Page 40 of The Proposal

“Dante,” I moan into his mouth.

“Fuck.”

He doesn’t stop his assault on my body until he’s drained every ounce of pleasure from me. When he’s done, he straightens, removes my hand from his dick and takes over.

He’s unlocking a side of me I never knew was there, and it feels incredibly liberating.

It only takes a few masterful strokes before his movements become jerky. He throws back his head and releases a long, drawn-out groan as ribbons of warm cum spurt out, landing all over my stomach.

I’m not even repulsed by being covered with his bodily fluids … it’s hot.

Chapter 11

Dante

Ihand out the new phones I purchased for the men. “Any business we do between each other, from here on out, must be done using these devices and only these,” I state.

“Why?” Edoardo asks, and his question immediately gets my back up. He’s always been one to challenge every single fucking decision. I don’t know how Papa put up with him for as long as he did. Just the sound of his voice is starting to grate on my last nerve.

“Because I said so.”

“Are they special phones or something?” he asks, picking up his and turning it over in his hand. “Because they look like ordinary phones to me.”

“They are ordinary phones, but with a difference,” I bite back.

When I was in Sydney recovering from the shooting, my brother met with Spencer Prescott, the owner of Prescott Enterprises, one of the country’s biggest IT companies. He had created an encrypted accountancy program for our businesses, and I was so impressed with his work that I asked him to design something specific for me.

I had this program ready a few weeks ago, but when mysuspicion of Edoardo grew, I asked Spencer to make a few changes.

“Any message you send on these phones will be sent via an encrypted algorithm, scrambling it into a completely unreadable format. The individual codes I give you will be able to decrypt and unscramble the messages.”

Edoardo nods his head. “Impressive.”

“I know,” I reply. “Now we can stay in touch without worrying about anyone tracking us or knowing our business.”

I’ll also closely monitor Edoardo and his movements, which I’m not about to disclose to anyone. I’ve searched this entire house for that photo of Arabella, which he claims my father showed him. I haven’t found it yet, which only makes me more sceptical. If I find out he’s up to no good, I’ll fucking end him.

I glance towards the entrance as Arabella steps in. The mere sight of her raises my heart rate a notch.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says, her cheeks flushing a soft pink, which I find unexpectedly endearing. The way she carries herself is a perfect blend of soft and meek, but I know there’s a fire beneath the surface, which is something I can’t help but admire. She can be feisty when needed, challenging me with nothing more than a sharp look or a pointed word, reminding me she’s not one to be easily tamed. “I made some espressos for you and your men.”

“Thank you,Bellezza.”

I should feel uneasy with her hovering while I’m doing business, but for some reason, I don’t. She’s grown up around this world and is familiar with the protocols and risks involved with betrayal. Besides, she hates her father, so I doubt anything that happens here will ever make its way back to him.

My greedy eyes follow her as she moves through the room with a quiet grace. I find myself grinning when I see she’s added a plate of freshly baked biscotti to the tray. She tends tomy men and me efficiently, never demanding attention but always anticipating our needs.

This woman never fails to surprise me. Initially, I dreaded bringing her back to Australia, but she’s settled into my life far better than I could’ve imagined. She’s also become the perfect distraction from the things that haunt me daily.

Our marriage isn’t traditional, but I feel like I’m making progress with her every day. It’s a slow burn, and there is a part of me that’s eager to push things forward—to reap my ultimate prize—but on the flip side, there’s something exhilarating about the anticipation of what’s to come. The more I get to know this woman, the more depth and mystery I uncover, which only seems to draw me in further.

A few hours later, my men leave, so I go in search of my wife. When I don’t find her in the kitchen or the main room, I head down the corridor towards our bedroom.

“Arabella,” I call softly when I find her sitting in the middle of the bed with her legs pulled up to her chest. She’s absently biting the fingernail of her thumb as she stares off into the distance, seemingly lost in thought. There’s something captivating about how she holds herself in those quiet moments. She’s vulnerable yet calm.

Arabella has finished redecorating our bedroom and has now moved on to the main room of the house. One day, I came in here and almost burst an artery when I found her up a ladder painting. She called me ridiculous when I told her it was reckless and dangerous, so I promptly hired someone to complete the job.

After I put the word out, it only took minutes to learn that one of my foot soldiers had a brother who was a painter. Within the hour, he was on site.

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