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His hand slides to my throat, thumb resting against my pulse point. It's not a threatening gesture. It's almost as if he's just feeling the rhythm of my life beneath his fingers. The beating of my heart right there, at his fingertips.

"And what exactly are we building, princess?"

"An empire," I whisper, rain misting my skin as the wind shifts. "But one where we rule together. Where I'm not your possession but your partner."

His lips curve into that dangerous smile that makes heat pool low in my belly. "Bold demands from a woman who was once merchandise."

"Bold demands for a man who needs me more than he's willing to admit."

The taunt hits its mark. His grip around my throat tightens, eyes darkening with desire and something deeper, more possessive.

"Need is dangerous, Francesca," he murmurs. "Need makes men vulnerable. Weak."

"No," I counter, holding his gaze steadily. "Need makes men human. And humans can be far more dangerous than monsters when they have something worth fighting for."

He studies me for a moment, the struggle visible in his eyes. The battle between the monster he's cultivated and the man I know is somewhere underneath.

Finally, he leans forward, his forehead pressing against mine in a gesture of surprising intimacy.

"Rome," he says quietly. "Tomorrow. Pack lightly. We may need to move quickly."

I nod, understanding the implications. Trust has been offered, but contingencies remain in place.

"And Francesca?" His voice drops lower. "When I meet with Nico... you will remain at the hotel. That's non-negotiable."

I open my mouth to protest, but he silences me with a look.

"You can be my partner in planning, my equal in strategy," he continues. "But I will not risk you in a potential trap. Not when..."

He stops abruptly, vulnerability flashing in his eyes.

"Not when what?" I press.

His thumb traces my lower lip, rain beginning to spatter against our skin as the wind shifts.

"Not when I've just begun to admit how much I need you."

The confession, small as it is, sends a shiver through me. From a man like Dante Ravelli, it's equivalent to poetry, to declarations of devotion from lesser men.

I turn my face into his palm, pressing my lips to the healing cut on his hand. "Then I'll wait for you. But you will tell me everything afterward. No more secrets between us."

"No more secrets," he agrees, his other hand sliding to my waist, drawing me closer as the rain intensifies around us. "We face what comes together."

Thunder cracks across the Italian sky, the storm enveloping us just as something fundamental shifts between us.

No longer captor and captive. No longer master and possession.

Just two monsters recognizing each other in the dark… and choosing to hunt together rather than tear each other apart.

Chapter Seventeen

Dante

Rome has always felt like a wounded beast. Ancient and predatory. Vicious and sacred.

The presidential suite atHotel Raffaelloprovides the perfect vantage point. Francesca stands at the window, her fingers pressed against the glass as she takes in the Eternal City's nocturnal glow.

She's wearing a simple black robe, hair damp from the shower, skin still flushed from the brutal fucking I subjected her to mere moments after our arrival.