A Mafia Werewolf Romance

Chapter 6: Apology

At nine o'clock that evening, there was a knock at the door-a soft sound, as if the person knocking knew the door was firmly shut yet felt compelled to knock anyway.

Sera was feeling unwell; her nap earlier that afternoon had been fitful. She had eaten lunch with Dante, only to be shooed off for a napas if she were a cat, while he went out-she had no idea where. Still shaken by the morning's events, she had tossed and turned, unable to sleep soundly as the memory of what had happened played over and over in her mind.

Sera opened the door. Being alone in the penthouse felt oppressive in the silence, and she couldn't shake the image of that tooth rolling across the floor tiles.

Standing outside was a waiter pushing a silver serving cart. Behind him in the hallway stood Gerald Blake and Julian.

Before she could speak, they walked straight inside. Gerald's face was ashen-grim as a debt collector’s ledger. Julian stood beside him with his jaw wired shut; his left cheek was a bruised, purplish-black, and his hands were clasped in front of him, his posture stiff and awkward, like a schoolboy summoned to the principal's office for a reprimand.

"Miss Voss." Gerald bowed deeply and remained that way for a long moment-Sera had never in her life seen a grown man offer her such a profound gesture of deference. "I have come to apologize. On behalf of my son, our family, and for every offense we have committed against you.” she took a step back. “you should speak to Mr. Moretti. He isn’t home.”

"Please." Gerald straightened up, only to bend forward again, bowing even lower than before. "please let us finish. I know you can sway his opinion. Everyone in the city knows you can sway his opinion. Miss Voss, I beg you."

Julian stepped forward, his gaze lowered; he spoke with difficulty through a set jaw, his tone stiff, as if reciting a script: "I wasn't in my right mind. I’d taken drugs that morning-bad stuff. If I'd been sober, I never would have laid a finger on you. Please forgive me."

Sera studied him. The terror she'd felt in that corridor-the hand gripping her wrist, the dead-end alley with no escape-all those memories rose in her throat like bile; yet the two men standing in the doorway, wearing expressions of rehearsed contrition, were meant to wash all that away.

"Miss Voss." Gerald's voice dropped to a low, somber register. " My company employs three thousand people. Three thousand workers, plus their families, their children. If the contract for Project Eclipse falls through, those children won't have milk to drink next month." His eyes welled up easily-an emotional display that terrified Sera far more than his earlier bow had. "What happened in that corridor wasn't their fault. Don’t let them go hungry because of it."

Three thousand people. She did the math in her head, a pang of anguish piercing her heart. She understood their strategy-this was the hook hidden in the bait. Yet, at the thought of those families, those children, and the milk, she found herself biting down on the hook anyway.

"I'll speak to him, she heard herself say. "I'll do my best.” She found him in the study. Behind him, the city was engulfed in flames; in his hand, he held a glass of smoky liquor. She told him everything-still wearing the white dress she'd had on all day. When she finished, he remained silent for a long time-so long that she thought he was about to throw her out.

"You want me to let them off the hook," he said. "Those employees. Not Julian or Gerard. But the people who work for them. They haven't done anything wrong.

He studied her for a long moment, his expression shifting subtly-like the turning of a key in a long-forgotten lock.

"All right," he said.

She blinked. "All right?"

Sera’s mouth fell open in astonishment. She had broached the subject with Dante despite her nerves, never really expecting him to agree. As she stammered out her request under the X-ray intensity of his gaze, she had felt almost mortified; surely it was strange for someone in her position to ask such a thing of him? Yet, to her surprise, Dante had agreed-and without a moment's hesitation.

"I’ll keep the contracts and retain the workers." He stood up and walked over to her, stopping so close that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. "But there’s no such thing as a free lunch, Little Wolf. I have a condition."

"A condition?"

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. His next words sent a rush of heat surging from her collarbone to her hairline; her hands clenched, her heart skipped a beat, and every concept from her orderly rule-abiding student life seemed to go up in flames.

“Agree to this," he whispered, "and Black Stone Holdings survives.

"I..." She could barely breathe. "I said I’d do anything.

The corners of his mouth curled upward.

"Anything," he repeated, his tone suggesting she had just handed him the key to something precious. "Remember that." He straightened up, picked up his glass, and walked out of the study, leaving her alone to process a deal she had accepted without even fully hearing the terms. As he walked down the hallway, she could still feel the phantom outline of that smile he'd worn in the shadows.

What a fool she was! Believing whatever anyone told her! Businessmen-they were all the same; no matter how noble their words sounded, it was always about profit. If there was no profit to be made, there would beno need to humble oneself like this! Sera lowered her head, too shy to meet his smiling gaze.

She was utterly puzzled-until that evening.

As it turned out, his condition was simple.

"Tonight," Dante said, standing beside her in the dimly lit room, "you call the shots."

At first, she didn't understand. With a wicked glint in his eyes, Dante gestured toward the massive bed-large enough to hold ten people. Sera understood instantly; her cheeks flushed a deep crimson as realization dawned, and she let out a soft, flustered "Ah…”

He watched her bashful reaction, his gaze holding a patient yet spine-tingling interest-the look of a hunter. She finally grasped his true intent: though the entire city had once bowed and pleaded with him, ultimately, all he wanted was to watch her climb to the peak herself.

Dante sat back at ease, savoring her embarrassment; he was absolutely certain this naive, foolish woman would agree to his terms. The previous night, he had tried to get her to straddle him, but whenever he attempted it, she would struggle violently-crying and shouting. Her fair body would writhe like a snake, impossibly slippery, always managing to wriggle free from his grasp rather than mount him. Seeing her cry so pitifully-and realizing she was genuinely too shy to be that bold and wild-he hadn't forced the issue, sticking instead to the standard position with him on top.

Yet, he truly wanted to see her sitting atop him. That slender waist-skin fairer and more tempting than the flesh of a lychee-would surely sway with the alluring grace of a water snake. And that shy, blushing face, glistening with the tears of passion... what a captivating sight that would be. The mere thought made his body heat up, driving a desire to unleash himself deep within her.

And now, the opportunity had landed right in his lap without him having to force her-how perfect. At this moment, Dante was as wicked as a demon out to seduce an innocent young girl, yet he also resembled a king orchestrating events from afar-holding the power to decide the outcome entirely on his own terms.

How could a mere high school student like Serra-a princess from an ivory tower, a delicate flower raised in a greenhouse-possibly be a match for the battle-hardened Dante?

Serra’s entire body was likely flushed crimson at Dante’s audacious proposal. She kept her head bowed, her fingers so tightly intertwined that the knuckles were turning white. Yet, she simply couldn't bring herself to refuse him; after all, the families of three thousand employees were waiting anxiously for her response.

By leveraging his connection to Julian, Dante had Serra completely in the palm of his hand.

With a smile playing on his lips, he poured a glass of red wine, stood up, and held the glass to Serra's lips.

Serra's face burned as if on fire; she parted her lips and took small, delicate sips from the glass he held, drinking until not a single drop of wine remained.

By the time she finished, her face was deeply flushed, and her alluring lips were a vivid, rosy red. He reached out, lifted her chin, and gazed admiringly at her beauty. She blinked shyly, her lovely eyelashes fluttering-a truly captivating sight. Her eyes, glistening and hazy from the wine, held a dreamy, soft quality, reminiscent of a quiet, moonlit stream shimmering in the night.

Dante leaned down and kissed her, tasting a fragrant sweetness laced with the notes of the red wine. It was a vintage from '72-anextraordinary wine-and the flavor was even more exquisite upon her lips. He deepened the kiss with a sense of intoxication, drinking greedily from her mouth like a parched traveler who had wandered the desert for days.

The red wine eased her nerves somewhat, though it couldn't entirely dispel the unease in her heart. Yet, he guided her like a patient mentor; between that seemingly daunting beginning and the final moment, her shyness quietly transformed into an indescribable emotion—a moving sensation that brought tears to her eyes, though not from pain. He held her close, whispering her name over and over, as if it were the only word he wished to speak.

Unaccustomed to kissing, she trembled shyly in his arms; though she instinctively wanted to pull away, she found herself helplessly yielding to the movements of his tongue. As his kisses rained down upon her, her thoughts began to drift, and her body went limp. The wine—she had consumed more than half a glass—began to take effect, leaving her dazed and unresisting; she let him kiss her, her wide eyes holding a look of innocent bewilderment.

Sensing she was slightly tipsy, he swept her up into his arms. Nestled against his chest, she let out a soft, girlish giggle—an expression of pure, carefree innocence that nonetheless held an irresistible allure. That laughter ignited a fire of desire in his eyes. Who would have thought that a single glass of red wine could transform this little woman into such a captivating enchantress?

And so, the bed became the stage for his burning passion. Holding her tight, he gave free rein to his desire, marveling at her slender, supple waist and the enchanting pink flush that shyness had brought to her cheeks...

Amidst the heat of passion, she wept yet moaned without reservation; the mingling of tears and soft cries stoked an unquenchable fire within him—a passion intense enough to drive Dante mad. It was a night of deep, lingering intimacy that left the sheets soaked with sweat; he became a beast of desire, consuming her completely, as if he longed to crush her tenderly into his very being. It wasn't until the first faint light of dawn appeared that Dante finally—and reluctantly—stopped, collapsing heavily onto her as he caught his breath.

He resolved then and there to get her to drink more often; there was something utterly intoxicating about her when she was tipsy. Even as he drifted into a deep sleep with his eyes closed, one thought lingered in his mind.

"Mmm, my back..."

Sera let out a low moan; she felt as though her back was about to snap. Even the slightest movement sent a sharp, tearing pain through her muscles.

That man’s stamina was incredible. She remembered losing consciousness several times, only to be jolted awake by his wild movements—and each time she came to, he was still going, tireless and relentless. Yet, the memory also brought back how uninhibited she had been that night—straddling him, swaying her hips under his guidance...

"Oh, God!" Sera whispered, her face flushing crimson with shame. She wanted nothing more than to find a hole to crawl into and never come out.

"It’s so embarrassing... just so embarrassing..."

She wished she could turn back time and erase that memory completely.

She couldn't bear to face anyone! Fortunately, Dante had already left; otherwise, how could she possibly look him in the eye?

Sera pulled the covers up and buried herself completely, like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. She wanted to stay in hiding, but her stomach had other plans. After a night of intense exertion, she was famished the moment she woke up. After curling up for a while, the hollow ache in her stomach became unbearable. She had no choice but to endure the pain; clutching her aching back, she struggled to climb out of bed.

The room was still heavy with the lingering scent of their lovemaking. If she didn't clean up the mess before the servants arrived, she felt she would never be able to show her face again. And then there were the sheets—good heavens...

Sierra stared at the damp patches—unmistakable traces of what had just transpired...

*Whimper...*

Overcome by a wave of self-pity, Sierra fought back tears. Dragging her aching body—feeling as though her lower back might snap at any moment—she struggled to strip the bed and piled the sheets into the bathroom; she would have gladly destroyed the evidence herself if she could. By the time she had everything tidied up, she was breathless and lightly glistening with sweat. She collapsed onto the king-sized bed, utterly exhausted and unable to lift a finger. Her stomach let out a loud growl of protest; summoning her last reserves of strength, she pressed the bedside bell to summon a servant.

As the delicious food settled in her stomach, a wave of warmth spread through her body; moved to the verge of tears, Sierra silently paid heartfelt homage to the exquisite meal before her.

That infuriating man—relying on his superhuman physique—had returned late at night and paced the room as if nothing had happened. Watching him, she felt a mix of envy and jealousy, a sour ache rising in her chest. After the events of the previous night, her body had become incredibly sensitive; the mere thought of him drawing near made her blush and her heart race. And he would always flash that wicked, alluring look That inscrutable yet meaningful smile made her eyes well up with tears born of sheer frustration; biting her lip and daring not to vent her anger, she was forced to swallow her grievance and helplessness in silence.

Knowing when to stop, he suppressed a smile, climbed into bed, and pulled her into his arms. Their bodies pressed close, stirring memories of the previous night; she trembled all over—a sight that looked incredibly alluring. He had intended to spare her tonight, but the beautiful, slightly quivering body in his embrace quickly ignited his desire. Unwilling to suppress the urge, he pinned her beneath him and thrust forward—burying himself deep within her in a single, powerful movement.

In the lingering afterglow, her sensitive body continued to tremble uncontrollably. She tried desperately to stifle her gasps, yet that very effort made the sounds ring all the clearer in his ears. Every breath seemed like a deliberate provocation—how could he possibly sleep soundly in a moment like this?

He was forced to speak, using a stern tone to bring her into submission: "Go to sleep quietly right now, or else you won't be getting any sleep at all tonight!"

Her eyes widened in astonishment; in the darkness, the tears glistening in her gaze shone like stars. Yet, she yielded to his command: relaxing her body and clearing her mind, she drifted—before she knew it—into a deep, sound sleep.