Chapter 2

• 【Alana’s POV】
• Could he help me get revenge?
• I only hoped he wasn’t the one who sent Semir to kill my parents.
• “Mr. Moretti.”
• I approached, my voice laced with just the right mix of timidity and gratitude.
• Dante looked up, his gaze heavy. “Alana.”
• “I… I wanted to toast you alone.” I offered him a glass, holding one for myself. “Thank you for taking me in, for giving me a home.”
• He studied me in silence, then took the glass. My heart pounded—not out of fear, but anticipation.
• He downed it in one swift motion, his Adam’s apple shifting. The game had begun.
• “I’m feeling a bit unwell. I’d like to rest for a while,” I whispered, lowering my eyes and letting my voice tremble.
• He didn’t say anything. He simply nodded.
• I made my way to the study—a place I knew he used for late-night business affairs.
• It was dimly lit, with only moonlight pouring through the tall French windows. I quietly locked the door behind me and leaned against it, waiting.
• If Leo dared to betray me so openly at our engagement party, I would make sure Dante was the one I gave myself to. That would be justice.
• I heard footsteps outside. The handle turned but didn’t open. A moment passed, then I heard a soft click—the lock turned from the outside with a key.
• Dante entered and closed the door behind him.
• In the darkness, his tall figure stood like a mountain, exuding a terrifying pressure. The scent of tobacco and whiskey filled the air, thick and intoxicating.
• “Alana? What are you doing here?” His voice was low, rumbling like distant thunder.
• I stepped toward him slowly, letting the moonlight catch the tears in my eyes. I rose on my toes and lightly traced his lips with my fingers—a move I had rehearsed over and over. It was a mixture of a daughter's dependence and a woman’s subtle seduction.
• “I feel… so sad,” I whispered, my voice cracking at the end.
• His body stiffened, his breathing grew heavy. Then suddenly, he grabbed my wrist—his grip tight, almost crushing.
• “Let go,” he said through clenched teeth.
• But I didn’t back down. I pressed my body against his, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. The drug was starting to work.
• “Why?” I looked up, tears spilling from my eyes at just the right moment. “Why won’t you kiss me?”
• He snapped.
• Without warning, he shoved me onto the large desk, scattering papers and objects across the room. They fluttered to the floor like snowflakes.
• “Do you even understand what you’re doing?” he roared, his eyes wild with fury and something deeper—something dangerous.
• I smiled through the chaos. I wrapped my arm around his neck and pulled him closer.
• “I know,” I whispered against his ear. “I want to kiss you.”
• That was all it took. The last thread of his control snapped.
• He tore open the front of my dress, exposing my skin to the cold air. Then he crushed his mouth against mine—rough, hungry, almost desperate. His lips moved to my neck and collarbone, biting and sucking hard enough to leave burning marks.
• His fingers gripped my breasts, pinching roughly, mixing pain and raw stimulation until I arched beneath him.
• Then his other hand slid up my skirt, fingers pressing firmly between my legs. Even through the thin fabric of my panties, his touch was invasive, deliberate.
• “Ah…” I gasped, my body jerking as he forced my legs apart.
• “Scared now?” he growled, voice thick with desire and restraint.
• He bit my breast hard, his mouth leaving marks of ownership, not passion. Then he yanked down my underwear with a sudden tear.
• Cold air rushed over my exposed skin, but his scorching palm replaced it a second later, parting my folds before plunging two fingers deep inside me without warning.
• “Ah!” I cried, pain and shock overtaking me.
• My body arched violently, but he pinned me down, his weight anchoring me to the desk. His fingers moved inside me with harsh intensity, forcing wetness from my unprepared body.
• I clung to him, digging my nails into his back. My pain, my moans, my desperation—I gave it all to him.
• I wasn’t just enduring. I was leading him deeper into madness.
• He pulled his fingers out, coated with a mixture of blood and arousal. The next second, he pressed the hard tip of his arousal to my entrance—hot, thick, and unforgiving.
• With no warning, no pause, he drove himself into me in one brutal thrust.
• “Ah!” I screamed, feeling as though I were being split apart.
• There was no mercy.
• He moved inside me with violent rhythm, slamming into me again and again, each stroke harder than the last. His groans mixed with the obscene sounds of skin meeting skin, drowning out my whimpers and broken gasps.
• Sweat ran down his sharp jaw and dropped onto my collarbone, burning like fire.
• His eyes had turned dark and wild, almost red with lust. But behind the frenzy, there was something else—pain, buried deep and unspoken.
• The desk creaked beneath us with every brutal thrust.
• The pressure built fast, overwhelming, unstoppable. My body trembled, trapped between agony and unbearable pleasure. I clung to him like he was the only thing keeping me alive.
• He didn’t stop, didn’t falter, not even when I lost consciousness.