In Love With The Mafia Kings Son

Chapter 24

After the intense, revealing session at the kitchen island, the rest of the day was dedicated to cheer practice. Letty, still slightly fuzzy from the alcohol and the shock of her intellectual display, was led by Isabella into the vast, home gym.

Letty was wearing a pair of Isabella's workout clothes—stretchy black leggings and a neon crop top—which, while revealing, were functional. Thanks to her memory and ballet background, Letty had the routine down now. She moved with a surprising blend of grace and power, easily executing the complex choreography.

But despite the perfection of the moves, the practice felt incomplete. Chloe was nowhere to be found.

Letty couldn't help but wonder what Dante had done to her. She remembered Lisa’s chilling words: He won't hurt her physically, but emotionally now that's a different story. The thought of Dante coldly dismantling Chloe's obsession—that surgical, precise cruelty—made Letty's stomach twist. Yet, the same power that protected her was the power that annihilated his ex-lover.

Practice finally ended, leaving Letty exhausted and damp with sweat. As the group gathered their things, Letty subtly scanned the area, noting Dante’s conspicuous absence.

Lisa, who was friendly and possessed a keen eye for social dynamics, noticed Letty's gaze sweeping the windows. She chuckles softly, walking over to Letty with a kind smile.

“Looking for someone, Nicolette?” Lisa asked, her tone gentle.

Letty felt a blush rise but managed a small shake of the head.

“Don’t bother, sweetie,” Lisa continued, grabbing her bag. “Dante’s busy with something at the moment. He told me to give you a ride home.” Lisa slung her bag over her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.”

The message was clear: Dante was gone, but his control remained. Letty was off-limits, and her transport had been arranged. Letty, tired and sore, grabbed her things and obediently followed Lisa out of the compound, the exhaustion and the lingering mystery of Dante's "work" settling over her.

Lisa’s luxury SUV sped away from the iron gates of the Rossi compound. Letty, still feeling slightly self-conscious in Isabella's too-tight workout gear, sank into the plush leather seat.

Lisa, however, was all casual ease. She glanced at Letty with a kind, but knowing look. “Look, I like you, Nicolette. You’re smart and you don’t pretend to be something you’re not. So let me give you some free advice on surviving the twins.”

Letty straightened, recognizing the genuine counsel behind the casual tone.

“With Dante, the rules are simple,” Lisa said, navigating the curving road. “If he tells you to do something, you do it. No questions, no attitude, no disobeying.”

Letty felt a cold prickle run down her spine as she remembered her 'punishment'—the agonizing restraint Dante had enforced when she defied him.

Lisa continued, her voice dropping slightly. "Isa is manipulative. She always gets what she wants, and she doesn’t care how she gets it, as long as she gets it. You just need to be smarter than her, which, frankly, you are.”

A wicked smirk played on Lisa’s lips as she turned her attention back to Dante. “Dante on the other hand… he’s very smart and just as manipulative, but he’s subtle. You don’t know you’re already in his trap until you’re already in his bed.”

Letty shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the explicit imagery making her stomach flutter. She decided to risk the final, necessary question, her voice barely a whisper. She looked down at her hands.

“Have you ever…?” Letty trailed off, too shy to finish the thought.

Lisa let out a rich, amused laugh, finishing the sentence easily. "f****d Dante? Hell yes, I have. Multiple times.” Lisa shrugged. “But we’re just good friends, don’t worry. I’m not obsessed about him like Chloe. Even though,” she leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice again, “Dante’s the best I’ve ever had.”

Letty felt her cheeks flush scarlet at the raw, honest words. The casual way Lisa discussed intimacy and Dante's prowess was astonishing.

Lisa caught her reaction and smiled warmly. “And don’t worry too much about Chloe. She’s like a chihuahua—all bark, no bite, really. Just a nasty little thing. Dante neutered her last night. She won't be a problem.”

Lisa pulled her luxury SUV up to the curb of Letty’s small, beige apartment complex. "Here you are, safe and sound," Lisa said, giving Letty a genuinely warm smile. "See you at school, Nicolette."

"Thank you, Lisa," Letty replied, the gratitude immense.

She slipped out of the SUV and walked quickly to her apartment door. The moment she was inside, she locked the door with a sharp, decisive click, shutting out the chaos of the world. The apartment was utterly silent, emphasizing the vast emptiness left by her father’s absence.

Letty didn't pause. She dropped her worn backpack and immediately headed for the bathroom. She didn't want to think about the clothes, the secrets, or the sheer proximity of the danger. She needed to wash the scent of the club, the alcohol, and most of all, the lingering scent of Dante's cologne and sweat from her skin.

She turned the shower on, setting it to scalding hot, and stepped under the burning spray.

As the steam filled the small bathroom, Letty closed her eyes, trying to find the blank, safe space her mind usually offered. But the blank space was gone, replaced by a vivid, intrusive loop of Dante Rossi.

She saw the raw, disciplined violence of the fight, the brutal power in his eyes as he delivered the final kick—the King asserting dominance. That image was immediately followed by the intimate moment of her gently cleaning the split above his eyebrow, the soft, protective breath she blew onto his skin.

The heat of the water wasn't enough. Letty suddenly changed the water to freezing cold, gasping as the icy shock hit her skin. She was trying to settle the unbearable, growing arousal that was coiling deep in her core.

But the cold water was useless. Every time she closed her eyes, she was instantly transported back: to the club, his massive body pressed firmly against hers on the dance floor, the slow, sensual grind of his hips, the promise of his lips.

Then, the final, shocking memory: waking up in his bed, the warm, immense weight of his arm over her, and the undeniable, massive pressure of his erection against her butt. The humiliation and the powerlessness were terrifying, but the physical memory was an intense, throbbing craving. She was utterly, physically owned.

She scrubbed her skin until it was pink, but she couldn't wash away the possession. Every surface of her body was imprinted with the knowledge that she belonged, completely and terrifyingly, to Dante.

Letty turned off the cold water, her body shivering but her core still humming with the memory of Dante’s touch. She stepped out of the shower and reached for a large towel, wrapping her small body tightly.

She was drying her hair when her phone pinged on the counter. It was a message from her father.

Peter's text was short and professional: "Working overtime. Won't be home tonight."

Letty stared at the screen, the cool reality of the message. The familiar, low ache of neglect settled over her. She felt the slight, familiar sting in her eyes, the prelude to tears she had long ago forbidden herself to shed.

She was used to it. She was used to his absence, the gnawing loneliness, and the deafening silence of their apartment. But just because she was used to it didn't mean it was any easier to accept.

Letty took a shaky breath, thumbed up the message to acknowledge she had read it, and forced the rising feelings deep down, exactly as she always did. She put on comfortable, oversized clothes, pulling her damp hair back into a loose bun.

She walked into the living room, retrieved a book, and settled onto the small couch. She plugged in her earbuds, the music an immediate, protective shield against the emptiness. Her goal was the same as always: to bury herself in a story, drowning out the painful silence of her life and the aching confirmation that no one, not even her own father, was watching out for her.