Page 25 of Savage Devotion

"Exactly." I reach out, tracing one finger along her collarbone, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. "You see… every man in that room wanted you. And yet, every one of them knew they would die if they touched what's mine."

Her brows crease. "And that mademepowerful?"

"Yes. Power isn't just about who holds the gun, Francesca. You entered a room of killers and showed no fear," I tell her, stepping closer. "You gathered intelligence while appearing decorative. You assessed threats, memorized details, identified weaknesses. Don't pretend you weren't mentally mapping escape routes and potential alliances the entire time."

Her lips part in surprise at my accuracy. "You noticed."

"I notice everything about you, Francesca." I reach out again, as if I'm incapable of not touching her. "Especially how your mind works behind those beautiful eyes. I see it already. You're always thinking, always strategizing."

She sighs a heavy breath. "What do you want from me, Dante? Beyond the obvious."

The question catches me off-guard.

What do I want? Her body, yes. Her submission, certainly.

But there's something more. Something I'm reluctant to name even to myself.

"Right now?" I pivot, avoiding the deeper question. "I want to reward you for your performance today."

Suspicion narrows her eyes. "Reward me how?"

I move past her to the bookshelf I had installed yesterday, running my fingers along leather-bound spines. "You've been exploring my library. I've noticed which volumes you linger over."

Surprise flickers across her face as I select several books—classic literature, philosophy, political theory—and place them on her bedside table.

"These are yours now," I tell her. "Along with permission to access the library whenever you wish. The cinema room as well, and the rooftop garden without escort."

She stares at the books, then at me, confusion evident. "Why?"

"Because trained animals perform better with positive reinforcement," I say cruelly, deliberately reminding her of hercaptivity even as I loosen her chains. "And because I want you to remember that everything in your world… whether it's punishment or reward… comes from me."

Something shifts in her expression. "And if I continue to... perform well?"

"More privileges. More freedom within these walls." I step closer, cupping her face in my hand. "Perhaps even pleasure, if you earn it."

Her pupils darken. "And if I don't?"

I smile, letting the darkness she fears show clearly on my face.

"Then you'll long for the simple humiliation of serving drinks in lingerie. I can be far more creative in my discipline, princess. Do not test me."

Her pulse quickens beneath my fingers. "Then it seems I have no choice but to obey you, Mr. Ravelli."

I look back at her—fierce, intelligent, unbowed despite everything I've subjected her to. A strange warmth spreads through my chest, an unfamiliar pride in her resilience.

"True," I concede. "But know this… Some cages have doors that eventually open, but only for those patient enough to earn the key."

Before she can respond, I place a gentle kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the jasmine scent of her hair, then step away and leave the room.

As I move through my penthouse, for the first time, I wonder who is truly being tested in this arrangement.

The captive princess? Or the monster who cannot stop thinking about her?

Chapter Seven

Francesca

Candlelight dances across Dante's features, softening the predatory angles of his face as he cuts into the perfectly seared steak before him. Blood pools beneath the meat, rich and red against fine bone china.

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