Impure Love (Dark Mafia Duet #2)

18. Dante

18

DANTE

T he door to the private room creaks open, and I step inside, the thick haze of cigar smoke greeting me like an old friend. Laughter and the gritty murmur of high-stakes poker surround us, a symphony of vice and ambition. I feel Aliyah stiffen beside me, her high heels clicking softly against the worn wooden floor as she struggles to maintain her balance in the slinky dress I chose for her.

"Stay close and behave," I tell her, my voice low and dark. Her wide, expressive eyes meet mine for a second before she nods, looking every bit the part of mafia eye candy.

We move through the room, heads turning to acknowledge my presence. My men give respectful nods, while the other players scrutinize Aliyah with a mixture of curiosity and desire. I catch the gaze of one particularly bold man who looks a little too long, and I let my stare linger, making it clear she's off fucking limits.

"Nice to see you, Dante," Tony says, shuffling a deck of cards at the head of the table. "Who's the new addition?"

"None of your concern," I reply, my tone hard and final, leaving no room for argument. With a firm grip on Aliyah's arm, I guide her to a seat beside me, making sure she's within arm's reach. I want everyone to see she's under my protection, and more importantly, under my control.

Tony raises an eyebrow but doesn't push it. "Suit yourself. Ready to lose some money tonight?"

I chuckle, leaning back in my chair. "We'll see about that."

Aliyah shifts uncomfortably, her gaze darting around the room. I place a hand on her thigh, squeezing gently. "Relax," I whisper. "You're safe with me."

She swallows hard, nodding again. Her fingers tremble as she reaches for the glass of water in front of her. I notice, and it amuses me. The fear in her eyes is almost intoxicating.

The game begins, and I focus on the cards, the banter, the subtle cues from the other players. Aliyah's presence is a constant distraction, though, a reminder of my power and control. She's a beautiful pawn in a much larger game, and I intend to play it well.

"Raise," I say, pushing a stack of chips into the center of the table. The others groan, some folding, others matching my bet. Tony smirks, always the showman.

"You sure about that, Dante? Feeling lucky tonight?"

"Luck has nothing to do with it," I reply, my eyes locking onto his. "It's all about skill and knowing your opponent."

Tony laughs, shaking his head. "Alright, let's see what you've got."

As the game progresses, I feel Aliyah's eyes on me, her fear mingling with a reluctant fascination. I lean over, my lips brushing her ear. "Watch closely, Aliyah. This is how you win."

Her breath catches, and she nods, her attention shifting to the game. The room fades away, the smoke, the laughter, the tension. It's just me, the cards, and the thrill of the hunt.

I keep my eyes on the cards, but my mind's split between the game and Aliyah. She's sipping her drink like it's her last, eyes darting around the room, taking in every detail. The men here laugh and joke like murder's just another Tuesday night. Hell, for us, it is.

Her discomfort amuses me.

Tony throws in his chips with a grin. "Think you can handle the heat, Dante?"

"Heat?" I snort. "You boys don't even know what that is."

Aliyah shifts beside me, her body tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap. I catch her glancing at Vinny, who's laughing uproariously about the last guy he 'took care of.' She has no idea that Vinny's laugh means someone's now part of the foundation of some new building. Her eyes widen in realization, and she grips her glass tighter, knuckles turning white.

"Aliyah," I say, my voice low and commanding, slicing through the din of the room. She jumps slightly, then turns to face me, her expression a mix of fear and defiance. "Enjoying the company?"

"Not really," she mutters, trying to mask the tremor in her voice. "But I don't have much choice, do I?"

I chuckle, a dark, amused sound. "Smart girl. No, you don't," I say, leaning in closer. "But you'll get used to it."

Tony eyes her, then me. "She's got spirit. I like that."

"Keep your fucking thoughts to yourself, Tony," I warn, my voice a low growl. My gaze never leaves Aliyah. She's tense, gripping her glass like it's a lifeline, her knuckles a stark white against the dark wood of the table. "She's mine. Don't forget it."

Tony raises his hands in mock surrender, his smirk infuriating. "Hey, no disrespect. Just making an observation."

"Make fewer observations," I snap, throwing my cards down with a force that sends a couple of chips skittering. "Fold." The room falls silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I lean back, eyes narrowing at Tony, daring him to push further.

The game continues, and Aliyah keeps scanning the room. Her fear is palpable, a sharp contrast to the relaxed demeanor of the men around her. It's intoxicating. I lean closer, my hand resting on her knee. She stiffens but doesn't pull away.

"What's going through that pretty little head of yours?" I ask, my voice soft but menacing.

"I... I'm just trying to understand," she whispers. "How you can all act like this is normal."

"It is normal," I reply, my fingers tracing patterns on her skin. "For us."

Her eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I see something besides fear—defiance. "It's sick," she says quietly.

I laugh, the sound harsh and cold. "So you keep saying. You're in my world now, Aliyah. Get used to it."

The game is close to finishing, and I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The tension in the room is palpable, every eye glued to the final cards on the table. With a practiced flick of my wrist, I reveal my hand. Silence falls, followed by a collective groan from the other players. I’ve won. Again.

"Goddammit, Dante," Tony mutters, throwing his cards down. "You clean us out every time."

"Maybe you should stop inviting me," I reply, a smirk playing on my lips as I rake in the substantial pile of chips. The weight of victory is satisfying, but not nearly as much as the look on Aliyah’s face.

I glance over at her and catch her staring, her eyes wide and curious. There's something in her gaze that pisses me off—a softness, a hint of... empathy? She needs to understand there’s nothing fucking redeemable about me. I’m not some goddamn puzzle waiting to be solved, and I sure as hell don’t need her trying to see beneath the surface. I’m a monster, plain and simple, and any attempt to find something human in me is a waste of time.

But for now, I’m riding high. I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, feeling her shiver under my touch. Her body stiffens, breath catching in her throat as I pull her close, our faces inches apart.

"You look like you’ve got questions," I murmur, my voice a dangerous whisper against her ear, my breath hot on her skin. "But you’re not gonna find any answers here." I tighten my grip slightly, just enough to remind her who’s in control.

Before she can respond, I crush my lips against hers, claiming her in a deep, possessive kiss. She gasps, her hands instinctively gripping my shirt. The taste of her is intoxicating, a blend of fear and something sweeter. For a moment, the room fades away, and it's just the two of us, locked in this primal dance.

I pull back, my grip on her neck tightening slightly as I study her face, the fear and confusion dancing in her eyes. "You belong to me now," I say, my voice low and commanding, each word a deliberate claim. "Don’t forget that." I let the silence hang heavy between us, ensuring she understands the gravity of my words. "You'll never escape me," I add, my tone leaving no room for doubt.

She nods, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and something else—something she’s not ready to admit yet. Good. I want her to be conflicted, to struggle with her emotions. It makes the game that much more interesting.

Tony clears his throat, drawing my attention back to the table. "You plan on sharing the spoils, or are you just gonna sit there and make out all night?"

I chuckle, releasing Aliyah but keeping her close. "Jealous, Tony?" I keep my tone light, but there’s murder in my eyes when I look at him.

"Of you? Never," he scoffs, but there's a glint of envy in his eyes. He knows better than to push it, though. Everyone here does.

Aliyah pulls away the moment I release her, but the way her chest heaves tells a different story. Her breath comes in quick bursts, each one a stark reminder of the tension crackling between us. I catch the flicker of conflict in her eyes—one moment filled with fear, the next laced with something more intoxicating. It shoots straight to my cock, igniting a hunger that claws at my insides.

"Look at you," I say, a smirk tugging at my lips. "You act like you want to bolt, yet you linger. That’s interesting."

Her eyes narrow, and she shakes her head as if trying to dispel the heat I know she feels. "This is insane, Dante."

"Insane?" I echo, leaning closer. "Or maybe it's just the beginning of something you don’t quite understand yet."

She opens her mouth to retort, but no words come out. Instead, she fidgets, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her body language betraying her. The way she bites her lip, glancing at me and then looking away, ignites a primal urge deep within me. It’s a raw, almost feral need to close the distance between us, to claim her in every sense of the word.