The Bastard’s Betrayal by Katee Robert

Chapter 7

When Dante realized that Rose didn’t follow him out of the bedroom, he only barely managed to fight down the desire to go back there to haul her into the main area of the plane with him. He was playing a slow game, and that required patience. If she needed time to stew after that phone call with her sister, then so be it. Rose was a smart woman. She’d quickly realize that her best bet lay in playing along with him. She had no way out.

On the other hand, she showed every evidence of being a prideful creature, and he’d undermined that pride by shoving her in a trunk. It stood to reason it would take her some time to get over it.

But how fucking long?

He was bored.

They had another hour in the air. Frankly, he’d like to fast-forward to landing, just to see what Rose would do once she had her feet on the ground again. She probably already had plans in place to run the second she got the chance. Dante smiled. His woman was in for one hell of a disappointment.

As much as he relished outplaying her, though, a part of him wondered if this would be one blow too many to her pride. She lived in the same world he did. Surely she understood they didn’t play by normal people’s rules, and that included the line of too far.

There was no such thing as too far.

Still… He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the closed bedroom door. He honestly didn’t know how she would react, and that sent a frisson of irritation through him.

Life was so much easier when he didn’t have to give a fuck about other people’s feelings. His uncle didn’t expect it of him, and so he’d never bothered. He worked better when he was cold and ruthless and Lorenzo knew it, even if it meant he hadn’t fully trusted Dante since Lorenzo brought him in as a teenager. A junkyard dog was useful in a number of situations, but there always stood the risk it would bite the hand that fed it.

Over the years, when his uncle sent him to take care of problems, Dante had started making examples of his targets. It earned him something of a reputation in the city, and it was the main reason Kirill hadn’t taken any meaningful steps to cause an all-out conflict.

It also had the happy side effect of unsettling Lorenzo. His uncle feared him, which was occasionally a challenging line to dance. Keep the old man off his back, but not threaten him so overtly that Lorenzo decided he was more trouble than he was worth.

It wouldn’t be a balance he had to worry about for long. Matteo would take care of Lorenzo soon enough. His cousin was too ambitious and too savvy to let his father run wild the way he was now. Matteo was just taking his sweet fucking time pulling the trigger. He had his reasons, but if Lorenzo tried to pull some bullshit with Rose, Dante would take the choice away from his cousin and put the old man down himself.

The door opened before he could change his mind about giving her space, and Rose stepped through it. She looked… Fuck, he didn’t have the words to describe how she looked in his shirt, her hair mussed and her tits threatening to pop a button or two despite the fact she’d obviously tried to make space for them. With every step she took toward him, she flashed a glimpse of red lace between her thighs.

He decided right then and there that he’d fuck her while she wore his shirt at some point. Not yet, not while she still wanted to rip his throat out with her teeth, but soon.

Rose stopped just out of reach. Her makeup was no longer perfect, but it only added to the just-fucked look she had going on. She narrowed her pretty hazel eyes “I’m going to ask you this once, and I want an honest answer.”

“Sure,” he lied easily.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She said it so calmly, it took a moment for the words to penetrate. Rose didn’t give him a chance to respond, just continuing on in that painfully even tone that said she was seconds away from losing it. “You lied to me. You put me in a trunk. You made sure I disappeared at a specific time and place, and as a result, there’s a very real risk my family will be going to war. In what world would I ever agree to marry you?”

“In ours.”

She blinked. “There are lines, even in our world.”

“Are there?” He moved to the small cabinet bolted to the floor between the chairs they’d occupied earlier and pulled out a small bottle of whiskey. “Drink?”

“No.” The response was immediate and final. “The last thing I want right now is to share a drink with my abductor.” She really was magnificent like this. Nothing like the tame everyday girlfriend she’d played in his bed before. Oh, Rose had always been gorgeous, always been captivating, had always drawn his interest because he knew what lay beneath the mask, even if he hadn’t seen it for himself.

Now the masks were off. She wasn’t pretending any longer. Neither was he. Did she recognize him the same way he recognized her? They were alike in so many ways, were a perfect fucking match.

They were dangerous people capable of dangerous deeds.

They were predators.

Dante grabbed a glass and poured a healthy splash of whiskey into it. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, curious on how far he could push her. “How many of your aunts and uncles—and parents—had their relationships start with a little light kidnapping? More than a few.”

She dropped into the seat across from him hard enough to make her breasts bounce. He enjoyed the moment and enjoyed it even more when he finally raised his gaze to her face and found her glaring at him. She gave a delicate sneer. “This is not a little light kidnapping.”

“It’s the very definition of the word.” He smiled a little, just to see her tense in response. Dante motioned at her with his glass. “You’re unharmed and comfortable.”

“You. Put. Me. In. A. Trunk,” she gritted out.

“And you’re dodging the question, Rosa. That’s okay, I already know the answer.” He held up a finger. “James Halloran threw Carrigan O’Malley into a trunk after they fucked the first time, and now they’re married.” He held up a second. “Jude MacNamara knocked up your aunt Sloan before he ever admitted he was a hitman.”

“That’s not kidnapping,” she said mulishly.

“Close enough.” He shrugged and continued, “Your dearest Papa blackmailed your mother into essentially kidnapping herself the night they were married.”

Rose crossed her arms under her breasts and leaned back. “Stop quoting my family history at me.” She crossed one long leg over the other. “I know it better than anyone.”

“And yet we’re still arguing.” Not that he minded. At least she was talking to him. He’d half expected her to hide in the bedroom the moment she walked away the first time, perhaps to attempt to barricade herself in. But no, that’s something other Rose would have done when she’d worn her mask with him. The normal woman she’d played at being. This Rose was a Romanov, and she’d spend her entire time in his presence looking for the best angle to slip a blade between his ribs.

She was a revelation.

Rose started taking her hair out of its ridiculously complicated style. “Yes, we’re still arguing. You are not like my father or my uncles. You’re nowhere near the man they are.”

Dante shook his head slowly, watching bobby pin after bobby pin appear in a pile next to her. “You know better. I’m exactly the kind of man they are. We’re all cut from the same cloth—even you—but you have your panties in a twist because I hurt your pride, so you can’t admit it.”

She stared at him, her arms raised, half her dark hair hanging in wild waves around her face. “You’re out of your mind.”

He took a long drink of his whiskey. “It’s been said before.”

Rose leaned forward, flashing a healthy slice of her chest in the process. “You might have a stack of dossiers on me and my family, we might have done something resembling dating for several months, but you don’t know me.”

Dante drained his glass and sat back. He was determined to play this slowly, but her continued insistence that he couldn’t possibly know her worked its way under his skin. “I’ve known you plenty.”

“More sex insinuation? Cute.” She rolled her eyes. “We’ve already established that we both faked it. If that’s your basis for pulling this shit, the foundation is crumbling beneath your very feet.”

He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. The plane seats weren’t particularly roomy, so it shrank the distance between them considerably. Her bare knee was a few inches from his hand, and his fingers twitched with the need to touch her skin. Dante liked having all his fingers attached, though, so he resisted the urge. Barely.

Instead, he touched her in a different way. “Don’t pretend you lied about everything.”

“I did.” She said it so confidently, he almost believed it. Almost.

“Liar.” He shook his head. “You didn’t lie about how hard it is being the oldest, the one everyone depends on, the responsible party who has to keep your sisters in line. You didn’t lie about how hard it was being everything to everyone, or how much you appreciated that you didn’t have to do that with me.”

She went still. “Shut the fuck up, Dante.”

“I didn’t lie about everything, either.” He watched her expression closely. Was that interest? Impossible to say, so he pressed onward. “I didn’t lie about my mother, or the complicated feelings I have about her and her passing. I didn’t lie about the shit I liked to do with you, the movie marathons and finding little hole-in-the-wall bars to test out like they were a secret only we shared. I didn’t tell you the full truth, but not everything was fake.”

“Stop it,” she whispered. She looked away as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him. “You have me here. You don’t have to play pretend anymore. It’s cruel.”

He was tempted to continue, to drive the point home that no matter who they pretended to be with each other, the connection between them was real even before they ripped off each other’s masks. And after? He’d never wanted someone the way he wanted Rose. Given enough time, she’d want him, too. “Even if your argument weren’t complete bullshit, the fact remains that I’ll have plenty of time to know you after we’re married.”

“No. Absolutely not.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of her seat. “But I’m feeling gracious, so I’ll offer you a deal. Turn this plane around and return me home, and I’ll pretend this never happened.”

Her audacity had him barking out a laugh. The sound surprised him as much as it seemed to surprise her. He grinned. “The moment I take you back, if your family doesn’t snipe me on the runway, they’ll hunt me to the ends of the earth. Nice try.”

She gave him a surprisingly innocent look. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I bet you don’t.” He was good, but even he knew better than to take his chances against those odds. Back in the day, her uncle Jude MacNamara was one of the best hitmen around. Even thirty years out of the game—officially—he was one to be wary of. Technically, he was a private investigator now, choosing to find people instead of killing them, but Dante highly doubted he’d let his other skills dull. And that was just one member of the family. They all had colorful histories, and they were all deadly in their own ways. The only thing stopping Rose’s family from siccing one of their dogs on Dante was the fact he had Rose with him now.

Besides, if he killed one of her family members, it would be a setback he wasn’t sure his plan could survive. Rose and he might be similar in so many ways, but they differed on that subject. He liked his cousin and barely tolerated the rest of his family. She loved hers with a loyalty that baffled him. They were just people, and people were all motivated by selfish means, which led to them disappointing or betraying you.

He wanted to consider her naive for that belief, but history spoke for itself. The O’Malleys were insular and clannish and might fight amongst themselves on occasion but would join ranks and battle to the death the moment one of theirs was threatened. The greater Romanov family couldn’t say the same, but Dmitri Romanov had adopted at least that part of his wife’s family traits after marrying her. “This ends with my ring on your finger. Make your peace with it now.”

“Dante—”

“We’ll be landing soon.” He leaned back and motioned at her lap. “Buckle in, Rosa.”

For a moment, he thought she might argue, but she finally pulled the belt over her hips, glaring all the while. Neither of them spoke as the plane touched down. A smooth landing, but he expected nothing less from his man. Rose tensed, and he could practically see her flipping through scenarios and trying to decide the best way to turn the tables on him.

A few minutes later, the door opened with a faint sound. The pilot would stay in the cockpit while Dante and Rose left the plane; the better to provide reasonable doubt should it ever come to that. It wouldn’t, but the pilot was loyal, and Dante rewarded loyalty.

He propped his elbows on his knees. “You have—”

“Let me guess. Another of your choices.” Her gaze tracked the open door, and he waited for her to realize she couldn’t successfully make a run for it from here. It didn’t take long. She huffed out a breath and motioned an impatient hand in his direction. “Well, let’s hear it.”

“You can be a good girl and obey and enjoy a nice hot shower and decent meal when we get to our destination.” He paused. “Or you can be foolish, and I’ll lock you in a room with only a cot until you’re in a better mindset.”

“Wow, Dante. Such a difficult choice. So nuanced.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be good.”

No, she wouldn’t. She just wanted to gather as much information as possible before she made her first escape attempt. And there would be an escape attempt. He almost looked forward to it. He’d planned for every eventuality he could think of, but Rose had surprised him once before. She could very well do it again. A thrill rolled through his body at the thought. He truly didn’t know what she’d do, and he fucking loved that.

Dante stood and caught her looking at the bedroom door. “Leave the phone.”

“Why let me call in the first place?”

“Take a guess.”

She pressed her lips together and started for the door. “I can’t decide if you want the Verduccis to go to war with both Romanovs and Capparellis, or if you want us to go to war while the Verduccis laugh and watch. The latter won’t work. Even if Romeo doubts the truth of what happened, he can’t afford to ignore it just in case it is the truth. He’ll come after you.”

“I look forward to it.” If it was easier for her to believe that this was all some ruthless plan to start a war, then so be it. The only person he gave a fuck about right now was Rose, and he would have gone to even greater lengths to have her.

He chose not to admit the main reason he allowed the call was so she’d stop worrying that her family thought she was dead. He didn’t want Rose distracted. He wanted her focused on him entirely. If he told the truth about his motivations, Rose wouldn’t believe him, so he didn’t bother.

He followed her down the stairs. Dante slipped his hands into his pockets and watched Rose look around, horror slowly dawning on her pretty face. She usually had a relatively decent poker face, but it was nowhere in evidence now.

Now, she’d realize how foolish it was to continue to defy him.

They stood on a tiny runway in the middle of some cleared space with tall grass and weeds. A field, he supposed. There was space in case a landing plane couldn’t make it with the limited runway involved. It would be a rough ride when they ran out of pavement, though. He’d never personally experienced it—his people were the best—but it paid to have contingency plans. A forest bordered the field, trees thick enough to create the illusion of a green wall, lush and thick.

Rose turned to him, hazel eyes wide. “Where are we?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The space was intentionally generic, and he highly doubted Rose Romanov could identify the trees to narrow down the location. If it weren’t for potential cell tracking, he wouldn’t bother to keep the phone from her. As it was, the plane needed to get back in the air. He had several stops to make, each lingering just long enough to cloud the issue should someone—namely Cillian O’Malley—attempt to track their location.

Eventually, they’d find this place, but by the time they managed, this whole thing would be over.

Checkmate.

He watched the knowledge settle through Rose. She ran her fingers through her hair and gave a hoarse laugh. “Wow, you really went all out with this. I’d be impressed if I didn’t want to wring your neck.”

“Always violence with you, Rosa.” He jerked his chin to the east. “Let’s go.”

When they reached the edge of the asphalt, Rose balked. “Dante, I’m barefoot. You can’t honestly expect me to—what the fuck?”

He scooped her into his arms and kept going without missing a beat. She lifted her hand threateningly, and he stopped her with a glare. “A shower and a hot meal.”

“You are such a bastard.”

“Si. We’ve already covered this.”

She held herself stiff in his arms as he made his way through the field to the tree line. Behind them, the plane’s engines roared, and it shot down the runway and into the air. Right on schedule.

Dante wasn’t one to admit mistakes often, but it took all of fifteen minutes before he realized he should have chosen better shoes. And holding a tense Rose wasn’t exactly easy. If she’d just relax… He knew better than to order it, though. She might decide she wanted to run, and this area was filled with brambles and thorns. She’d rip her legs to shreds, and he’d still catch her. Better for them both to suffer through this short trip as they were.

By the time the house came into view, Dante was sweating, in pain, and fucking furious. He didn’t bother to gauge Rose’s reaction to the cabin. He just marched up to the front door, set her on her feet, and grabbed her arm. “Do. Not. Run.” When she jerked against his hold, he gave her a little shake. “I mean it, Rosa. I’m in a foul mood, and you’ll only get hurt.”

“I didn’t ask you to carry me.”

“Hush.” He maneuvered himself between her and the door and used his free hand to key in the code to unlock it. Then he shoved her in ahead of him. The first slap of air-conditioning after that hike was both painful and welcome. Dante kicked the door shut behind him, barely pausing to ensure it locked properly, and then headed for the bedroom. He registered Rose trying to dig in her heels, but it hardly made a difference. He was stronger and she had to know hat. Stubborn woman. “Shower,” he barked.

“I can walk without you dragging me behind you.”

He needed to get out of these filthy clothes and scrub himself down. Dante didn’t mind sweating, but he had no desire to linger in that state longer than strictly necessary. He wouldn’t be able to focus properly until he got cleaned up.

“Dante!”

He moved down the hall to the single bedroom and through it into the massive bathroom. The walk-in shower looked absolutely heavenly. He pushed Rose in that direction, already intent on unbuttoning his shirt before she took the first step. “Turn on the water and strip.”

“What is this? Some kind of peep show?” She moved into the shower, eyes going wide as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sweaty and tired, Rosa. Do not test me. Turn on the water.”

She muttered under her breath in Russian, but she turned on the water. There were half a dozen showerheads at varying heights, giving it the feel of a human car wash, but Dante didn’t give a fuck how ridiculous it seemed. It would do the trick. He shrugged out of his shirt and undid the front of his pants. “Take off your clothes.”

“I hate you.” But she unbuttoned the shirt with quick movements and let it drop to the floor. He waited, and with another curse, she shucked off her panties and kicked them away.

He studied her body as she stepped into the shower and moved to the trio of shower heads farthest from him. He’d had his mouth and hands all over her many times in the months they dated, and he’d spent the past three months rewriting those encounters to how they would have gone if he hadn’t been playing that asshole Jackson Smith. She looked different. He narrowed his eyes. She still had that bitable ass, but… “You lost weight,” he accused.

“It’s called stress. You’d be familiar if you weren’t a fucking asshole who didn’t care about anyone else.” She ducked beneath the spray.

Dante paused to eject the clip from his gun and toss it in a drawer before he set the gun itself on the counter. He’d secure them properly later, but he didn’t need her trying to shoot him and make a run for it. Even if she managed to get to the gun, she wouldn’t be able to load it before he got to her.

He finished stripping and stepped into the shower. The second the hot water hit his skin, he sighed in relief. Yeah, this was exactly what he needed. He grabbed the soap and scrubbed himself down quickly, erasing the gritty feeling of sweat drying against his skin. It only took a few minutes, but he could feel Rose’s attention on him the whole time. Studying for weakness? Waiting for an opportunity to attack?

Neither, apparently.

He turned to face her, letting the water pour over him, only to find her staring at his cock. The feeling of her gaze on him had his body responding, his cock hardening even as she watched. “See something you like?”

“I see something mediocre.”

“Rosa.” He injected enough censure into his tone to make her glare. “Let’s not retread this ground.”

She opened her mouth but seemed to reconsider what she’d been about to say. Finally, she shrugged. “You’ve got to be the most arrogant motherfucker I’ve ever met.”

“How so?”

“You’re in the shower with a woman who wants to do violence to you—a woman whose scars you wear.” She flicked her fingers at his shoulder and side, both sporting fresh scars from the bullet wounds. “And yet you’re naked and unconcerned. That’s arrogant by any definition of the word.”

He bit back a grin, curious to see what she’d do if he prodded her. The fact he truly didn’t know delighted him. “I’m bigger and stronger. What could you possibly do?”

“Oh, Dante.” Her lips quirked, and she moved toward him slowly. Her voice went low and seductive. “I can do so much.”

He held perfectly still and let her approach. Dante had been half-mast more or less consistently since arriving at the plane, but the moment Rose walked into the shower, his cock was so hard, he had a difficult time thinking past it.

She stopped a bare inch away and trailed her fingers over his length. His breath caught in his chest. Was it really going to be this easy? No. Surely not. But he couldn’t think properly with her touching him. “Rosa.” His voice came our raspy.

“Da.” The only warning he got was a slight tensing in her shoulders, and then she grabbed his balls in a viselike grip. His back hit the tiled wall, and she followed him, pressing her body to his even as she tightened her fingers. “Is something wrong, baby? Don’t tell me you don’t like to play rough.”

Fury surged, lust surging alongside it. He grabbed her wrist. Too hard, but it felt like she was going to rip his balls clean off his body. He hit her pressure points, forcing her hand open. It wasn’t enough, though. Not with pain beating through him with every thump of his heart. Dante used his hold to spin her around, turning in the same move to pin her against the wall, him at her back. She cursed and tried to buck, but he got a hand around her throat, holding her away from the tile so she wouldn’t bust her face open. “That’s enough.”

“Let me go.”

“No, Rosa.” He pressed against her back, letting the feeling of her slippery skin against his soothe him. “Turnabout is fair play.”

“What?”

He released her wrist and shoved his hand between her thighs to cup her pussy. He wanted nothing more than to sink two fingers into her silken heat, but Dante managed to restrain himself…mostly. He dragged his middle finger up her slit, rubbing the length against her clit. “Tell me yes, Rosa.”

Her only answer was her harsh breathing and the slightest widening of her thighs.

“Not good enough.” He made himself still his hand. A battle he quickly became in danger of losing as her desire drenched his fingers. “Tell me yes,” he repeated. “Tell me you want this. Tell me to make you come.”

She pressed her hands to the tile wall and let herself lean forward a little, resting her throat more firmly against his palm. “I won’t tell you yes, Dante. Don’t ask me to.”

He tried to think through the desire thrumming through his blood, to parse out her words. What she had said. What she hadn’t. Finally, he said, “Then tell me no, Rosa. Tell me no and I’ll stop.”

He held perfectly still as he counted off the seconds internally. Ten. Fifteen. Thirty. At sixty, she still hadn’t said a single fucking word. He smiled against her temple. You’re mine, Rosa. You know it, and I know it. “Very well.”