Mafia's Pet

It was past midnight when Aria heard the front door close somewhere in the mansion.

Footsteps.

Heavy. Calm. Confident.

Dante.

She quickly pulled the blanket over herself and turned to face the wall, closing her eyes. Her heart was already thudding, but she kept her breathing slow and steady, pretending to be asleep.

The door creaked open.

She heard it.

He stepped in quietly.

For a few seconds, the room was silent. Then, she felt the mattress dip.

He was sitting beside her.

Aria tried to stay still, but her shoulders tensed.

Dante didn't say a word. He just stared at her for a long time. His scent , leather, smoke, and something expensive ,was stronger now. His presence filled the entire room.

Then suddenly ...he yanked her up.

"Ah...!" she yelped, completely caught off guard.

Before she could even react, his hands gripped her waist and pulled her forward, forcing her to sit on his lap, her legs straddling him.

"Get off me," she hissed, trying to push his chest.

He didn't budge.

"You thought I'd believe that you were asleep?" he said, voice low and sharp.

Aria glared at him. "Let me go."

He pulled her closer, hands firm around her waist.

"Don't play games with me, Aria," he said.

She opened her mouth to snap at him , but froze when their eyes locked.

His eyes weren't angry. They were hungry.

Dark. Focused. Dangerous.

He leaned in, his lips barely brushing her ear.

Then he whispered:

"Mi stai facendo impazzire. Se ti avessi qui ogni notte, non ti lascerei camminare per giorni."

(You're driving me insane. If I had you every night, I wouldn't let you walk for days.)

Aria gasped, her eyes wide. Her body stiffened.

Her heart hammered.

"Bastardo," she breathed.

Dante smirked, his hands sliding up her thighs.

"You're mine," he said, his voice rough. "You don't try to run from me again."

She was still sitting on him, breathing heavy, unsure if she wanted to slap him or fall apart right there.

"Get off me," she said again, but this time her voice was lower, shakier.

He leaned in just a little, lips near her mouth.

"You should stop pretending," he whispered.

Then...he let her go.

Aria scrambled off his lap, her legs shaky. She stood near the bed, heart racing, eyes darting anywhere but his.

Dante stood too, adjusting his shirt, that usual calm expression back on his face.

He turned to her before leaving the room.

"Sleep well," he said.

Then he walked out.

Aria didn't move for a long time.

She just stood there, breath caught in her chest, wondering why the hell she reacted the way she did.

She hated him.

So why was her body still burning?

The sun poured into the room through the curtains, warm and bright. Aria had barely slept.

She spent the night pacing, thinking, burning.

Every time she closed her eyes, she felt his hands again. His breath. His words.

"You're mine."

That damn whisper in her ear.

She hated him. She hated the way he touched her like she belonged to him. She hated that her body responded ...that she gasped. That he saw it.

No.

She refused to be toyed with like some pet.

If Dante wanted to play games, fine. She was done being the quiet, scared girl hiding under a blanket.

Aria got dressed. Not in the silk dresses he had picked out for her ..she ignored all of those. Instead, she threw on a plain black tank top and bagggy denim jeans she could find.

She tied her hair back in a messy ponytail and marched out of the room, past the guards who tried to question her. She ignored them. Her heart pounded, but she kept walking.

She knew where his room was now.

When she got there, she didn't knock. She pushed the door open.

Dante was standing shirtless in front of a tall mirror, drying his damp hair with a towel. His tattoos were fully exposed, muscles flexing with each motion.

He looked at her through the mirror.

Aria stepped inside.

Dante turned, eyebrows lifted slightly.

"Well," he said, voice calm. "You came to me."

"Yeah," she said. "Because I'm tired of you thinking you control everything."

Dante didn't move. He just watched her.

"I'm not scared of you," Aria said, walking closer. "You think you own me because you threw money at a bunch of scum who sold me like property?"

His jaw flexed, but he still didn't speak.

"I'm not your toy, Dante. You don't get to decide when I eat, sleep, scream, or shut up."

She was right in front of him now, face to face.

"So if you want to threaten me again," she said, "do it now."

There was a pause.

A long one.

Then, slowly, Dante stepped forward , so close their bodies nearly touched.

"You came all this way," he said, voice low, "just to stand in front of me and talk about control?"

"I came to remind you I'm not yours," she snapped.

He smirked. "Then stop shaking."

She hadn't realized she was.

She stepped back quickly, chest heaving.

Dante stepped closer again, voice quieter this time.

"You can keep running into my fire, Aria, but you'll burn."

She stared at him, heart racing, palms sweaty, but she didn't drop her eyes.

"I'd rather burn than break."

Dante smiled like she amused him in a dangerous way.

"I like that."

Aria turned and walked out before she did something stupid. Before she let herself fall into that heat again.

She didn't slam the door.

But she wanted to.

.

.

.

Aria had spent the entire day convincing herself she didn't care.

That confrontation in his room that morning had left her feeling powerful. In control. For the first time since all this began, she felt like she'd taken back something.

She didn't see him after that.

No guards. No messages. No punishment.

She thought maybe he got the message. Maybe he backed off.

By nightfall, she'd stopped watching the door.

She was already under the sheets in her nightdress ,soft, thin, her skin still warm from the long bath she took to calm her nerves , when the door handle turned.

She sat up fast.

Dante stepped in, closing the door behind him without saying a word.

He was dressed in all black again. His sleeves were rolled, the top buttons of his shirt undone. The veins in his forearms were showing. His watch glinted under the warm light of the room.

She could tell by the way he moved ,slow, deliberate , that he had one thing on his mind.

Aria's heart picked up.

He didn't speak right away. He just stared at her, standing a few feet away, jaw clenched, eyes darker than usual.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

His reply was immediate. Low.

"You."

Her lips parted.

The air in the room changed.

He took a slow step toward her.

"I gave you the day," he said. "I watched you strut in, throw your little fire, and walk out like you owned the place."

She stood now, facing him directly.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You're lying," he said. "But it's cute."

She scoffed. "You think I'm some game you can win."

Dante tilted his head. "No, baby. I already won."

He was in front of her now. Close. Closer than before.

Her chest was almost brushing his.

She hated how warm he felt.

"You think you can mess with me and I'll just take it?" she snapped.

"You came into my room this morning. With that mouth. That attitude. Dressed like you didn't care if I snapped and took you right there."

"I did it to remind you I'm not your possession."

"You are," he said, bluntly. "From the moment you walked into that club and looked me in the eye like you had a choice."

Aria tried to move back, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward flush against him.

She gasped.

He leaned in and whispered.

"Tu sei la mia ossessione, Aria. Mi sveglio con te nella testa. E non mi fermerò finché non sarai mia completamente."

(You are my obsession, Aria. I wake up with you in my head. And I won't stop until you're completely mine.)

Her knees nearly gave out.

And to her shock..

He kissed her.

Rough, deep. Aeia widened her eyes in disbelief. She didnt expect him to do so fast.

His hands slid around her waist, gripping her tighter, pulling her to straddle him as he dropped onto the edge of the bed. She landed in his lap with a shocked breath, her hands pressing against his chest.

"Stop it," she whispered, but her voice trembled.

"You want me to stop?" he whispered back, lips brushing her jaw.

"Yes," she said. But her fingers were still there, still holding onto him.

His hands traveled up her thighs, slow, burning.

She shuddered.

"You're shaking," he said.

"I'm not yours."

He smiled against her skin.

"You keep saying that like it's still up for debate."

He kissed the curve of her neck, and her body betrayed her again ,a soft sound slipped out before she could catch it.

She tensed, horrified.

"See?" he whispered. "You hate me, but your body loves me."

She finally pushed herself off his lap, breathing fast, eyes wide.

"Don't touch me again," she warned, her voice cracking.

Dante stood calmly, smoothing his shirt like nothing had happened.

"You can run again," he said coolly, walking to the door. "But you already know I'll find you."

He opened the door, looked at her one last time.

"Sleep well, principessa."

Then he was gone.

And Aria?

She stood in the middle of the room, hands trembling, heart screaming, cheeks flushed and she hated that her lips still burned from his kiss.