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I walk into a large room that turns out to be a gym. There’s a boxing ring in the middle where Dante and another man are fighting. There’s also a man standing next to a pair of bells.
Thank fuck.
Dante has on a pair of blue shorts, shoes, and a sweaty T-shirt. He dances around the ring, sparring with a man about the same size as him. He’s entirely focused on his opponent and doesn’t notice I’m here.
So I watch him.
His arms and face are covered in sweat. Every punch causes his muscles to flex. I lean over what looks like a padded sawhorse and just stare. For some reason, his working out makes me think of sex. The way his body moves as he thrusts into me. Sweaty bodies crashing together, nails digging into his back, the sounds of sex ringing in the air. Dante breathing hard into my ear as he pumps his hips faster and faster until–
A large bell rings, which breaks me out of the spell. I look up, and Dante is looking down at me with a grin on his face.
“Care to join me, Bambola?” he asks, breathing heavily.
“I-I…” I shake my head and back away. “No, no, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” he asks. “You don’t want a chance to punch me in the face?”
The man in the ring with him is now standing next to me, holding a pair of small gloves, matching Dante’s.
I take the gloves, remove my shoes, and bend over as I pass through the ring's ropes. When I look up, Dante is holding his bare hand out to me. I take it, and he pulls me up and forward, forcing my body flush against his.
“Punching me in the face is breaking the rules, but I’m willing to make an exception,” he says with that grin on his face.
Is he a masochist? Or maybe he thinks I can’t hit him?
He helps me put on the gloves, and my body gets that same rush from when he touched me. I try to suppress my reaction, but the look of satisfaction on Dante’s face tells me he already knows he’s getting to me.
With our gloves on, we part and start walking around the ring. Dante is on one side, and I’m on the other. I notice that the other men left, leaving me alone with Dante.
Lord, help me.
“Go,” he says, taking a few steps forward while I take a giant leap back.
“Come on, Serenity. You won’t get another chance like this. Come at me.”
I take a few steps forward and try hitting his glove. The slap as the rubber makes contact gives me the confidence to try again. So I hit again and got his glove.
I punch forward and take a step forward, getting his forearm. I don’t imagine I’m doing much to hurt him, but I’m still getting this rush.
We go back and forth, sometimes, he hits me, and sometimes I hit him. We block. We walk in circles. I can feel sweat running down my back.
I go to hit him in the chest, and somehow, he grabs my arm and pulls me to him. We trip and fall to the ground. My chest collides with Dante as he cushions our fall. He grunts as he hits the floor and wraps his arms around me.
Quickly, I move to get off him, but he holds me there, seated in his lap.
We’re both breathing heavily, and I can feel the tension thicken. It’s been growing since we started to fight, but now it feels like you could cut it with a knife.
Dante cups my cheek, then runs his finger down my neck and between my breasts until it gets to the patch of skin peaking out from under my shirt. For a dangerous man, he has a gentle touch. His thumb teases the skin just above my waistline and I shiver.
I’m realizing that he’s a man of patience and precision. He doesn’t do things haphazardly. He’s always thinking ahead. In fact, my bet is that he’s still looking for my father, regardless of if I take his offer.
Perhaps it would give me some time if I accepted it now. Something to keep him calm and think that he will get what he wants until I can figure out how to get out of here.
“I’ll do it.”
His brow quirks up. “Do what?”
“I’ll have your baby. In exchange for the debt being settled.”
