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"Dante!"

When he pulls back, satisfaction gleams in his eyes as he studies the bruise already forming on my skin. "Now everyone will know who you belong to, even while you're playing your part."

I touch the spot, feeling tenderness that borders on pleasant pain. "Was that necessary? That's why I'm wearing the vile!"

His smile is pure evil. "Entirely necessary. Why should you have all the fun?"

I shake my head and spin as Dante's hand slaps my ass. From below deck, Marco appears to announce the arrival of the first tenders bringing guests from shore.

The game begins now.

"Remember," Dante says, voice dropping to ensure only I hear his words. "Dominguez will be on the Argentinian vessel. The information we need—"

"Access codes to Algeciras and Valencia," I finish for him. "I know my mission."

"And your know your limits."

I meet his gaze steadily. "I extract information without crossing lines. I belong to you, Dante. Your blood runs in my veins now. I won't betray that."

Satisfaction softens his features momentarily. He presses a final kiss to my lips before we separate, ready to play our respective roles in tonight's deadly game.

I get to work, and by midnight, I'm on the deck ofLa Conquistadora, the Argentinian yacht where Xavier Dominguez has established his temporary court.

Crystal champagne flutes sparkle beneath strings of fairy lights, while beautiful people in expensive clothes perform the ancient dance of power and seduction.

I've spent hours circulating through the fleet, establishing my presence as Dante Ravelli's new bride. Accepting congratulations with gracious smiles. Deflecting questions about my transition from unwanted captive to loyal queen with well-rehearsed deflection.

"Well, well… the Castellano princess becomes Ravelli royalty," a voice observes from behind me. "How the mighty have fallen."

I turn to find Xavier Dominguez himself, thick, black hair swept back from aristocratic features that have weathered the years with distinguished grace.

At fifty, he still remains an imposing—and good looking—figure. He's tall, with large round shoulders, radiating the confidence of a man who has built an empire with bloodstained hands.

"Señor Dominguez," I greet him, offering my hand with an elegant, and subtly flirtatious curtsy. "I believe we met briefly at the Vienna summit two years ago."

"Indeed we did." He brings my fingers to his lips, holding them a moment too long. "Though you were on your father's arm then. Not aRavelli's."

He practically spits the name back at me, but I allow a small smile, neither confirming nor denying the implied criticism.

"Times change."

"As do allegiances, it seems." His gaze drops to the mark on my throat, lingering on the visible evidence of Dante's possession before returning to my face. "I admit, I'm surprised you are on board. The Ravellis have not been welcome on my vessels for many years."

"I'm aware of the history," I acknowledge, letting my fingers trace the rim of my glass suggestively, bringing the attention of his eyes down. "But sometimes... old enemies can become new friends."

Interest flickers across his features as his gaze drops to the blood vial nestled between my breasts.

"I'm afraid your husband's reputation precedes him. Dante Ravelli is known for many things, but... sharing is not among them."

"My husband," I emphasize the word as I lean closer, the vial swinging slightly with my movement. "Doesn't control everything I do."

"Interesting," Dominguez smiles, his eyes never leaving the curve of my neck where Dante's mark remains visible. "I've heard rumors of Volkov betrayal. The great Ravelli empire... vulnerable. And yet here you are, wearing his blood while seeking my company."

I laugh softly, the sound deliberately airy and intimate. "I'm wearing many things tonight. Some visible, some... not."

"Of course." His voice deepens as he steps closer. "Yet here you are, on my yacht, without your formidable husband. One might wonder why…"

The moment has arrived.