Chapter 22 The Queens warehouse is exactly what Mario promised-completely off the books, stocked with supplies, and defensible. It took us an hour to find the hidden safe behind the false wall panel, but Mario's note with our emergency supplies had been cryptic enough. "Everything you need is where my father kept his secrets." I stare at the note blankly, but Dante's face has gone still. Something dark flickers in his eyes-recognition mixed with something that looks almost like pain. Without a word, he starts methodically checking the walls, running his hands along the concrete blocks with sudden urgency. "What are you-" I start to ask. "Give me a minute." His tone is sharp enough to cut glass. When I open my mouth to ask about the DeLuca patriarch, the look he shoots me makes it clear that subject is off-limits. It takes him about ten minutes to find the false panel. The relief on his face when we discover the files inside is palpable-detailed dossiers on Viktor and Dominic's network, financial records Mario hadn't had time to show us, communication intercepts, and most importantly, a comprehensive timeline of every security breach going back eight months. Proof of everything Mario had told us, plus evidence we could actually use. I'm still going through the security breach analysis, cross-referencing dates with family operations, when Dante comes in from checking the perimeter. "My contact wants to meet," he says, tension evident in his shoulders. "Says he has information about who's been accessing the Renaldi security systems." My eyes snap up. "When?" "Tonight." He starts gathering weapons, checking ammunition. "I'll handle it." "Like hell." I set down the files. "I'm coming with you." "Sofia-" "Don't 'Sofia' me." I stand, temper flaring. "Just because we're sleeping together doesn't mean you get to sideline me. I'm not some fragile thing to be protected anymore." "This isn't about protection." But how hard he's clenching his jaw says otherwise. "These contacts...they're dangerous. Unpredictable." "So am I." I step closer, invading his space. "Or have you forgotten how I handled myself at the auction house? At the warehouse against Madame Rouge's men?" His eyes darken at the memory. "That's different." "Why? Because you weren't in love with me then?" The words hang between us. We haven't said it yet-not properly. His face does something complicated before settling into that enforcer mask I hate. "This isn't about us." "Bullshit." My fingers dig into my palms. "You think I don't see you pulling away? Trying to create distance now that we've crossed that line?" "I'm trying to keep you alive!" Dante's eyes flash dangerously. "No, you're trying to protect yourself!" The truth of it hits as I say it. "You're scared that loving me makes you vulnerable. Makes you weak." He moves fast, backing me against the wall. "You think I'm not feeling something?" His kiss is brutal, demanding. I meet it with equal force, biting his lower lip. His growl vibrates through me as his hands slide under my shirt before moving into my hair. "I feel everything," he says roughly, trailing kisses down my neck. "Every goddamn thing." I fist his shirt, exposing my throat to give him better access. "Then show me." Warm fingers slide down my neck and the front of my shirt, tugging at fabric until I do him a favor and pull the stupid thing off myself. Dante yanks off his shirt and, without a second thought, devours me into another kiss. The feel of his lips moving over mine is exhilarating. I'll never get used to this. The fact that he wants this, too. I can't think. I can't see. I can't breathe-and though I'm not, I feel drunk. I feel. That's all I can do. Feel. My legs wobble when his lips move from mine and touch the bare skin of my shoulder. "Shit," he mutters huskily, moving his hand down to cup my bra-covered breast. "You're so goddamn beautiful." He seems to really like this bra as he tweaks my nipple over satin. Whimpering, I bite my lip, watching as Dante's face glazes over when he touches me one last time before expertly pulling my bra off, baring my nipples so he can touch them. Breathless, I throw my head back, moaning when Dante's mouth attaches to my nipple, sucking deftly before switching to the other, making me bite my lip. He lets his teeth scrape over it, looking up at me. Gasping, I arch my back, sighing as he kisses up my body, nuzzling against my neck. The stimulation of his lips, hands, and even his soft moans is more than I can handle. I almost purr like a cat, but instead I murmur, "I want you," while grinding against him hard. I grin when his breath catches. After minutes of moving my hips against his, I take my turn to attach myself to something. My lips slowly run along his jaw and down his neck, sucking. My hand has a mind of its own and drifts down to press against his erection. It presses back. Hard. Nice. Dante gasps, his head dropping against the crook of my neck, heart beating rapidly in his chest. "Fuck, Sofia," he whispers against my neck, nipping gently. I shudder as his hands run up and down my bare back. His skin is warm and soft; my hands take a minute to explore, to his enjoyment. God, his body is a work of heart-honed from years of working out and being a DeLuca enforcer. My hands work the zipper of his pants, and a sharp breath escapes Dante's mouth when I reach my hand in and start stroking him slowly. His hands move all over my body. Shit. Hissing when my thumb swipes the head, he locks eyes with me. "Feels good?" I ask, even though I know the answer. Moans, shivers, and hazy eyes tell me all that I need to know. He lets me play as his moans become louder and louder-and then, he breaks. "Fucking tease," he moans, kissing and nibbling on my collarbone one last time before I feel him yanking my leggings down and out of the way. He pulls my underwear off too and his mouth covers mine as I tear at his pants, yanking them and his underwear down as my hand caresses his pulsating erection. I hold it against my stomach as I stroke it slowly. Removing my hand, he steps out of his pants and kicks off his shoes. He's breathless. I'm wet. He's moaning. I'm ready. Lifting a leg over his thigh, Dante enters me in one gentle thrust. There are so many emotions flowing through me right now that I can hardly articulate them, much less keep them under control. I'm surprised that we don't tumble to the floor in a heap of appendages and discarded clothing. I'm excited that I am the sole reason why Dante Moretti is quivering and sighing my name with every thrust. I'm stunned that this is my life and not a really fantastic dream. Most of all, I'm really liking that he's the one making me shake and moan in return. I bite his shoulder playfully. His thrusts are slow at first, as if he's trying to get his bearings. But we waste no time in finding an appropriate rhythm. It's perfect. Not too fast, not too slow. Resting my back against the cool concrete and gripping the back of his neck gently, I watch his face closely. His eyes are shut and his mouth is slightly parted. Running my thumb over his lips, he opens his eyes. Smiling, he hisses, "you're so fucking tight" before he sucks my thumb into his mouth. I gasp, feeling myself bite down on my own lip harder than before. "Don't do that, principessa," Dante murmurs. "Let me." He kisses my lower lip and tugs on it gently with his teeth. I sigh, whimpering helplessly. "What are you even doing to me?" His laugh is a puff of warm air against my face. "Fucking you, obviously." Dante starts thrusting into me faster, more urgently, and I try to control myself. His kisses intensify and I close my eyes for another moment. I feel his arms behind my waist, holding me in place-getting lost in the sensations. In and out. In and out. My mind shuts down completely and my body commandeers total control. I feel his smile when I start moving with him, riding him. It feels so fucking amazing, better than anything I've experienced before. I can't help the strangled moan that rises from the back of my throat as he overwhelms me with his quickening thrusts and lips. Dante speaks into my ear in that hoarse voice that drags me closer and closer to the edge. "You're so wet, you're not going to make it, are you?" I nearly lose it but manage to hold on. With my legs wrapped tighter around his body, I meet his thrusts almost frantically. I can't seriously even think right now. I just need him to keep moving...just...like...that. "You feel so good," Dante moans before he bites down on my neck and slams into me. Hard. I cry out as I continue to meet his thrusts. He's shaking and moaning my name against my neck. No matter how hard I try to hold on, I can't stop this orgasm if I tried-and I certainly don't want to. I can't stand upright much longer, my legs shake hard as my moans increase in volume. Dante feels it. He feels me waver, feels me tighten around him, and literally picks me up. His arms are under my knees and his hands are cupping my ass. Just when I think he can't fuck me any harder-or better-he does. My legs flop helplessly until I hook them around his waist. I close my eyes, biting my lip, trying desperately to hold on just a little bit longer. Fingers touch my chin, lifting my face so I'm staring into his warm eyes. "That better?" His voice is thick and deep and does nothing to slow down the inevitable. "Good?" I nod because it's all I can really do now. Good? Well, wait...good doesn't even come close to describing just how fantastic and uninhibited I feel now, but I'm well past being able to form logical thoughts and going into detailed explanations. I continue to nod even though he's no longer asking questions. I feel it coming. Dante feels it too and begins to fuck me mercilessly, moaning uncontrollably. It's coming quick, too quick-my fingers have a mind of their own. They scrape down his back in an effort to-I don't know. I feel myself clamping hard around him. Hissing, he's groaning like crazy, repeating "shit, yes," as he rams into me. I rake his back again. I do it hard, then lightly, then hard again and he's grinding against me, into me. It's fierce, so intense that I have tears in my eyes. Our eyes lock and I know it's going to be over soon. He's trembling so damn hard for a second I think we're going to fall. I don't care. Six rough and frenzied thrusts later and I'm plummeting over the edge, yelling his name, shaking in his arms, gripping, and clawing at him as I ride the most intense wave of my life. Two more and he's right behind me, yelling, shaking, and burying himself deep inside as he clings to me just as tight. My heart won't stop racing. Breathing is a chore. I feel weak, wonderful, and I ache all over. I don't know how he finds strength, but he sits us on the floor. I relax against his racing chest as he continues to twitch inside of me. His lips find mine and his kisses calm me. They're so soft and tender. "So this contact of yours," I start, then stop. "Tell me about him. Or her." He's quiet for a long moment, fingers tracing patterns on my back. "He's someone I've cultivated over the years. Deep cover, old school. Has connections throughout the Council families. When I told him about the pattern in Mario's intelligence, he said he knew who it was." "And he knows who's betraying us?" "He knows something." Dante's voice hardens. "Says the pattern in Mario's intelligence points to someone specific. Someone who's been feeding Viktor and Dominic information for months." My stomach plummets as I think about the detailed security breach timeline in Mario's files. "Someone who would have known about Elena too." "Yes." His arms tighten around me. "Someone who's been playing a very long game." I think about the Council meetings I've heard about from my father and Marco. The family friends who've known me since childhood. Who knew about my computer skills, my patterns, exactly when I'd be alone that night. "We go together," I say firmly. "No more lone wolf bullshit." He studies my face for a long moment. "You're going to do this with or without me, aren't you?" "Yes." I kiss him softly. "But I'd rather do it with you." His laugh is resigned. "Fine. But we do this smart. No unnecessary risks." "Deal." I settle back against him, mind already working through the patterns in Mario's intelligence. "What time's the meeting?" "Midnight. Neutral ground in Brooklyn." Perfect. Just enough time for what I need to do. Because looking at the detailed timeline and patterns in Mario's files, I have a terrible feeling I know exactly who the traitor is. Someone who's had access to everything. Someone we all trusted. And tonight, one way or another, we're going to get proof. In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...