Page 82 of Ruthless Desire

She looks up at me, her eyes dark and unreadable, but there’s a strength in her that I’ve always admired. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” I say, a dark smile curving my lips. “Because tonight, we remind them who I am.”

The villa’s doors open before us, and we step into the heart of the storm, into the violence that awaits. There’s no turning back now. This war will end only when I say it does.

Luca Corsini wanted to play this game. Now he’ll learn the rules.

And he’ll learn that in this world, there’s only one king.

***

The cool night air is replaced by the oppressive heat that fills the dimly lit room. My steps echo against the marble floor as I lead Natalie inside, her hand secure in mine. There’s a tangible tension in the air, a promise of violence that hangs over us like a storm cloud ready to break.

In the center of the room, bound and bloodied, kneels Luca Corsini. His head hangs low, blood matting his hair, his breath coming in ragged gasps. My men stand around him, their expressions as hard as stone, awaiting my command. The sight of Luca, reduced to nothing more than a pathetic, broken man, fills me with a cold satisfaction.

I release Natalie’s hand and step forward, each movement calculated, deliberate, as I close the distance between us. Luca’s eyes lift to meet mine, and I see the flicker of defiance still burning within him, a last, desperate attempt to hold onto whatever scrap of dignity he thinks he has left.

"Poor unfortunate soul," I say, my voice dripping with mock concern, the words a twisted lullaby as they leave my lips.

Luca’s eyes widen, the flicker of hope extinguished by the cold reality of what’s to come. “You thought you could challenge me. You thought you could take what’s mine. But you’re nothing, Luca. Nothing. You could never compare to me, not in this life or the next.”

“Dante,” he says, his voice trembling. “This isn’t necessary. We can talk, negotiate. My father—”

“Your father is a fool,” I cut him off, my voice a low, dangerous growl. “And so are you if you think there’s anything to negotiate. You want what’s mine, Luca. For that, you’ll pay with your life.”

I see the terror flare in his eyes, the realization that there’s no escape, no mercy to be found here. He starts to plead, his words tumbling over each other in a desperate attempt to save himself.

But it’s all noise, meaningless. The only thing that matters is the message I’m about to send.

I step forward, pulling Natalie with me, positioning her so she has a clear view of what’s about to happen. She resists, her breath hitching in her throat, but I hold her firm, my grip unyielding.

“Watch,” I command, my voice a whip crack in the stillness. “Watch what happens to those who dare to challenge me.”

Natalie’s transfixed, her eyes wide as she takes in the scene before her. I can see the way she’s drawn to it, the way she’s drawn to me—to the power, the control, the sheer dominance that I wield over this man’s life.

It’s intoxicating, the way her gaze follows my every move, the way her breath catches as I circle Luca like a predator sizing up its prey.

I smile, a slow, dangerous curve of my lips, and reach into my jacket, pulling out the knife I’ve carried with me for years. The blade catches the light, gleaming with deadly intent, and I see the way Natalie’s breath hitches, the way her body tenses in anticipation.

“This is a message,” I say, my voice a cold whisper, “to Luca’s father, to everyone who thinks they can defy me.”

With practiced precision, I move toward Luca, my grip on the knife firm and steady. There’s no rush, no need for haste. This is an art, a display of power and control, and I want Natalie to see every moment, to feel the weight of what it means to be by my side.

I crouch down again, this time beside Luca, and press the blade to his skin, just beneath his collarbone. He flinches, but I hold him steady, my other hand gripping his shoulder with bruising force.

Luca’s eyes closed now, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he struggles against the inevitable. But there’s no escape, no mercy. Only the slow, agonizing pain that I will inflict upon him.

I drag the blade across his chest, the cut shallow at first, a thin line of blood welling up in its wake. He gasps, the sound raw and desperate, but I’m far from finished. I want him to suffer, to feel every moment of the life draining out of him, and I want Natalie to witness it all.

As I make the next cut, deeper this time, I glance at Natalie, watching the way her eyes darken, the way she leans forward slightly, as if drawn to the violence, to the power that I wield with such ease. She’s captivated, and I can see the way her body responds—the way her breath quickens, her pupils dilate, her lips part in a silent gasp.

“Keep watching,” I murmur, my voice low and intimate, meant only for her. “See how easily I can destroy him. See how powerful you are by my side.”

I press the blade harder, twisting it slightly as I carve into Luca’s flesh, and his screams fill the room, a symphony of agony that only serves to heighten the moment. But even through the pain, I see the fear in his eyes, the realization that he is nothing compared to me.

“This is for you, solnyshko,” I say, my gaze locked on Natalie’s.

With each cut, I maim him slowly, methodically, taking my time to ensure that every stroke of the blade is a show of my power. Luca’s body convulses with pain, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the blood pools beneath him, staining the marble floor.