his claim.

The limo pulled up to the imposing gates of the Rossi compound. They stepped out and walked toward the immense front doors. The staff immediately moved to open the doors for them, their faces a professional, monotone mask. Isabella and Lisa strode past the staff without a word of acknowledgment.

Letty paused, the manners ingrained in her simple life overriding the fear and the alcohol. She gently thanked the closest staff member in Spanish, and the man’s stiff expression cracked into a small, grateful smile and a nod.

Isabella sighed, stripping off her ruined dress as she walked through the foyer. “God, I’m sticky and gross. Let’s go into the hot tub.”

They made their way to the back of the house, where the massive infinity pool reflected the stars and a huge hot tub bubbled softly.

Letty’s cheeks felt hot. Before she could register what was happening, Isabella and Lisa were half-naked.

They had peeled out of their expensive, wet dresses and were standing there without a hint of shame—only wearing their black laced thongs, their beautiful breasts exposed to the air. The nudity was casual, unapologetic, and utterly normalized by their wealth.

“You getting in?” Isabella asked, her eyebrow raised in challenge.

Letty instinctively covered her chest with her arms. “I—I don’t have a bathing suit.”

Isabella shrugged, climbing into the tub. “And? Who gives a f**k? It’s just us girls.”

Letty hesitated for a long, fraught moment. She was slightly drunk, deeply embarrassed, and utterly unwilling to defy the power dynamic again. With a slow, unsteady movement, she slipped out of the shimmering gold dress, the cool air hitting her heated skin. She was only wearing a pair of simple black girl boxers and no bra.

She subtly covered her breasts with her hands, a shield against the exposure, and followed them into the hot tub, sitting opposite the them. Isabella and Lisa sat there casually, discussing the fight and the ruined dresses, utterly unconcerned with their half-naked state.

Letty looked around nervously, the combination of alcohol, the steam, and the explicit nudity making her vulnerable and dizzy.

Then, after a few minutes of strained silence, Letty heard the sliding glass door to the mansion's living area gently open.

Dante walked out onto the patio.

He was wearing the black silk shirt and dark jeans from the club, but the clothes only served to emphasize the raw power contained beneath.

Letty, half-submerged in the bubbles and entirely exposed in her black boxers, immediately felt the blood rush to her face. She pulled her knees closer to her chest, her arms clamping over her bare breasts in a futile gesture of modesty. Her shy, timid reaction was immediate and total.

Dante’s eyes, dark and heavy with intent, were fixed solely on Letty. He didn't even glance at Isabella or Lisa, completely dismissing their casual nudity. The sight of Letty's vulnerability—the soft curves of her breasts, the defensive posture, the deep crimson blush—lit a fire in his gaze.

Isabella, annoyed by the interruption and her brother’s silence, broke the tension. “What did you do with Chloe?” she snapped.

Dante shifted his focus to his sister, his expression one of bored dismissal. He didn't care that she was half-naked. “Dylan and Marcus are taking her home. She was smashed. And causing problems.”

Before Letty could process the casual disposal of his former conquest, Dante looked back at her and, with a swift, fluid motion, lifted his black silk button-up over his head.

Letty’s breath hitched. Her eyes, against every instinct of her mind, were immediately glued to his body. His torso was a masterpiece of honed muscle, wide and powerful. He stood there, magnificent, the droplets of fight sweat and blood on his split eyebrow only adding to the primal intensity.

He unfastened his jeans, and with a lazy slide, slipped out of his denim, leaving him wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs.

Letty’s eyes roamed over his body, outlining the deep, detailed structure of his muscles—the powerful curve of his shoulders, the flat plane of his abdomen, the hard lines of his thighs. Her gaze traveled relentlessly down to his boxers, where she could see the explicit, very detailed outline of his p***s. Even in a relaxed state, the sheer size of him was overwhelming.

Letty felt her body respond instantly: a surge of desire, want, and need began pulsing deep within her core, the feeling amplified by the hot water and the alcohol.

Dante watched her gaze, his smirk slow and intensely satisfied. He stepped toward the hot tub, the chlorine steam wrapping around his powerful legs. He lifted his massive frame over the edge and sat down right next to Letty, his thigh brushing hers beneath the water.

The hot tub's steam rose around them, mingling with the scent of chlorine and Dante's powerful cologne.

Isabella and Lisa continued their conversation, laughing over the fight and Chloe's tantrum. They were utterly unconcerned with their exposed state, the casual nudity a symbol of their untouchable privilege.

Letty, in stark contrast, was still shy, timid, and profoundly nervous. She pulled her knees closer to her chest, trying to submerge her small frame. This only caused the top of her breasts to push up slightly against the water's surface, a perfect, unintentional curve that immediately drew the focus of the man next to her.

Dante was completely ignoring his sister and Lisa's loud chatter. His eyes were fixed on Letty, and he couldn't help but notice the perfect swell of her bare chest. The sheer, involuntary nature of her exposure only amplified his desire.

A moment later, a waiter approached with a tray. He placed three Margaritas and a glass of whiskey—Dante's drink—on the edge of the tub.

Letty instinctively reached for the glass nearest her. "Thank you," she said softly to the waiter.

The young waiter gave her a small smile, and his eyes lingered too long on her exposed shoulders and face.

Dante noticed. His eyes, already dark with desire, tightened further. He shot the waiter a look of such cold, silent menace that the man’s smile immediately vanished, and he scurried away. Dante’s jaw tightened, the territorial reflex automatic and fierce.

Isabella noticed her brother’s reaction—the sudden, proprietary fury—and a shrewd smirk spread across her face. This confirmed everything she suspected about the new girl.

She clapped her hands, shattering the heavy silence. "Let's play a game."

Lisa grinned, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Ooh, what did you have in mind?"

Isabella licked the salt from the rim of her Margarita glass. "Truth or Dare."

Letty, mid-sip, slightly choked on her drink. The simple name of the game, in this setting, with these people, felt like a public execution.

"What?" Dante scoffed, taking a long drink of his whiskey. "What are we, seven?"

Isabella leaned forward, her voice low and challenging. "What's wrong, brother? Scared? What better way to get to know the new girl?"

Letty felt both prickles of panic and excitement—the terrifying certainty of being exposed, and the dark thrill of being forced to participate in Dante's dangerous world.