Page 140 of Auctioned Innocence
“No,” I say immediately, though my protest lacks the conviction it would have had an hour ago. “It’s ridiculously dangerous.”
“It’s our only play.” She cups my face, her hands steady despite everything we’ve been through. “Trust me.”
I look at her—fierce, brilliant, unstoppable, the woman who just orchestrated a flawless victory against impossible odds—and realize I’ve never really had a choice.
“You know I do.”
Marco sighs heavily, flexing his wounded shoulder as he considers the tactical implications. “If you get my sister killed, I’m going to murder you.”
I laugh. “If she dies, I’ll let you.”
Sofia rolls her eyes at both of us, but her expression carries affection now instead of frustration. “If you’re done with the macho bonding, we have a trap to set.”
30
SOFIA
“It has to be me.” I spread the blueprints across the table in the command center, my hands still shaking slightly from the battle we just survived.
Dante is quiet for a moment, and I can see him fighting his protective instincts, the old patterns warring with everything that’s changed between us. His jaw tightens as he studies the plans, and I know he’s thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways he could lose me.
Then his expression clears, resolve settling over his features. “What do you need from us?”
The simple question carries so much weight—trust, partnership, acceptance. He’s not trying to protect me from this fight anymore. He’s asking how he can help me win it.
Marco studies the plans while applying fresh pressure to his wounded shoulder. “She’s right. Lorenzo’s arrogant. He thinks tonight broke us, scattered us. He’ll never expect us to go on the offensive immediately.”
“But what contacts do you have?” Dante asks practically, his tone purely strategic now. “Lorenzo’s people won’t just turn on him because we ask nicely.”
I pause, realizing the flaw in my initial thinking. “You’re right. I don’t have connections inside his current operation.” I pull up the intelligence we gathered during tonight’s battle. “But I have something better. I have all of his communications, his financial records, his operational details. I know exactly how his network operates.”
“That’s not the same as having people on the inside,” Marco points out.
“No, but it’s better.” I start pulling up files on my laptop. “I can predict his moves, anticipate his security, know exactly what he’ll expect and do the opposite. During my captivity, I studied every detail I could access—layouts, protocols, security patterns. And now I have all his communications and operational data from tonight’s hack.”
As I outline my strategy—using the intelligence we’ve gathered to turn Lorenzo’s own security against him—I see both men’s expressions shift from concern to reluctant admiration.
“It could work,” Marco admits finally, though his voice carries exhaustion from blood loss and the night’s battle.
“Itwillwork.” I gesture at the evidence scattered across multiple screens. “We have everything we need. Financial records to freeze his accounts, communication logs to anticipate his moves, security protocols to bypass his defenses.”
“But you’d still be walking into his stronghold,” Dante argues, crushing papers in his grip. “If anything goes wrong?—”
I silence him with a kiss, sudden and fierce. After a moment’s hesitation, he pulls me close, desperate and needy, the fear of losing me written in every touch.
Marco clears his throat pointedly. “I’ll…go coordinate with the cleanup teams upstairs. Make sure we’re secure here.”
Once we’re alone, Dante’s careful control finally snaps. He lifts me onto the planning table, scattering intelligence files as his mouth claims mine with desperate hunger. We’re bothfrantic, hands pulling at clothes, needing to feel alive after coming so close to death.
“We should focus on the mission,” he breathes against my neck, even as his hands contradict his words.
“Wearefocusing.” I wrap my legs around him, drawing him closer, needing this connection after everything we’ve been through. “We’re focusing on right now. On us. On being alive when we almost weren’t.”
Dante pushes me down onto the table, standing between my thighs and pressing his groin into my core through our clothes. It makes me groan, my head flopping back against the wood.
His hands work quickly, pulling on my leggings until they’re sliding off my ankles and feet. He groans at the sight of my underwear.
I laugh lightly. “It’s just panties, Dante,” I say, fingers working alongside his to push his pants off his hips and pull his shirt off. His underwear is shucked off as well.
