Page 4 of Savage Ambition

Dante Gennaro stood before me, his familiar smirk spreading across his face as he leaned against the doorframe. Not the look-alike I’d half expected, but the actual man who had tormented my dreams since high school.

“Huh. I should have known you’d end up here eventually,” he said, his voice carrying none of the surprise his eyes betrayed.

I bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He moved aside to let me enter, closing the door with a soft click that carried the finality of a coffin sealing shut. “Since you’re so obsessed with me, this is the only logical outcome.”

“I’m obsessed? You’re one to talk!” My voice rose despite the danger of challenging someone connected to the criminal underworld.

“You don’t deny it.” His eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to appear braver than I felt. “Neither do you.”

“At least Jace’s comment earlier in class makes more sense now. As if getting fucked would somehow make him a ‘real’ man. Whatever that means.”

Trying to calm my temper, I glanced around the room. It resembled a glorified penthouse suite at a luxurious business hotel, but subtle details betrayed its true purpose. The bed was larger than standard, with discreet restraint points built into the frame. The nightstands probably held items no hotel would provide. Most alarming were the floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed the glittering city below, the lights of Manhattan like stars at our feet. It was as though Dante wanted the world to witness whatever happened in that room.

He belonged there in his tailored suit, looking every inch the Mafia prince who commanded life and death with a single word in his criminal empire. The rumors about the Gennaro family’s brutality felt more personal and terrifying now.

“How do you explain this?” I asked, gesturing around the space.

He shrugged with calculated indifference. “What’s there to explain?”

“What are you doing here?”

“That’s none of your business.” He narrowed his eyes. When I started to address him by name, he cut me off. “Don’t call me that here.”

“Do you seriously expect me to use that ridiculous title in the book?” I challenged.

“Most call me Dragon.” His voice dropped to a purr that sent heat through my body. “After all, it’s difficult to scream the full thing when you’re coming.”

Heat rushed to my face, but I refused to show weakness. “I’m not calling you that, either.”

“As long as you don’t use my real name, I don’t care.” His fingers worked his cufflinks with practiced efficiency, the gold catching the light like brass knuckles.

I watched his nimble movements, wondering how many throats those hands had crushed. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand why it’s hard to moan something as awkward as President⁠—”

“No, why you’re here.” The blush refused to leave my face.

“Because I work here,” he responded dryly as he took off his suit jacket and let it fall to the floor.

I struggled against my rising frustration and fear. “Yes, but why are you working here?”

He stalked closer, using his height to tower over me. “What difference does it make? Why do you care what I do with my body?”

“This isn’t you.” I couldn’t understand how someone as prideful as Dante could stand to work in a brothel, even if it was owned by someone in his family.

“What would you know about that?” He loosened his tie with a flourish. “What makes you so certain this isn’t who I am?”

“I know you.” I watched as the tie slithered to the floor like a snake.

“Do you?” Dante wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me closer. “How exactly do you know me?”

The heat of his body against mine scattered my thoughts. I jerked away, putting distance between us. “Knock it off!”

He laughed, the sound cold and mocking as he unbuttoned his shirt.