2 – Rules of the Game

Ava's POV

I should have been asleep.

The bed in my new penthouse suite was made of soft black silk, the mattress molding to my body as if it had been crafted for me. Every inch of it whispered luxury, the kind most people only dreamed of. I should have been resting, letting the reality of my new job settle in, adjusting to the fact that my life had changed forever.

But I couldn’t.

Not with that sound echoing through the walls.

A low, guttural moan. Deep. Rough. Almost primal.

I sat up, my pulse hammering against my ribs, my senses on high alert. The sound had come from Dante’s room.

I wasn’t supposed to go in there.

Rule #1: Never enter his bedroom after midnight.

The rule had been clear, unyielding. An unspoken warning woven into the very fabric of my contract. I knew I should ignore it, knew I should lie back down, close my eyes, and pretend I heard nothing. But something about that sound—something dark and unholy—made my stomach twist in ways I didn’t understand. It wasn’t just fear. It was curiosity. It was something deeper, something far more dangerous.

I slipped out of bed, my bare feet silent against the cool marble floors.

The penthouse was dark, the city skyline glowing through the glass walls. The sight should have anchored me, should have reminded me that I was here for a reason, that I had a job to do and rules to follow. But every instinct told me to turn around, to forget whatever was happening behind that door.

Instead, I moved closer.

My breath hitched as I reached for the handle, my fingertips brushing against the cold metal. I hesitated. Just for a second.

Then I pushed the door open.

The Forbidden Sight

The room was bathed in low, golden light. It smelled of smoke and something richer—something metallic.

And Dante was standing in the center of it.

His back was to me, his broad shoulders rising and falling with slow, deep breaths. His suit jacket lay discarded on the floor, the black silk of his shirt clinging to his muscled frame, the fabric stretched taut across his powerful form. He was still, too still, like a predator that had just finished feeding.

But that wasn’t what had my body frozen in place.

It was the woman in his arms.

Or rather, what was left of her.

Her body hung limply against his chest, her neck tilted at an unnatural angle. Her dark hair cascaded over his arm, a stark contrast to her pale, lifeless skin. His hands were wrapped around her waist, holding her as if she were weightless.

And his lips—his mouth—was pressed to her throat.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

I should have screamed.

But I didn’t.

Because the way he held her, drank from her—it was so unholy, so obscene—that I felt it deep in my stomach.

Heat. Hunger. Arousal.

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering so loudly I was sure he could hear it. My body shouldn’t have reacted this way. I should have been disgusted, horrified.

Instead, I was mesmerized.

My breath caught in my throat. And that was the moment I made a mistake.

A sound.

A barely-there gasp.

Dante stilled.

Then, slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pulled back from the woman’s neck.

A drop of blood rolled from the corner of his mouth, sliding over his lower lip before he licked it away with the slow, deliberate flick of his tongue.

Then, he turned.

His gaze locked onto mine.

And I knew—I had just broken the one rule he wouldn’t forgive.

Punishment

In the blink of an eye, he was in front of me.

I gasped as my back slammed into the wall, my breath stolen by the sheer force of his presence. His body caged me in, the heat radiating from him, overwhelming and intoxicating. The scent of smoke and blood clung to him, mingling with something deeper, something undeniably him.

His fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to look up into his eyes.

“What,” he murmured, his voice dark and dangerously soft, “did I tell you about this room?”

My breath came in short, shallow gasps. “I—”

His grip tightened, but not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind me that he could.

“I gave you rules, little one.” His voice was like a growl, low and reverberating through my bones. “And you disobeyed me.”

A shiver ran through me. Not of fear. Of something else.

I should have apologized. Begged for forgiveness. But instead, I said the stupidest, most reckless thing I could.

“Why do you care?” I whispered. “You already have her.”

Dante went completely still.

Then, something shifted behind his eyes. Something primal.

His grip on my chin loosened, only for his other hand to slide down, fingers trailing along my collarbone. The touch was featherlight, teasing, igniting something dangerous beneath my skin.

“You don’t understand what you just did, do you?” he murmured.

I swallowed hard, my entire body burning under his touch.

“You think this is a game?” His fingers ghosted over the swell of my breast, just enough to make me arch into him.

I sucked in a sharp breath. “I—”

His mouth was suddenly at my ear.

“If you were mine, Ava…” He dragged my name out like a sin, his breath cold against my fevered skin. “I would ruin you for this.”

A shock of heat pulsed between my thighs.

His hand slid lower, down the center of my stomach, over the waistband of my shorts.

I gasped, my body betraying me, needing more.

But just as his fingers brushed against my heat—he stopped.

And stepped back.

I almost collapsed.

Dante exhaled slowly, as if reining in a very fragile, very dangerous control.

His gaze burned into mine, something feral and undeniably possessive flickering beneath the ice.

“You belong to me now.” His voice was a whispered promise. A threat. A vow.

His fingers skimmed over my throat, pressing lightly against my pulse.

“But until you’re ready…” His lips curled, a dark, devastating smirk. “You’ll have to learn to wait.”

Then he was gone.

And I was left shaking against the wall, drenched in need, knowing that I had just awakened something far more dangerous than I was ready for.

----------

That night, I barely slept.

Not because of what I had seen.

Not because of what he had done.

But because of what I had felt.

Because when I closed my eyes, I imagined his hand sliding lower.

And I knew that soon, I mean, the next time, he wouldn’t stop.