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EXCLUSIVE BONUS CONTENT
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Exclusive Bonus Scene: Anniversary
This scene takes place one year after the epilogue. Elena and Dante celebrate their first wedding anniversary at Villa Valente.
The dining room was empty.
Elena stood in the doorway, confused. She’d received explicit instructions from Dante that morning—dress for dinner, meet him in the dining room at eight sharp, and wear the red dress he’d left on the bed.
The dress in question was a work of art—deep crimson silk that hugged every curve, with a neckline that dipped dangerously low and a slit up the thigh that made wearing underwear questionable. She’d paired it with heels that made her legs look endless and the diamond earrings Dante had given her for their anniversary that morning.
But the dining room was dark except for candles, the table was bare, and her husband was nowhere to be seen.
“Dante?” she called.
“In here.”
His voice came from deeper in the villa—from his study. Elena’s pulse quickened as she walked down the hallway, her heels clicking on marble floors.
The study door was open. Inside, Dante sat behind his desk in a dark suit, no tie, his shirt open at the collar. He looked up when she entered, and the hunger in his eyes made Elena’s breath catch.
“Close the door,” he said quietly.
Elena obeyed, her heart racing. “I thought we were having dinner?”
“We are.” Dante stood, moving around the desk with predatory grace. “But first, I need to give you your anniversary present.”
“You already gave me the earrings.”
“Those were just the beginning.” He stopped in front of her, his eyes dragging down her body in a way that made her feel naked despite the dress. “Turn around.”
Elena turned slowly. She heard Dante move behind her, felt his hands slide around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.
“Do you remember,” he murmured against her ear, “the first time I had you in this room?”
How could she forget? The library incident—when he’d lifted her onto the desk and read wine ledgers while touching her until she’d been desperate and aching.
“I remember,” Elena breathed.
“I’ve thought about that day constantly.” His hands slid up her sides, his touch burning through the thin silk. “About how you looked spread out on my desk. How you sounded when you gasped my name. How badly I wanted to take you right there but forced myself to wait.”
“You’re very good at self-control.”
“Not anymore.” His teeth grazed her earlobe. “Not where you’re concerned. Do you know what I’ve been thinking about all day?”
“What?”
“All the things I didn’t do to you that first time.” His hands cupped her breasts through the dress, thumbs brushing her nipples until they peaked. “All the fantasies I’ve had about this desk. About having you exactly where I want you. About making you scream so loud the entire villa knows what I’m doing to my wife.”
Elena’s knees went weak. “Dante—”
“I want to try something.” His voice was rough with desire. “Something we haven’t done before. But I need you to trust me completely.”
“I always trust you.”
“Good.” He released her, moving to the desk. Elena watched as he opened a drawer and pulled out a length of dark silk—a tie, she realized. “Come here.”
Elena crossed to him on shaking legs. Dante turned her to face the desk, then gently pulled her arms behind her back.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice suddenly softer, giving her an out.
Elena looked at the desk—the same desk where he’d first shown her what desire felt like. Where he’d proved that her body could betray her strategic mind. Where their dance had truly begun.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I trust you.”
Dante bound her wrists with the silk tie—not tight enough to hurt, but secure enough that she couldn’t free herself. Then he turned her around to face him.
“Your safe word is ‘Valente,'” he said, his hands cupping her face. “You use it, and everything stops immediately. Understood?”
“Understood.” Elena’s pulse was hammering. “But I won’t need it.”
His smile was dark and promising. “We’ll see.”
Then his mouth was on hers—claiming, devouring, stealing her breath. His hands roamed her body with possessive certainty, mapping every curve through silk that suddenly felt like too much fabric.
Dante broke the kiss, spinning her back around to face the desk. His hand pressed between her shoulder blades, bending her forward until her breasts pressed against the cool wood.
“Stay,” he commanded.
Elena heard him move behind her, heard the clink of his belt buckle, the rustle of fabric. Then his hands were on her thighs, sliding up under the dress, pushing the silk higher.
“No underwear,” he observed, his voice rough with approval. “Were you planning this?”
“The dress made lines—” Elena gasped as his fingers slid between her legs, finding her already wet. “Oh God—”
“So responsive.” His fingers circled her entrance, teasing but not entering. “One year married and you still react to me like it’s the first time.”
“Because it feels—” She moaned as one finger pushed inside. “It always feels like the first time with you.”
“Good.” He added a second finger, pumping slowly while his other hand gripped her hip, holding her in place. “Because I’m never going to stop wanting you like this. Never going to stop finding new ways to make you come apart.”
His fingers worked her with devastating precision, building her up slowly. Elena’s bound hands flexed uselessly behind her back, adding to the sensation of helplessness, of complete surrender.
“Please,” she gasped. “Dante, please—”
“Not yet.” He withdrew his fingers and Elena whimpered at the loss. “First, I want you to understand something.”
She felt him move closer, felt the hard length of him press against her entrance. He was right there, exactly where she needed him, but he didn’t push inside.
“This desk?” His hand slid up her spine. “It’s ours now. The memory of that first time has been replaced. This is where I worshipped my wife on our anniversary. Where I took her while she was bound and desperate and so fucking beautiful I could barely breathe.”
Then he pushed inside—one hard thrust that filled her completely.
Elena cried out, her fingers clutching at nothing, her entire body arching. Dante groaned, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.
“God, Elena—” His control was fracturing. “You feel—”
“Perfect,” she supplied breathlessly. “I feel perfect.”
He pulled back and thrust again, harder this time, setting a rhythm that was anything but gentle. The desk shifted under the force, items falling to the floor, but neither of them cared.
Dante’s hand slid around to find her clit, circling with the same precision he’d used that first time in this room. The dual sensation—him pounding into her from behind while his fingers worked her front—was overwhelming.
“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice rough. “Let me feel you.”
Elena shattered, crying out his name, her body clenching around him. Dante cursed, his rhythm faltering, and then he was following her over, spilling inside her with a groan that might have been her name or might have been a prayer.
They stayed locked together for a long moment, both breathing hard. Then Dante carefully withdrew, gently untying her wrists. Elena’s arms came around, stiff but not hurt, and Dante massaged them carefully, kissing each wrist.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
“Better than okay.” Elena turned in his arms, looking up at him with eyes still glazed from pleasure. “That was—”
“Just the beginning.” His smile was wicked. “That was the appetizer. Dinner is upstairs. In our bedroom. And I plan to spend the entire night showing you exactly how much I love you.”
Elena’s eyes widened. “The entire night?”
“We have a year of fantasies to work through, wife. I’m just getting started.” He kissed her deeply, then pulled back with a grin. “Though you might want to hold onto something. I have plans for you that don’t involve you being able to walk tomorrow.”
“Promises, promises.”
“Oh, I always keep my promises.” Dante swept her up into his arms, dress still rucked up, heels dangling. “By the time I’m done with you tonight, you’ll know exactly how much you mean to me.”
He carried her out of the study, up the stairs, to their bedroom where he proceeded to make good on every single promise.
By the time the sun rose over the vineyards the next morning, Elena was thoroughly loved, completely exhausted, and absolutely certain that marrying Dante Valente was the best decision she’d ever made.
Even if walking was going to be difficult for a few days.
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