The rest of dinner passed in suffocating silence. Valeria’s food turned to ash in her mouth, each bite a struggle against the weight of Dante’s presence beside her. His controlled movements, the careful way he handled his cutlery, reminded her of a surgeon selecting his instruments.
When the plates cleared, she rose with deliberate ease. The walk back to her room felt endless, her skin electric with awareness of the guard trailing behind her.
A maid intercepted her in the hallway, head bowed. “Mr. Renzetti requests your presence in his private sitting room.”
Valeria’s pulse quickened. Of course he wouldn’t let her retreat to safety. Not after her display at dinner.
The maid led her through winding corridors to a heavy oak door. Inside, the sitting room breathed old money and power. Leather chairs worn to butter-soft perfection filled the space, while shelves of rare books climbed the walls and a crystal decanter of amber liquid caught the lamplight.
No Dante.
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving her alone in his space. The room felt like an extension of him, controlled, precise, deliberately crafted to unsettle. Even the air felt charged with his authority.
She refused to sit, to show submission by making herself smaller in his domain. Instead, she moved to the window, watching the city lights blur through the glass. Her reflection stared back at her, chin high, shoulders straight, hands steady despite the tremor in her chest.
The door opened. She didn’t turn, but she felt him enter like a change in atmospheric pressure. His footsteps were unhurried across the hardwood floor, a predator confident in his hunt, to stand behind her.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with promise and threat. She could feel his eyes on her, assessing, calculating. Teaching her that even her small act of defiance, refusing to turn and face him, was merely something he allowed.
Heat prickled at her back, though he hadn’t touched her. The glass reflected his dark silhouette behind her, close enough that his breath stirred the loose strands of hair at her neck.
“You questioned my authority.” His voice carried no anger, no heat. Just cold certainty. “In front of my men.”
Valeria’s skin prickled. The room felt too warm, too small. His cologne wrapped around her, notes of cedar and smoke that made her pulse skip.
“Tell me what you did.” His words brushed her ear.
She gripped the window ledge, her jaw tightening. “I challenged you.”
“And why was that a mistake?”
“Because you don’t allow defiance in public.”
His hand settled on her hip, fingers spreading possessively. “Good girl. You understand the rule.” His other hand swept her hair aside, exposing her neck. “Now you’ll understand the consequence.”
Heat pooled low in her belly at his touch. She hated how her body betrayed her, how it recognized the danger and craved it anyway.
She could feel the solid wall of his chest against her back, the controlled power in his grip. Everything about him radiated dominance without effort.
“Turn around.”
Valeria turned, her breath catching as she met Dante’s dark gaze. His hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, pressing her closer.
“Do you know how disobedient women are punished, Valeria?” His fingers traced up her spine, leaving fire in their wake.
She lifted her chin. “You never specified.”
“Mm.” His hand fisted in her hair, not painful but firm. “They get spanked. Like the little girls they act like.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. The word hung between them, loaded with promise and humiliation. Her stomach clenched, a mix of dread and something darker, something she refused to name.
“Is that what you’re going to do?” Her voice came out steadier than she felt. “Spank me like a child?”
His eyes tracked over her face, reading every micro-expression. “No, Valeria. When I spank you, it won’t be like a child.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “It will be like a woman who needs to learn her place.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. The promise in his words made her knees weak. This was how he operated, not with brute force, but with careful, calculated dominance that got under her skin.
His hand tightened in her hair. “Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.” The words came out rough, betraying her.
Dante’s hand slid from her hair, trailing down her neck. “Choose, Valeria. Over my lap, or bent over the couch.”
Her breath caught. The choice was merely an illusion, as both options would end the same way.
“And if I refuse both?” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
His eyes darkened. He stepped closer, crowding her against the window. The glass felt cool against her neck, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.
“Still pushing.” His fingers traced her collarbone. “Even now, when you know what’s coming.” He caught her chin, tilting her face up. “That’s not one of the options I gave you.”
Valeria’s heart raced. She knew she should back down, should choose quickly and get it over with. But something in her couldn’t help testing him, seeing how far she could push before he snapped.
“Maybe I don’t like your options.” She met his gaze, defiant despite the tremor in her voice.
His thumb brushed her bottom lip again. “Then I’ll choose for you. And I won’t be gentle.”
The threat sent heat pooling between her thighs. She hated how her body responded to his dominance, how each controlled movement made her pulse quicken.
She swallowed hard. “The couch.”
His lips curved into a dangerous smile. “No. You lost that privilege when you pushed.” His hand wrapped around her wrist. “Over my lap it is. You’ll learn that defiance has consequences.”
Dante’s grip on her wrist brooked no argument as he led her to the leather armchair. Her muscles coiled tight, every instinct screaming to pull away, to fight. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of watching her struggle.
He sat, filling the chair like a throne. One sharp tug brought her stumbling between his knees. His hands settled on her hips, fingers digging into soft flesh through her dress.
“Last chance to submit gracefully.”
Valeria’s body tensed. “I don’t submit to anyone.”
“We’ll see.” His hand slid down to her thigh, bunching the fabric of her dress. “Strip.”
Heat flooded her face. “No.”
His grip tightened. “That wasn’t a request.”
“I won’t—”
The words cut off as he yanked her forward, off balance. She caught herself against his chest, palms pressing against solid muscle, the fine material of his suit jacket doing nothing to hide the steel beneath. His form dominated the seat with the commanding authority of a monarch, legs spread wide, one hand still gripping her hip while the other traced dangerous patterns on her thigh.
The lamplight caught the sharp planes of his face, shadows deepening the intensity of his near-black eyes. His expression remained controlled, but something darker lurked beneath the surface, a predatory heat that made her breath catch. His jaw clenched, the muscle there jumping with barely contained restraint.
“You will.” His voice carried no anger, just inevitable certainty. “The only choice is whether you do it yourself, or I do it for you.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She could feel the strength in his hands, the controlled power in every movement. But she wouldn’t break. Wouldn’t show weakness.
“Make me.”
His eyes darkened. In one fluid motion, he flipped her across his lap. The world tilted, blood rushing to her head as she found herself bent over his thighs. One arm locked across her back, pinning her in place.
She bucked against his hold, pride overriding sense. His grip didn’t budge.
“Keep fighting,” he said, voice low. “It only makes this more satisfying.”
His free hand slid up her thigh, pushing her dress higher. Valeria bit back a gasp, but she couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through her body at his touch.
Valeria kicked out and her hands pushed against his thigh, searching for leverage, for any chance to escape. But Dante’s arm across her back held her firmly in place, his strength making her attempts feel childish.
“Get off me.” She reached back, shoving at his hand as it slid higher up her thigh.
His fingers clamped around her wrist, pulling it behind her back. “That’s not allowed.” He pressed her captured hand into the small of her back, the position forcing her chest lower across his lap.
“I’m not one of your men to order around.” The words came out breathless, her heart pounding against his thigh.
“No.” His free hand resumed its path up her leg, pushing her dress higher. “You’re much more interesting to control.”
Heat bloomed across her skin where he touched. She twisted in his grip, but the movement only pressed her closer against him.
“Bastard,” she spat, but her voice cracked as his fingers traced the edge of her lace panties.
“Still fighting.” He sounded amused. “Even when your body betrays you.”
As if to prove his point, his hand slid higher, cupping her cheek, and she couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through her. Her thighs trembled, muscles tense with the effort not to react.
“We’re getting somewhere.” Dante’s low murmur washed over her.
Her panties were dragged below her cheeks, and she fought the instinct to cover herself. The cool air against her bare skin made her want to squirm. Dante’s fingers traced patterns on her backside, his touch feather-light and deliberate.
“It seems you’re not so immune to this after all.”
Valeria’s face burned. She wanted to deny it, to push him away and pretend his touch didn’t affect her.
“You think this affects me?” She found her voice, sounding braver than she felt. “You think I care?”
“No.” He removed her panties completely, baring her to his gaze. “I don’t think you care. I know you do.”
She felt his eyes on her, drinking in the sight of her exposed and vulnerable. Her skin prickled, every nerve ending screaming for her to hide, to cover herself.
Dante’s hand connected with her bare bottom, a sharp sting that made her gasp. She jerked against his hold, the unexpected bite of pain shockingly intense. But he didn’t give her time to recover, landing another swat that made her back arch.
“Don’t test me again, Valeria,” he warned, his fingers kneading the aching flesh. “Remember your place.”
She hissed, struggling to free herself, but his hold was unyielding. “I won’t forget this,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, you’ll remember.” He punctuated each word with another stinging slap, slow and deliberate. His hand splayed possessively over the heated skin, the gentle touch a contrast to the sting.
Valeria bit her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out from the sharp sting of his hand against her bare skin.
Dante’s hand connected again, the slap sharper this time. Her inner walls clenched, a traitorous response to the sting. She jerked against his hold, the position baring her to his gaze and his touch.
“I told you,” he murmured, his fingers gliding over the cheeks he’d reddened. “This is how defiant women are punished.”
Valeria bit her lip, battling the urge to push back into his touch. Her body craved more even as her mind rebelled against the humiliation of it all. She tried to shift away, but his grip held her firm.
“Not done yet,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that sent shivers through her. “You still need to learn your lesson.”
The words stirred something dark within her, a mix of shame and desire that had her squirming across his lap. His hand splayed across her back, holding her in place, a possessive reminder of who controlled this dance.
And Dante did control it, the pace and the intensity. He was the maestro of this symphony of power and surrender. But as much as he dominated, he also orchestrated her response.
His hand lifted, then fell, landing firmly on one cheek, then the other, in a rhythm that stole her breath. Valeria’s hands fisted against the rug, her knuckles white. Each swat was a shock to her system, a burning brand that seared away her resistance bit by bit.
“That’s it, Valeria,” he murmured, his fingers trailing over the tender flesh. “Take it. Every last bit.”
She felt exposed and vulnerable, not just physically, but emotionally. Her body responded to his dominance; that was undeniable. But it was more than that. Each swat stripped away the layers of defiance she wore like armor, baring a deeper layer of herself to his gaze.
“You’re wet for me.”
Valeria froze, her breath catching. His words stung like a slap, but they also sent a shock of heat between her thighs.
“Do you like being punished?” His hand connected with her bare bottom again. “Answer me.”
The question hung between them, heavy with expectation. She didn’t answer, couldn’t find the words, but her body betrayed her with a little jerk of her hips. Dante’s hand slid between her thighs, so close, but not quite touching.
“You can’t lie to me, Valeria.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Her body’s response was undeniable, the wetness between her thighs a humiliating betrayal. But admitting it out loud would be a show of weakness she couldn’t afford.
His hand trailed over her wetness, a deliberate, taunting touch. “It seems my disobedient girl is getting wetter by the second.”
Valeria bit her lip hard enough to almost draw blood, anything to distract herself from the way his fingers brushed the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Don’t,” she choked out.
But he didn’t stop. His touch was feather-light, teasing, making her squirm. “Is this what you want, Valeria?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “To be spanked and touched until you can’t deny it anymore?”
“No.” The word was a lie, but her body wasn’t cooperating. Her hips moved involuntarily, seeking more of his touch.
Dante’s fingers pressed harder, stroking through her slickness. “I know what you want, Valeria. I see it in the way your body reacts to me.” He paused, his hand stilling. “Tell me you want it.”
She shook her head, her breath coming in short gasps. “No.”
But it was a lie, and they both knew it. The proof was there, dampening his fingers, making her whimper as he denied her the friction she craved.
“Say it, Valeria.” He leaned closer. “Admit that this is what you need.”
Her pride warred with her body’s desperate need. “N-no.” It was a weak denial, her voice shaking.
“Again, I didn’t hear you.” His hand moved, his fingers teasing the entrance to her core, pressing a little deeper.
“No,” she whispered, even as her hips moved involuntarily, seeking more.
“You can’t fool me.” His fingers circled her entrance, but didn’t push inside. “Say it, and I’ll give you what you need.”
Valeria’s chest heaved, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Dante’s fingers circled her entrance, denying her the relief she craved.
“Please,” she whispered, the word torn from her.
“Say it, Valeria.” His finger pressed against her core, teasing, but not penetrating. “Admit that you need this.”
She shook her head, her brow damp with a thin layer of sweat. “N-no.”
He leaned closer. “Be honest with yourself. You can’t hide from me here.”
“I don’t—” She bit her lip, fighting the need to push back against his hand, to seek the release he offered. “I don’t need anything from you.”
He chuckled, the sound dark and possessive. “Liar.”
Valeria clenched her jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her beg. But her body was beyond her control now, betraying her with each tremble and whimper. Dante’s thumb brushed over her clit, a tantalizing touch that made her hips buck involuntarily.
“No more games.” His voice was a low growl. “Tell me what you want.”
She swallowed, her eyes squeezed shut as she fought for control. But her body had already surrendered, the muscles coiled tight, ready to snap.
“I want—” She choked on the word, pride warring with need. “I want you to touch me.”
“Where?” His fingers teased near her clit, a deliberate, torturous caress. “Here?”
Her hips moved in response, a silent plea for more. She felt on the edge of control, felt herself teetering on the brink. Dante knew it too; his hand firmed on her hip, steadying her, caging her in.
“Tell me, Valeria.” His voice was a command, one she couldn’t ignore. “Tell me where you want me to touch.”
The words felt like a surrender, a lifetime of defiance crumbling in the face of this relentless need he’d awakened.
“I want—” Her voice caught, thick with shame and arousal. “Inside.”
“As you wish.” Dante’s fingers slid inside her, filling her with one smooth stroke.
Valeria’s breath caught as he stretched her, his fingers stroking deep. “More,” she gasped, her body aching for friction.
He complied, his other finger finding that one spot that made her cry out. Pleasure spiraled through her, sharp and relentless. Her hips pushed back, chasing the sensation, wanting more, needing it.
Dante’s free hand landed sharply on her bare bottom, the smack echoing in the room. Valeria cried out, the sting of the slap mixing with the pleasure coiling tightly inside her. He continued to spank her as he worked his fingers inside her, obliterating her ability to think, to do anything but feel.
“Come for me, Valeria,” he ordered, his voice rough. “Come, and I’ll stop the pain.” He rubbed her slick clit.
The promise sent her spiraling over the edge. Pleasure tore through her, making her body arch, back bowing as she cried out. She couldn’t form words, couldn’t do anything but feel as Dante’s hand stilled, letting her ride out the waves of release.
His touch gentled, fingers slipping from her core, her dress falling back into place. He waited, letting her catch her breath, the silence heavy with unspoken things. She tried to steady her breath, to slow the erratic beat of her heart.
Dante stood, lifting her easily. Her legs trembled, and she leaned into him, boneless and spent.
“Now,” he murmured, brushing a stray hair from her face, “you’re mine.”