Page 16 of Ruthless Sinner
“Two-bit, cheating, fake gangster,” I grumble as I discard my delicates.
“Fake gangster?”
The echo of my words makes me jump. My heart leaps into my throat as I turn around to see Dante leaning against the door frame with his sleeves rolled up and his arms crossed over his chest. “Jesus Christ,” I glare. “You should wear a bell or something.”
His expression remains rigid. “I came to see if you wanted rose petals or lavender bath salts.”
“It’s your home,” I sigh. “Do whatever you want.”
Dante’s lengthy strides devour the space between us. He towers over me, his imposing figure casting a shadow as he stands before me. His expression is one of stern disapproval, with a deep furrow etched between his brows. His intense gaze bores into me, making my heart race with both fear and excitement. “What’s your problem with me?”
“Presently or in the grand scheme of things?”
“Humor me.”
He acts like nothing I say will affect him, so I aim to hurt his feelings. “You’re a kid with daddy’s name and money funding a hostage situation that will end badly. You are putting my life in jeopardy, and you’re going to get yourself killed. This is all fun and games for you, but it’s my life. My father will burn your mansion down with you inside of it. Then, when you’re char and ash, he’ll take me back home and do God knows what to me. I expect prolonged beatings, broken bones, and maybe a few missing fingers and toes. It’s nice to get fucked by someone who knows what they’re doing, but this is a detour. At some point, I will be back on the road, and my journey doesn’t end with a happily ever after. It ends with me cowering in fear in front of a man who would rather see me dragged by my hair through the mud than in a bathtub with rose petals and lavender fucking bath salts.”
Dante’s jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Got that out of your system?”
My breath comes in short bursts, my chest heaving up and down. My naked body is covered in a layer of filth—blood, grass, and dirt cling to my skin, creating a grotesque mosaic. I can feel the dull ache in my muscles and wrists from what happened between us outside, but it pales in comparison to the overwhelming sense of exhaustion that washes over me. “Yes. For now,” I stipulate.
“Good. Do you want rose petals or lavender bath salts? Or both?”
I can see anger and tension bubbling beneath the surface, but he never reveals it to me. “I can’t fucking stand you.”
Dante grabs me by the wrist and leads me out of the closet. “I know,” he comments quietly. “I don’t care.”
His unwavering patience silences me, leaving me at a loss for words. His gentle touch humbles me, reminding me of my own vulnerabilities. Dante guides me to the bathroom and gestures toward the bathtub; its gleaming porcelain is inviting and comforting. Warm steam rises from the water, filling me with a sense of relaxation and indulgence. “I’ll do both,” he decides. As I climb into the porcelain tub, he busies himself, grabbing containers from beneath the sink.
I lower myself into the soapy water as he pours bath salts all around me. I let the bubbles creep up to my waist and then stretch toward my neck as he scatters rose petals across the top of the water.
“Why are you doing this?” I’m too exhausted to fight anymore; the fighting doesn’t bother him, anyway.
Dante puts the jars back where he found them and pulls out a couple of rags. There’s a stool next to the bathtub, and he sits on it, dipping one of the rags into the soapy, warm water. “Why not? You’ve been abused your entire life, but you still stand up to your father, sneak out, and live your life.”
“Because I’m stupid,” I point out. “A smart person would do what Tommaso asks. An intelligent woman would be meek and subservient because they know that’s what he wants.” I know that would make my life easier, but I can’t reconcile myself to be submissive to my father.
He brings the rag up to my shoulder and starts to gently scrub the dirt off, talking all the while. “You think you’d still be alive if you were weak and compliant? Men like to dominate and destroy women. If Tommaso had succeeded in breaking you, he would have discarded you like a piece of trash. Maybe he would have kept you around for a few more years just to witness your slow deterioration under his cruel reign, but eventually, he would have had you killed. He would have grown bored of your existence.”
Dante’s touch feels nice, but paired with the cruel words coming from his mouth, I am feeling a mix of emotions. “Is that what you want from me? To break me?”
He stops in his ministrations for a fraction of a second before continuing. With gentle hands and a tender touch, Dante submerges the cloth in the steaming water. The rich scent of soap and herbs fills my nostrils as he brings the warm fabric to my face. With careful strokes, he wipes away the caked blood and grime from my skin, the once-white rag now stained with evidence of our struggle.
After a long, contemplative silence, he finally speaks. “You’re like a wild horse, Adalina. Untamed and spirited, yet captivating. I want to tame you, but not at the cost of breaking your spirit. I want to see you follow my commands. I want to protect you from danger. But I also want to give you the freedom to run wild and untethered. And maybe if I’m lucky enough, you’ll allow me to run free beside you.” His words are laced with unexpected longing and admiration.
A heavy, unrelenting lump lodges itself in my throat. “I don’t understand.”
He slides off the stool, only to land on the floor on his knees. Dante shuffles around the edge of the tub to get better access to my body. As he’s cleaning me up, he meets my gaze. “I don’t understand, either. But I look at you, and I feel something.”
The little voice in my head reminds me that he’s promised to another. His sweet nothings and passionate embraces may hold me captive, but they’re empty gestures. I am merely a prisoner to his desires, a plaything for his pleasure. His heart belongs to someone else; I am just a temporary distraction.
“Feel less.” I harden against his touch. “I don’t want your pity.”
Patient, gentle Dante has his limits. He gets to his feet without another word and drops the rag in the bathtub. His demeanor changes before my very eyes. “Suit yourself. But you should know that my pity is better than my ire. I took Tommaso’s daughter when he wouldn’t pay his debts. What do you think I’ll take from you?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” I look down at the bubbles. “What can you take from a woman who has nothing?”
Dante walks toward the door, pausing only for a second to look back and say, “You’re a wild horse, Adalina. You have your spirit, you have your fire, and you have your confidence. It would be a shame if someone saw that and sought to bring you down a peg instead.”