Chapter 277: I’m Going To Prepare A Welcome For Dante’s Men

He set the gun down and turned to Marco. "Here’s what’s going to happen. You take Eve to the secondary location. You position your men there. You make sure nothing happens to her while I’m dealing with this."

"Boss...." Marco started.

"That’s not a discussion," Dimitri said, his voice like ice. "You keep her alive. You keep her safe. You don’t let anyone touch her. Do you understand me?"

"Understood."

"Good." Dimitri picked up another gun....a heavier one, military grade. "I’m going to prepare a welcome for Dante’s men. And when they arrive, I’m going to remind everyone why they should fear the name Valentino."

He checked the weapon with the same methodical precision, his movements smooth and practiced.

"When do you want us to move?" Marco asked.

"Now," Dimitri said. "Get Eve packed. Get her to the secondary location. Set up the perimeter. And Marco...."

"Yes, boss?"

"When those men arrive tomorrow night, I want you monitoring from the safe house. I want you ready to move if anything goes wrong.

Marco nodded. "Understood."

"Where’s Eve?" Dimitri asked.

"In the master suite. Packing."

"Good." Dimitri picked up the guns...three of them, and cradled them in his arms. "I’m going to teach her how to use these"

Then he walked toward the master suite, the guns in his hands, his expression dark and dangerous and absolutely certain.

Marco watched him go and understood that whatever was about to happen, whether Dante’s men arrived tomorrow night or whether this escalated into something larger, Dimitri had already decided how it was going to end.

With blood.

With death.

With Dimitri Valentino reminding the entire underworld exactly who he was and why they should fear him.

Marco returned to the security office and continued his preparations.

Because tomorrow night, when seven professional soldiers arrived at an island looking for a mafia lord, they were going to discover that the mafia lord had been waiting for them the entire time.

And they were going to die for that mistake.

***

POV: ISABELLA

Isabella sat on her apartment bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror across the room.

She looked like a whore. That’s what her father had called her when he discovered her affair with Dante, and now, looking at herself, at the bruises on her neck, at the marks on her body, at the way her hair was tangled and her lips were swollen, she couldn’t argue with his assessment.

In the past week alone, she’d slept with two different men. Both of them had dark hair. Both of them had sharp features. Both of them had looked enough like Dimitri that if she squinted and didn’t think too hard, she could pretend.

But it hadn’t worked.

Because the truth was that her body didn’t want Dimitri. Had never really wanted Dimitri the way she wanted....

She cut off the thought before it could finish.

She wasn’t going to think about Dante. Wasn’t going to acknowledge the fact that no matter how many men she slept with, no matter how hard she tried to replace him, her body responded to one person and one person only.

Isabella pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself.

She’d made a deal with her father. Stay away from Dante. Work on getting Dimitri back. Become respectable again. Become the daughter he could be proud of instead of ashamed of.

But every cell in her body was screaming for something.....someone....else entirely.

And that made her a whore. Made her weak. Made her exactly what everyone had always suspected she was beneath the polished exterior and the family name.

Isabella was still lost in her thoughts, still hating herself, when her phone rang.

Unknown number.

She almost didn’t answer. Almost let it go to voicemail.

But something made her pick up anyway.

"Hello?" she said, her voice carefully disinterested. "Who is this?"

For a moment, there was silence on the other end.

Then: "Open the door, Isabella."

Her entire body went rigid.

That voice. Deep and dark and absolutely unmistakable. The voice that had been haunting her dreams.

"No," she said flatly. "I told you to never come near me again, Dante. So get lost."

She heard him scoff.....an actual scoff, like her rejection was amusing to him.

"It’s either you open this door," he said conversationally, "or I break it down. Pick one."

"You can’t just...."

"I can and I will. I’m standing in your hallway right now, Isabella. I’m standing here with my hand on your door. And I’m giving you ten seconds to open it before I put my boot through the lock."

Isabella’s heart was hammering in her chest.

She wanted to hang up. Wanted to lock her door and pretend he wasn’t out there. Wanted to be the strong woman who didn’t need a man who used her and manipulated her and made her into something she didn’t want to be.

But her legs were already moving toward the door.

"You’re a bastard," she said as she walked.

"I know," he replied. "That’s not new information."

She opened the door.

Dante stood in her hallway looking absolutely devastating in a dark suit and an unbuttoned white shirt. His dark hair was slightly messy. His eyes were dark with hunger. And the moment she opened the door, he pushed it open wider and walked inside like he owned the place.

Which, given the way he treated her, he probably did.

Before Isabella could say anything, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

The kiss was brutal and claiming and absolutely merciless. His mouth took hers like he had a right to it. Like she belonged to him. Like every moment they’d been apart had been a waste of time.

Isabella tried to push back. Tried to maintain some dignity. Tried to remember all the reasons why she’d told herself she was done with him.

But her hands were already gripping his shirt. Her body was already pressing against his. Her mouth was already opening for him, letting him in, surrendering completely.