Impure Vows (Dark Mafia Duet #1)

19. Aliyah

19

ALIYAH

I wake up, and the first thing I see is Dante's face, mere inches from mine. His eyes are closed, but even in sleep, there's an intensity to his expression that makes my heart race. I try to move quietly, but the slightest shift on the mattress causes his arm to tighten around me.

"Going somewhere?" His voice is a low murmur, but it sends shivers down my spine.

"No," I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady. "Just... stretching."

He opens his eyes, and they lock onto mine. There's that unhinged glint again, a mixture of danger and desire that leaves me both terrified and inexplicably drawn to him.

"Good," he says, his grip loosening but not releasing me entirely. "I like having you close."

I can't help the small huff of frustration that escapes me. "You don't have to keep reminding me," I snap, regretting it immediately.

His lips curve into a smirk. "But I enjoy it," he replies, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I'll tell you every day until you get it. You are mine."

I look away, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. I should hate him. I do hate him. But then why does his touch make my skin tingle? Why do I find myself yearning for his approval, his attention?

"Dante," I start, hesitating. "Why me? Out of all the people you could've... chosen."

He chuckles, a dark sound that vibrates through his chest. "You're different. Intriguing. You have a fire in you, even if you don't see it."

"A fire?" I echo, incredulous. "I'm scared out of my mind half the time."

"Fear can be a powerful motivator," he says, tracing a finger down my arm. "It can drive you to do things you never thought possible."

I shiver under his touch, cursing my body's betrayal. "Is that what you want? To push me until I break?"

"No," he says, his voice softening just a fraction. "I want to see how far you'll go before you bend."

I stare at him, searching for any sign of humanity behind those dark eyes. "And what if I don't bend?"

His smile widens, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Then we'll find out together."

I close my eyes, trying to block out the conflicting emotions swirling inside me. Every touch, every word from him feels like a test, a game I’m not equipped to play. But beneath the fear, there's something else. A twisted, shameful part of me that craves his attention, that finds his dominance intoxicating.

"Aliyah," he says, his tone commanding my attention. "Look at me."

I do, and the intensity in his gaze nearly takes my breath away.

"You're mine," he repeats, his voice a low growl. "And I will protect what's mine. Understand?"

I nod, unable to speak. My mind is a mess of fear, anger, and a growing attraction I can't seem to shake. How did I end up here, tangled in the web of a man who should be my enemy?

Dante leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. "Good girl," he whispers, sending a jolt of heat through my body. "Now get dressed. We have a busy day ahead."

As he releases me and gets out of bed, I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. Every moment with Dante is a struggle between what I feel and what I know is right. And as much as I hate to admit it, the line between the two is becoming increasingly blurred.

Later, Dante holds up a sleek, black dress, examining it with a critical eye. "This one," he declares, tossing it onto the bed next to me.

I stare at it, my heart thumping in my chest. "You’re serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" His eyes lock onto mine, daring me to argue.

I sigh, picking up the dress. "I can dress myself; you know."

"Of course you can," he replies, a smirk playing on his lips. "But I enjoy making the choices."

I can't help the roll of my eyes. "You're a control freak."

He steps closer, the scent of his cologne wrapping around me, intoxicating. "And you love it," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.

My body betrays me, a shiver running down my spine. "I hate it," I whisper, but even I can hear the lie in my voice.

"Sure you do," he says, his fingers trailing down my arm. "Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten minutes."

I retreat to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The dress is beautiful, elegant, and far too revealing. I slip into it, the silky fabric cool against my skin. I glance in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me.

When I step out, Dante’s eyes roam over me, his gaze darkening. "Perfect," he says, his voice low and dangerous.

"Glad you approve," I mutter, crossing my arms.

He strides over, wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. "Remember the rules," he says, his lips brushing my temple. "You stay by my side. Always."

"I remember," I say, trying to ignore the way my heart races at his touch.

We arrive at the party, the room filled with dangerous-looking men and women in expensive clothes. Dante keeps me close, his hand never leaving my waist. Beneath my defiance, a thrill runs through me. Being on his arm, the way people look at us—it’s dizzying.

"Relax," Dante whispers in my ear. "You look like a deer caught in headlights."

"Gee, thanks," I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "That helps."

He chuckles, the sound sending a jolt of heat through my body. "Just stick with me," he says, guiding me through the crowd. "You'll be fine."

As we move through the room, I catch snippets of conversation, hushed whispers and stolen glances. Everyone knows who he is. And now, they’re curious about me.

"Dante," a tall, muscular man approaches us, his eyes flicking to me with interest. "Who's this?"

"Aliyah," Dante says, his grip tightening on my waist. "She's with me."

The man nods, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Lucky you," he says, before walking away.

I look up at Dante, my heart pounding. "Why do I feel like a trophy?"

"Because you are," he replies, his eyes dark and possessive.

The rest of the night is a blur of faces and conversations. Dante never lets me stray far, his presence both comforting and terrifying. The conflicting attraction I feel for him is overwhelming. The way he smells, the darkness that swirls around him, the way he keeps me physically tucked against his side—it’s all so dizzying.

Dante’s hand rests possessively on my waist as we move through the party. I feel like a human accessory, prettied up for people to notice, but not acknowledge. The crowd is a mix of opulence and danger, their eyes following us with thinly veiled curiosity. Every now and then, Dante introduces me with a smug smile, his eyes narrowing and his grip tightening whenever anyone looks too long.

I overhear snippets of conversations that make my blood run cold.

“... shipment from Colombia. We’ll need extra security at the docks.”

“... double-crossed us. Make sure he doesn’t see another sunrise.”

The words swirl around me, painting a vivid picture of the world I’ve been dragged into. Dante’s power extends far beyond what I could’ve imagined, and it’s terrifying.

“Aliyah,” Dante’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “This is Lorenzo. He handles our international dealings.”

I force a smile, extending my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Lorenzo’s eyes flick over me, a calculating glint in them. “Charmed, I’m sure. Dante, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Always do,” Dante replies smoothly, his thumb stroking my hip. “She’s quite something, isn’t she?”

I want to recoil, but I can’t. Not here. Not in front of these people. I’m trapped, playing the part of Dante’s prized possession.

As the night wears on, I feel increasingly out of place. The men discuss business deals that could topple governments, while the women exchange thinly veiled barbs, each one trying to outdo the other in displays of wealth and power. I catch glimpses of admiration and envy directed at me, but it feels hollow, meaningless.

The ride back to Dante’s mansion is silent, tension crackling between us like static. As soon as we step inside, I can’t hold it in any longer.

“You barely spoke to me all night!” I snap, my voice echoing in the grand foyer. “I felt like a ghost.”

Dante arches an eyebrow, slowly unbuttoning his jacket. “You’re mad because I didn’t baby you?”

“Baby me?” I echo, disbelief coloring my voice. “You ignored me, Dante. Why even bring me if you’re going to treat me like a mere ornament?”

I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. It sounds insane, like I’m some petulant girlfriend, instead of an overdressed prisoner. But the truth is, his treatment has been gnawing at me, driving me crazy.

He moves nearer, his gaze growing more intense. “You wanted attention? From me?”

“Yes!” I shout, the frustration boiling over. “I don’t want to be treated like an object. Like I’m just another one of your possessions.”

His gaze narrows, and a dangerous edge creeps into his voice. “You are my possession, Aliyah. Everything about you belongs to me. Your presence tonight wasn’t for your enjoyment; it was to show everyone that you’re mine.”

“That’s not—” I stop, swallowing hard. “That’s not how this works. You can’t just... own me.”

“Watch me,” he growls, his voice low and menacing, sending a shiver down my spine.

Dante’s hand shoots out, gripping my waist and pulling me roughly against him. His other hand tangles in my curls, yanking my head back. His lips crash onto mine, the kiss possessive and demanding. I gasp, the sound muffled by his mouth, and he growls, a primal sound that sends a shiver through me.

Chapter 20—Rodeo