Page 42 of Savage Devotion

But beneath our masks, I sense that none of us truly knows which role will be our last.

"Come back to London. Back to the mansion," Luca continues in a controlled voice. "We can settle this privately. As men. As brothers. Nico will be there too."

Dante's laugh lacks any warmth.

"As brothers? Now you sound like our mother. Sweet, naïve Elena. Always believing in family unity until the very end."

Luca's face turns bright red. "You don't get to speak of her. Not after what you did to her grave."

I look to Dante, searching for answers.What did he do to his mother's grave?!

"Why not? We all know I admired our father more," Dante continues, deliberately provocative.

"Enough," Luca practically growls, one hand moving protectively toward his wife. "This isn't the place."

"On that we agree," Dante concedes, though his posture remains coiled tight as a spring. "Enjoy your evening, brother. While it lasts."

As Luca guides Bianca away, her face notably paler than before, I feel Dante's hand tighten around mine to the point of pain. His breathing comes faster, pupils dilated behind his mask.

"Dante," I say quietly, tugging him toward a secluded alcove behind a massive marble column. "Are you okay? Just breathe, remember?Breathe."

But now we're hidden from prying eyes, the elegant façade has cracked.

Dante turns on me, his hand finding my throat, not squeezing but resting there. His breath is heavy, his nostrils flaring at the sheer force of the air speeding through his chest.

"Did you see her?" he hisses, his face inches from mine. "Pretending innocence while carrying his heir? While they flaunt what should have been mine?"

"Dante—"

His mouth crashes against mine, swallowing whatever words I might have offered. The kiss is punishing, possessive, a claiming rather than a caress. His teeth catch my lower lip hard enough todraw blood, the coppery taste mingling with the champagne still lingering on my tongue.

I should push him away.

Should remember that this man stole me from my life, branded me like cattle, keeps me in a gilded cage. That he has clearly done something awful,terrible,to the memory of his mother.

Instead, my hands fist in his lapels, pulling him closer as heat floods my core. My back hits the cold stone wall, his body caging mine completely.

"Dante, we can't—"

"You're fuckingmine," he growls against my mouth, hands already gathering the fabric of my gown. "You are mine, Francesca. Say it."

"I'm yours," I whisper, the admission torn from somewhere deep within me. A place that I no longer control. "Yes. I'm yours, Dante."

His hand slides beneath my dress, finding me bare beneath, already wet for him despite everything. Despite knowing exactly what this is… his rage at Luca channeled into possessing me, marking me, using my body to soothe his wounded pride.

"I will take everything from him," Dante vows as his fingers slide inside me, my body arching in response. "The throne. The empire. Everything he believes is his by right."

I should care that I'm just a pawn in his vengeance. Should remember my own agency, my own plans.

I'm stronger than this.

But as his thumb circles my clit, as his free hand pins my wrists above my head, all I can focus on is the pleasure building inside me. It's dark, twisted and… and…perfect.

"I will rule, Francesca," he continues, his voice a dark promise against my ear as his fingers pump into my wet pussy faster,harder. "With you beside me, Francesca. You will be my perfect queen. You are my match."

When release claims me, it's with a surrender more complete than any he's forced from me before. Because this time, for reasons I cannot fully understand or accept, it's freely given.

I shatter around his fingers, body trembling against the ancient stones of the château, I realize with startling clarity that I'm no longer simply playing a role to escape and gain my freedom.

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