Mine Forever: A Dark Mafia Romance

Chapter 9 Sonia -Magnetism

Dante takes me to several boutiques throughout the afternoon, and by the end of the day, I have a new wardrobe complete with dresses, sweaters, pants, jeans, coats, lingerie, pajamas, and everything in between. Dante must've spent a fortune on me, but never once did he let me see the final bill. He just kept insisting that we go to another store, and another, and another. By the end of the day, I was even smiling as I walked with him up and down the streets of Old Ashton, surrounded by his bodyguards.

But now, I'm famished, and I have to admit that I'm happy Dante has insisted we have dinner.

As night has begun to fall and the streetlamps come on, he walks me down a side street, leading to a little French restaurant called la Déesse Ovale.

"This is an amazing place," he says. "Trust me."

We go inside, and I'm drawn in by the warm atmosphere, which contradicts the chill outside. While it's not winter, spring has not yet descended, and it's still frigid, especially at night.

The host leads us to a table by the window lit by a single candle in the middle, which provides a cozy, intimate atmosphere.

Dante orders us a bottle of wine, and when he does, I'm struck again by the fact that this doesn't feel like a hostage situation. It feels more like I'm on a date.

But I stuff those feelings down, reminding myself that Dante is the enemy. He took me from my home, and I need never to forget that.

"Do you like duck?" he asks me, perusing the menu.

"I don't know. I've never had it," I admit.

He glances up. "Never?"

I shake my head. "I don't exactly go on a lot of dates, and what we eat at home is mostly Italian."

His eyes become dark as they center on me, and a kind of knotted pang forms in my stomach. I don't know why I feel this way when I'm around Dante. It's almost like I can't look him in the eye for fear of how beautiful he is.

"Then you must have it tonight," he says.

The waitress comes around, and he orders me duck confit. I sit back, wondering if I should be planning my escape or if it's okay to have this moment with Dante. I so much want to figure out who he is, why he chose me to capture.

So, I dare to ask the question that's been on my mind. "Who are you?" I ask.

"You don't know who I am?" He almost seems amused by the question.

I shake my head. "I don't. I mean, I assume you're some mafia guy, but that's all I know."

He takes a lingering sip of his wine. "Wow, princess, you have been shielded from the world, haven't you?" Then, he runs his big hand through his thick hair, brushing it off his face. "I'm Dante De Rose, the head of the De Rose family. We're the biggest mafia syndicate in the New York area, but of course, our influence stretches farther than that, all over the world."

"But I thought my father ran the biggest coalition?" I ask, honestly not understanding.

"Your father and I are always fighting for that spot," he says. "But we're different, he and I. I run things differently than your father who has no qualms about killing, murdering, trafficking drugs and people."

My eyes go wide as I realize what he's saying. I always knew that bad things went on in the skyscraper I lived in on Fifth Avenue, but I never had the bravery to find out what those things were. Now, Dante is telling me.

"What do you mean you run things differently?" I ask.

"I mean that I don't dabble in meager profits. I have businesses all over the world, such as eco-development and financial firms. I don't need to quarrel at the bottom over prostitutes, drugs, and gambling like some people."

"You mean like my father?" I ask.

He nods. "Maybe."

Suddenly a rash of anger comes over me. "But why do you need me? Why am I a part of whatever war you have going on with him? I'm nothing. I am just me. I should be excluded from this."

"Is that what you think, that you're nothing?" he asks, looking me over carefully.

I shift in my seat, not wanting to answer his question. But when I look up, and his eyes meet mine, I feel a hot surge of energy flow through my body. Whenever I'm around Dante, I feel it, this sexual charge, this magnetism pulling us together. For as much as I know it's wrong and that I should hate him, I also know that I want this man more and more, especially with every passing second that I spend with him.

"I don't think I'm nothing," I say in a near whisper. "It's just that, my life...it feels like the walls are closing in on me. And being a Gavino is hard. I don't expect you to understand."

"Try me," he says, his tone almost a gentle caress.

I sense that he's trying not to push me into telling him things. He doesn't want to scare me away. And for a minute, I know that I could stop talking, say nothing, and things between Dante and I would remain as they are. He's my captor. I'm his prisoner. That's all we need to be. But then I see the way he's looking at me, how he seems to really care, and I know that I will tell him the truth.

"I know my father does bad things," I say. "And that's hard to live with. Also, he's been trying to marry me off to one of his friends, a rich friend. It's all been making me feel like life is too much like it's not worth living. That's why you caught me trying to...trying to jump last night." The last words stick in my throat as I realize that I've just told my secrets to the one man who I shouldn't say anything to.

"You should never think that there's not a way out," he says, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand.

My instinct is to pull away, but I stay. I keep my hand where it is, a hot flush of warmth spreading throughout my body at Dante's touch.

"You don't get it," I say. "You don't understand how it feels to be powerless."

Indeed, Dante, with his strength and infinite power, would never understand my position in life, being the sheltered Gavino daughter. He doesn't get what it's like to have no choices.

But his hand remains where it is, on mine, and for the moment, I feel like I have someone who I can confide in.

I don't trust Dante, but what harm is there in telling him my truth, the one I've kept so carefully buried all this time? Who's he going to tell? He has no interest in me other than using me to get my father riled up or to get a ransom.

But as I look into his eyes, his deep, dark eyes, I have to wonder if that's entirely true. Maybe he sees me and wants more? Perhaps the look in his eyes and the way he's touching me reveals a man who feels the same magnetism that I do?