Dante Marcello’s life has been a carefully planned event as an heir to a Cosa Nostra throne. For as long as he can remember, he’s had one goal in mind, and that’s becoming the Don. With his father ready to step down, it’s Dante’s turn to step up. But without a wife at his side, his seat as the boss is on shaky ground. Until she shows up with an offer he wants to refuse, but can’t.
With her, he’s got everything to gain.
Catrina Danzi is known for her angel face and a predator’s grace. For over a decade, she’s worked as a successful Queen Pin dealing with a repertoire of clientele who can’t afford a scandal. That’s why they ask for her and why they call her Queen. Marrying Dante Marcello means giving up the business and status she loves in order to gain protection she can’t provide on her own, but she no longer has a choice.
Without him, she’s got everything to lose.
The rules for their arrangement are simple: no intimacy, no emotions. Dante isn’t looking for love and Catrina doesn’t need attachments. In the end, life has a way of breaking down walls when you least expect it to, and once love gets in, there’s no bleeding it out. Together, they make a formidable team the Commission won’t be able to ignore. Catrina’s secret of what she’s kept safe will put the entire Marcello family in danger when it finally catches up with her. The Marcellos have yet to be beaten, and they’re not about to start bowing down now.
Even the most beautiful things are a little filthy.
REVIEWS FOR DANTE SAY:
“5 BELLO STARS. Well, I must say that I think Ms. Kris saved the best for last. Dante Marcello, the heir apparent/up and coming Don of the Marcello Cosa Nostra – his story was fantastic!” 5 out of 5 Stars – Suzanne, Guest Reviewer for the Slut Sistas Blog
“I was not disappointed his book was fantastic, best in the series!!!” 5 out of 5 Stars – Shanny, Goodreads Reviewer
“This is my absolute favorite book in the series. Dante and Catrina’s chemistry together is hot hot hot!” 5 out of 5 stars – Ashley, Goodreads Reviewer
Red manicured fingernails, the same shade as her hair and lips, dragged along her outer thigh to the hem of her dress, forcing Dante’s stare downward.
Cristo, she had gorgeous legs.
He bet they would look even better wrapped around his waist.
“Are you drinking?” Dante asked, his tone rough.
Dante blinked, stunned. The thick Italian accent coating her words set him back a step. He hadn’t expected that and for some reason, it put him on edge.
“It’s a club, dolcezza. There’s isn’t much else to do on a Thursday night when you’re sitting at the bar.”
She smiled sweetly—too sweetly. “Oh, I’m doing more than sitting, bello. And I don’t need to drink to do it.”
Her voice was demure, her words rolling off her tongue quietly, but surely. The straightness of her back in the stool spoke of class while her blatant regard of him gave an air of confidence.
She dazed him.
Dante’s wasn’t accustomed to that.
A soft pat-pat-pat sound gained his attention to where her finger hit down on the bar. On the inside of her left index finger, one word was tattooed in fancy black script: Queen.
The edginess burrowed in deep again. When things felt off for Dante, they usually were. This woman made his insides scream it. Both in a good and bad way.
Dante chanced a glance back at the table where his brothers were standing, readying to leave as they pulled on their jackets. They were still talking, though. But the man who had annoyed Dante the most—Gaetano—wasn’t paying Lucian or Gio any mind. No, he was watching the woman at Dante’s side.
Not with interest, as if she may have caught his eye by chance, but instead, he looked at her with the familiarity of a friend.
Dante’s thoughts raced when what he really needed was for his mind to be silent. During the entire meeting, none of the men had spoken of their boss in direct context or out of it. The Marcello brothers had continually referred to the unknown leader of the group as a he because that’s what they assumed they were dealing with in whatever game the men were playing.
Dante was only now realizing they were wrong in doing so.
“You know, you surprised me,” the woman said, drawling her words out with a sensuality that could make a man’s mouth water. Again, she dragged her gaze from Dante’s leather shoes to his green eyes. “You’re much more handsome in person than I thought you would be, Dante Marcello.”
Three things in life made a man most vulnerable: sex, love, and children.
Sex occasionally led to love, and for some, it also led to children. As Dante was incapable of having children, he had no interest in love. Sex, however … well, that was something he simply couldn’t do without.
It was just too damn bad the need left him exposed and it had to be now he learned the lesson to never think with his cock when business was in play.
The woman swiveled fast on her chair at the same time Dante lurched toward her. He found himself between her thighs, crowding her back forcefully to the edge of the bar, nearly pushing her off the stool. The magnum he always kept hidden at his back in a holster was seated in his palm before the woman could speak and the barrel pressed under her chin at her throat.
Dante ticked the gun at her jawline, making her tilt her head back under the weight. She stared him head-on, unabashed and unafraid, smirking mischievously. Her hazel eyes danced with amusement and menace.
He hated her unfazed attitude at his warning only made him hot.
Something sharp nipped at Dante’s groin. Without needing to look down, he could feel the blade of a knife threatening to cut into his balls.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Go on, cock your hammer back, bello,” she urged low. “You wouldn’t be the first to try and take a bite out of me, Dante. I’m not a little girl who frightens easily.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Dante demanded.
His gun dug harder into her jaw. Her knife reacted accordingly at his sac.
“What do you want from me?”
Catrina flashed white teeth in a wicked smile. “I heard you need a wife.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three very young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, a snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a spouse calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.
Find her on Facebook, her blog, her website www.bethanykris.com, or Twitter – @BethanyKris.
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