Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

He opened the CCTV feed again and watched her lie there on the bed. Watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed. Watched her stare at that phone screen like she was willing it to ring.

She was waiting for him to call back.

Even after knowing the truth, even after Enzo walking out on her, even after understanding that everything between them had been a lie...she was waiting for Dante to contact her.

He wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked slowly. Remembering the feeling of being inside her. The way her pussy had clenched around him when she came. The way she’d looked when he was fucking her hard, her face flushed, her eyes rolled back, completely surrendered to the pleasure.

She was one of the few women who understood that surrender wasn’t weakness. That letting a man use her body was its own kind of power. That sometimes the only way to forget your pain was to let someone else create a different kind of pain....the kind that made you feel alive.

”Fuck,” he muttered, stroking faster.

His cock pulsed in his hand, and he kept watching her on the screen. Kept thinking about all the ways he’d had her. On her knees. On her back. Bent over the couch with her hands tied. Straddling him while he made her ride him until she was exhausted and shaking.

The thing about Isabella was that she had this look when she came. This expression of complete vulnerability mixed with raw need. Like in that moment when her orgasm was hitting, she didn’t care about anything else. Not about politics or family or dignity or the fact that the man inside her was using her as a tool.

She just wanted to feel something other than the pain of being rejected by Dimitri Valentino.

Dante understood that. Understood it on a cellular level.

Because he was the same way...driven by the need to hurt the man who’d hurt him. Everything in his life was about Dimitri now. The business, the operations, the plans. All of it was built around one goal: making Dimitri pay for what he’d done.

And Isabella had been a perfect tool for that. She had access to information through her father, through Dimitri’s network, through her own position in that world. She’d been a gift.

Except somewhere along the way, fucking her had started to feel like more than just strategy.

His orgasm hit suddenly, his body tensing as he came into his hand. Thick ropes of cum spilling over his fingers while he watched her on the screen. While he thought about the way she moved. The way she sounded. The way she’d accepted everything he’d given her without complaint.

When it was over, Dante sat in the silence of his office, covered in his own cum, and felt nothing but anger.

Because wanting her was weakness.

Caring about how she felt was a liability.

And the fact that he was sitting here stroking his dick while thinking about a woman who now hated him was proof that he was becoming just as weak as his brother had been.

Love...or whatever this twisted obsession was....could destroy him.

Dante wouldn’t let it destroy him.

He cleaned himself up and pulled up the map on his computer. The one tracking Valentino’s jet in real time. The dot was moving steadily toward the Mediterranean. The Atlantic crossing was going to take hours.

Hours that Dante could use to plan.

Hours to figure out exactly how he was going to kill Dimitri and make sure the man knew, in his final moments, that it was Dante who’d done it. That it was Dante who’d avenged his brother. That it was Dante who was taking everything Valentino loved and destroying it.

He pulled up another file on his computer. Schematics. Island maps. Security protocols. He’d been researching Valentino’s movements for months, waiting for exactly this kind of opportunity.

Because a man couldn’t protect himself everywhere.

Sooner or later, he had to let his guard down.

And when Dimitri Valentino did, Dante would be there.

He opened his encrypted messaging app and sent a single message to his second-in-command: ”It’s time. Move the team. I want Valentino dead before he leaves that island.”

The response came back immediately: ”Understood. How long do we have?”

Dante checked the flight time. Checked the jet’s speed. Calculated travel time from Rome to wherever Valentino was heading.

”Four days,” he typed. ”We execute in four days. And I want it to hurt.”

He set down his phone and looked at the CCTV feed one more time. Isabella was still lying on the bed, still staring at that phone screen.

Waiting for him.

Dante felt that pull in his chest again, that dangerous feeling that made men stupid and weak. He pushed it down hard.

Isabella Russo was useful. That was all. Once Dimitri was dead, once Dante had taken his revenge, Isabella would be dealt with. She knew too much. Had been too close to him.

Weakness had to be eliminated.

It was what his brother should have learned before Dimitri killed him.

It was what Dante intended to make sure he never forgot.

He minimized the CCTV feed and opened another file. This one contained photographs of Eve Thorne. Dimitri’s woman. The one thing in the world the Devil actually cared about.

The leverage that was going to get Dimitri to die on his knees instead of fighting.

Because a man in love was a man who could be broken.

And Dante was going to break Dimitri Valentino into pieces.

***

POV: ISABELLA

The call came through at 8:47 AM.

Isabella was still in bed, staring at her phone screen like it might suddenly light up with a message from him. It had been three days. Three days since Enzo walked out of her apartment. Three days of silence from Dante.

Her phone buzzed.

For a moment, her heart actually stopped. Then she saw the caller ID: Father.

She answered immediately. ”Hello?”

”Come back to the estate today.” His voice was cold. Clipped. The voice of a man who gave orders and expected them to be followed. ”We need to talk.”