Page 82 of Savage Devotion

"Who will be there?" I ask, mind already cataloging possibilities, calculating advantages.

"Everyone who matters." Dante releases my hand, reaching for his phone to scroll through intelligence reports. "The Fukuda family from Japan. The Iranian syndicate. The Dutch kingpins. And…shit." His thumb pauses on a particular name. "And Xavier Dominguez."

I catch the significance immediately. "The Spanish shipping magnate."

"The very one. Very good, princess."

Xavier Dominguez. The name alone conjures images of a dark-haired devil with a predilection for beautiful women and brutal business practices. His shipping empire controls access to Mediterranean ports. Ports that would prove vital to Dante's intricate operations. Ports currently closed to any Ravelli vessels because of the conflict with the Volkovs.

"He hates you," I recall, remembering whispered gossip from past galas.

"He hates all Ravellis," Dante clarifies, setting his phone aside. "My father ordered the execution of Xavier's younger brother when a shipment went missing under his watch. Dominguez has blocked Ravelli access to Spanish ports ever since."

Understanding dawns as I watch calculation flicker across Dante's features.

"That's why we need those routes," I say, connecting pieces. "To move product without Volkov interference. Dominguez maintains exclusive control over them, no one else can touch them."

Dante's eyes meet mine, dark with intention. "Exactly. With Spanish port access, we bypass the Volkov-controlled channels entirely. Cut them out of our supply chain. Establish direct lines to the black market of our buyers in Western Europe."

"And with the financial freedom that provides—"

"We make our final move against Luca." Dante finishes my thought, the synchronicity between us now as natural as breathing.

I take a sip of coffee, taking it all in.

"Dominguez won't deal with you. Not directly. His hatred runs too deep and he's a man of his word."

"Which is why he won't be dealing with me." Dante's gaze rakes over me, possessive yet appreciative. "He'll be dealing with you."

My spine straightens as I understandexactlywhat he's suggesting. "You want me to seduce information from him, don't you?"

"I want you to use every skill your father taught you," Dante corrects. "Every social grace, every strategic charm, every manipulative talent you've cultivated since childhood."

I should be offended. Should bristle at being used as bait, as a tool for his ambitions. This is exactly something my father would have tasked me with.

But something has shifted between us since the blood oath.

Dante's ambitions are mine now. His throne, our shared destination.

"I mean, you're right. It's well known that Dominguez has a weakness for beautiful women," I observe, remembering the good-looking Spaniard's wandering eyes at previous events. "Especially those belonging to other men. Some kind of kink to fuck other men's property that makes him feel powerful."

Dante's jaw tightens, a flash of possessiveness crossing his features. "Can you do it? Can you play the role without letting him touch what's mine?"

The question contains layers of meaning.

It's clear this will be a test of loyalty. A challenge to my skills. An acknowledgment of the jealousy that drives him.

I rise from the table, circling to stand behind his chair. My hands slide over his shoulders, lips brushing the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

"I can extract what we need without crossing lines," I assure him, nails scraping lightly against his scalp as I run my fingers through his hair. "I was trained for this, remember? The perfectvirginCastellano princess, groomed to navigate these waters."

I reach down, my hand sliding over the expensive fabric of Dante's trousers to find the hardening outline of his cock. I grip him firmly, a possessive squeeze that mirrors his own claim on me.

"Besides," I whisper against his ear, "I know exactly who I belong to now."

His sharp intake of breath sends a thrill through me. The power I hold in this moment—Dante Ravelli, the man who kidnapped me, marked me, claimed me, now hardening beneath my touch—is intoxicating.

"Careful, princess. If you start something, I'll have to finish it."

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