Chapter 9
(Elara Ashford)
I cursed Dante Romano with every ounce of rage burning inside me. Men like him deserve to die a million deaths. The last time I trusted that bastard, he sold me off for those goddamn gold bar. If I ever get my hands on one, I’ll smash his skull with it. That treacherous, slimy fucker.
And now, here I am, living my worst nightmare.
I always knew Macro Drago would never kill me. I’m the only heir to his cursed throne, the one thing he’ll never risk losing. But he will not leave my little brother Elian. That one only threat that can bend me to his will. As long as he holds my sick brother’s life in his hands, I’m his pawn.
Three years ago, I did the unthinkable. I escaped his prison with my brother, hoping for a fresh start. Desperate to leave the nightmare behind. But now, it’s happening all over again.
Maybe… maybe if I just did as my father said. If I just obeyed every cruel command, no matter how degrading or vile, I could save my brother.
The thought made my stomach churn, but the idea rooted itself in my mind, growing like a weed I couldn’t pull out. What choice do I have? Elian was innocent in all of this.
If sacrificing myself meant he could finally live a life free from pain and fear, wasn’t it worth it?
“You have something that belongs to me.”
When he said those words, his voice was low, dangerous, and laced with possessiveness that sent a shiver down my spine. His eyes locked onto mine, staring so intensely it felt like he was peeping straight into my soul.
I tried to hold his gaze, to remain unaffected, but something in the way his jaw tightened and his nostrils flared made it hard to breathe. Was it my imagination, or was there a flicker of rage in those dark, burning eyes?
When his gaze shifted, traveling slowly down my body, taking in every detail like he was memorizing me. I felt exposed, vulnerable, like the thin fabric of dress which wasn’t enough to shield me from his gaze.
When his eyes stopped on my arm, the torn sleeve revealing the wipe wound across my skin, his expression darkened further. His toung poked his inside of skin, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw something beneath the fury. Concern?
No. It had to be my imagination. A man like him didn’t feel concern. Not for someone like me.
“What the fuck happened?” he demanded, his voice sharp, leaving no room for excuses.
I slapped his hand away, hiding the fear twisting inside me with fake defiance. “None of your damn business,” I snapped, my voice cold, daring him to push me.
His eyes darkened, his fury shifting into something more dangerous, something lethal. Before I could even breathe, he pulled out his gun.
A gunshot cracked through the air.
My father’s scream followed, raw and agonizing, as he crashed to the floor, clutching his bleeding leg.
I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. My thoughts raced wildly. He had just shot the fucking mafia boss of Russia. Did he have any idea what he’d done? The Russian mafia wouldn’t rest until they buried him and his family six feet under.
But Dante stood there, calm and untouchable, towering over my father like a goddamn king. His gun dangled loosely in his hand, his expression cold and unreadable. “This,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “is a warning. No one touches what’s mine.”
His words slammed into me, making my pulse race.
Then, his fiery eyes locked onto mine. His voice softened, but his grip was anything but gentle. “We’re leaving,” he said, grabbing my wrist tightly..
I ripped my hand away, glaring at him with all the defiance I had left. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
His jaw clenched, his patience hanging by a thread, “You don’t have a fucking choice.”
I shook my head, panic clawing at my chest. If I left with him, Macro would come after Elian. My little brother wasn’t safe not yet.
“No,” I whispered, trying to stay strong. “I can’t. My brother—”
“I’ll take care of that” Dante cut in, his tone final.
I laughed bitterly, my heart breaking. “You think you can? Soon enough, the Russian mafia will be breathing down your neck.”
He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around my wrist like a vice.” Let them come. I’ve built an empire on the ruins of men who thought they could challenge me. I don’t fear the Russian mafia or anyone else in this world”
1/2
Chapter 9
“I don’t trust you, Dante Romano. Not a damn word you say.” I glared at him, my eyes burning with all the hate I felt. But he didn’t give a shit.
Without warning, he grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. I kicked and struggled, but his grip only tightened.
“Put me down, you bastard!” I snarled, but he didn’t even flinch.
He carried me onto his sleek black jet, the words ‘Romano Empire‘ gleaming on the side like a warning. Desperate, I bit his arm, hard enough to draw blood. He hissed but didn’t stop, only hauling me into a private bedroom on board and tossing me onto the bed like I was his possession.
My eyes glared at me and before he could say anything. I pull out a dragger, i stole from my fathers men. The situation i was in was all because of this motherfucker. He betrayed me. I was about to stabe him but he slapped my hand making the dragger fall as his hand wrapped around my throat, his warm breath ghosting over my lips.
“Elara Ashford,” he murmured, his voice dark and dangerous, “the only thing keeping you breathing right now is me. Hate me all you want, but with me, you stay alive long enough to do it.”
I swallowed hard, my mind spinning in circles. He was the man who betrayed me, who was now taking about keeping me alive. My heart pounded against my chest, torn between the fear of my Macro Mathew Drago’s wrath and the dangerous pull of the devil standing before me.
If I left with Dante, would Elian be safe? Or was I walking right into a bigger mess? Drago wasn’t the forgiving type. He was ruthless, relentless. I knew exactly what he could do.
But Dante… he was dangerous in a whole different way. The way he looked at me, the way he claimed me, it did things to me I didn’t want to admit. He was possessive, controlling, and so damn unpredictable. And yet, deep down, no matter how much I hated it, a part of me wanted to believe him.
His gaze dropped to my wounded forehead, his fingers tracing the cut before sliding down to my split lips. My heart pounded as his hand cupped my jaw, his thumb tracing the line of my throat. I tried to fight it, tried to hold onto my anger, but the way he touched me, made it impossible to think straight.
His touch was slow, teasing, almost gentle, too gentle for a man like him. My breath hitched as his thumb again brushed over my bottom lip, and then, without warning, he pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth. Heat pooled in my stomach, my eyes fluttering shut as a betraying sigh escaped my liped.
“Amore,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my skin, “You remember your promise. You’ll do anything I say.”
AD
