Dangerous Seduction

Chapter 23: Dangerous Seduction

The air inside Dante's mansion was suffocating, thick with an unspoken battle between power and resistance. Isla paced the room, her heart hammering in her chest as she glanced at the locked door. She was trapped, caged like a bird in Dante's gilded prison, forced to submit to his rules, his authority.

She refused.

She wouldn't break.

But Dante was relentless.

She had spent the entire day testing him—denying his commands, refusing to eat, staring him down with cold defiance. She wanted to provoke him, to push him to his limits, because anger was easier to face than the twisted desire that lingered in his gaze whenever he looked at her.

Now, she was about to pay the price.

The heavy creak of the door sent a jolt of awareness through her body.

Dante stepped inside, his dark gaze locked onto her as he slowly closed the door behind him.

A predator stalking his prey.

Her breath hitched as he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his broad chest. The low lighting of the room cast dangerous shadows over his chiseled face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the intensity of his stormy eyes.

"You never learn, dolcezza," he murmured, his voice deep and laced with amusement.

Isla tilted her chin up, refusing to shrink under his stare. "I learn just fine. I just don't follow orders."

Dante let out a low, dark chuckle as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "That's where you're wrong." His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, his touch deceptively gentle. "You follow my orders. You belong to me now."

She scoffed, slapping his hand away. "I belong to no one."

His smirk didn't falter. If anything, it deepened. "Is that so?"

In one swift move, Dante grabbed her wrist, yanking her flush against him. Her breath caught as the heat of his body enveloped hers, his scent—rich, dark, and intoxicating—clouding her senses.

"You fight me at every turn," he murmured, his fingers trailing up her arm, sending a shiver down her spine. "Yet your body betrays you."

Her pulse pounded.

She hated him.

She hated the way he made her feel—weak, vulnerable, hungry.

Isla clenched her jaw. "You think seduction is punishment?"

Dante smirked. "No, bella. I think making you crave me, despite your hatred, is the cruelest torture of all."

Her stomach twisted as his lips brushed the curve of her jaw, a teasing whisper of contact that sent fire racing through her veins.

She should push him away.

She should fight.

But when his mouth finally claimed hers, all logic disappeared.

The kiss was fire and fury. A battle neither of them was willing to lose.

Dante's grip tightened on her waist, pulling her closer, making her feel every hard inch of him. His tongue swept into her mouth, coaxing, demanding, consuming. A war of dominance played out between them, neither willing to surrender.

She bit his lip in defiance, but he only groaned, his grip tightening as he deepened the kiss, punishing her with his desire.

Her body betrayed her—her fingers tangling in his hair, her back arching against him, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Dante tore his lips from hers, his breathing uneven, his eyes dark with something primal.

"You hate me," he murmured, dragging his thumb across her swollen lips. "But you want me."

She glared at him, refusing to answer.

He didn't need her words.

He already knew.

A slow, victorious smirk curled his lips as he leaned in, his mouth grazing her ear.

"You can lie to yourself all you want, dolcezza," he whispered. "But your body doesn't lie."

Her nails dug into his arms, anger and desire warring inside her. "You're a monster."

Dante chuckled, unbothered. "And yet, you can't resist me."

Before she could respond, he grabbed her wrists, forcing them above her head as he pushed her back against the wall. His mouth found her neck, his teeth scraping over sensitive skin, making her shudder.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sensation, trying to fight the way he unraveled her with every touch, every whisper.

"This is your punishment," he murmured against her skin. "Not pain. Not violence. Just this—making you crave what you claim to hate."

His hands trailed down her body, slow and torturous.

Isla gasped, her nails raking down his back as his mouth claimed hers again, harder this time, filled with possession.

Dante was ruthless.

Merciless.

And she was drowning.

By the time he pulled away, Isla was breathless, shaken, her body trembling with need.

Dante smirked, satisfied.

He traced a finger down her cheek, his voice a husky whisper. "You're mine, Isla. No matter how much you fight it."

She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the aching pulse in her core.

Dante stepped back, watching her with dark amusement before turning toward the door.

"Get some rest, bella," he murmured before disappearing, leaving Isla alone with her ragged breaths and a horrifying realization.

She was in far too deep.