Chapter 18: You might have a big c*ck, but I’m not scared
Gia’s POV
Just for a second, I saw a trace of desperation in Dante’s face. It almost made him look human, but I knew better.
Whatever he wanted from me, I wasn’t giving it. This man had to be insane if he thought I’d willingly be used as bait to lure my father out. Even if my father was alive, I wasn’t betraying him. His survival meant I still had hope of escaping this place someday.
Still… I wasn’t stupid. I knew if I pushed too hard without giving him something, I’d be the one paying the price.
I leaned over the table, tracing a route with my finger like I was giving him something valuable. “There was a dock. Some port warehouses east of the city. He used it sometimes.”
Dante didn’t even look at the map. His eyes stayed locked on my face. “You’re lying.”
Of course he knew. He always knew. But he wasn’t getting the truth, not today, not ever. He wanted to break me? I’d make him work for it.
We stared each other down. Neither of us blinked. I could feel his patience slipping, and that only made me love messing with him more.
“Gianna,” he growled, “you will fucking speak now or…”
“Oh… but I’m speaking,” I cut in, my tone soft and mocking.
I rose from my chair, leaned in until my lips hovered an inch from his ear, and let my words drip like poison. “It’s not my fault you’ve refused to believe me.”
His entire body went rigid.
“Gianna…” he warned, his tone darker now. “That’s strike two. You keep trying to mess with me, but the consequences are dire.”
Dante leaned back in his chair like he was physically stopping himself from losing it, that calm–before–the- storm kind of energy that made it more terrifying.
“Let’s try this again.
He pushed a bunch of pictures close enough that I couldn’t avoid looking, even if I wanted to.
“Take a good look, Gianna. Real good. These are your father’s known properties, the places we’ve already checked. Now\… tell me if there’s anywhere missing. Somewhere off the record. A family shed in the woods, I don’t care. Point it out.”
My eyes dropped to the mess of photos, scanning faces I recognized instantly. Some were my father’s bodyguards. Others were men he’d once introduced to me as business partners. I remembered them from our home when I was growing up, men who used to bring me gifts on my birthdays.
The rest were vacation homes, private properties. Most of it was familiar.
But then one picture caught my eye,
My fingers traced the image.
Barta. A small town located at the far end of the city.
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My birthplace,
The place I’d been told my mother died giving birth to me. My father never took me there, no matter how much I begged. But my aunt had shown me pictures, told me stories about its winding streets, its gardens, and the cliffside view of the ocean. She painted it like a dream, and I’d carried that dream with me for years.
When I turned sixteen, I pleaded with my father to take me for my birthday. To my surprise, he said yes.
It was beautiful. Peaceful,
And my mother’s grave was there. I finally got to “see” her, even if she was under the ground. I spoke to her like she could hear me. It became one of the most treasured memories I had with my father.
And now? Knowing Dante’s men had been there, had probably stomped through it with their boots, treated it like another search site… it made my stomach turn. That memory, that place, wasn’t theirs to touch.
He’d already destroyed my life. And yet, here he was, trying to strip me of whatever scraps of it I had left.
I lifted my gaze to him, anger surging hot in my chest, and before I could stop myself, the words came spilling out.
I shoved the picture aside. “And if I don’t? What then, Don?” I shot at him. “You gonna chain me to this chair until I cry and beg to be your good little informant?”
Dante’s expression didn’t move. That was worse than if he’d yelled.
I leaned forward slowly, voice low and filled with spite. “You might have a big cock, but I’m not scared of you.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
His face changed instantly, rage tightening his jaw, his eyes going colder than ice.
I sank back in my chair like that tiny movement could save me. It couldn’t.
Around us, a couple of the men let out a low “Ahh,” like they’d just seen something suicidal. They quickly looked away like they hadn’t just reacted.
But I’d seen their faces… shock, disbelief that I’d dared to speak to him like that.
Bruno coughed, muttering through clenched teeth, “She’s insane.”
Dante’s eyes snapped to him, and Bruno shut up fast.
Then, without a word, he stood and came around the table.
“Wait…” I barely got it out before he grabbed my wrist and yanked me upright.
“This is your final strike,” he growled, voice low and vicious.
I tried to twist free. “Let go…”
But instead, he hauled me off the floor like I weighed nothing and flung me over his shoulder.
My fists pounded into his back as I kicked. “You put me down right now!”
His hand came down hard on my ass, once, firm enough to sting. “You’re going to learn today, doll. You’re not in charge here. And you will never speak to me like that again.”
I lifted my head and looked over my shoulder at the men. “Help me! Please! Save me! I could be your sister!”
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Not one of them moved or showed pity.
They just smirked, probably happy I was finally getting what they thought I deserved.
“You’re all brutes!” I yelled at them. “Heartless brutes!”
Bruno stepped forward and pulled the door open for Dante, his smirk wide and unapologetic.
As we passed through, Dante’s voice rumbled above me, promising, “It’s time for your punishment.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
