Page 89 of Savage Ambition

Salvatore had no clue what was coming for him. The man who thought he owned Dante’s soul had gained a new enemy, one who knew how to dismantle empires from the inside out.

One who would burn the world to ashes to free the man walking beside me.

Iwaited for my next client in the empty employee lounge, pouring a glass of whiskey. Every movement reminded me of Dante. The sticky reminder of our urgency still clung to my skin, a filthy, quiet rebellion against the sterile performance expected of us. In a place where our bodies were commodities, those moments in the limousine belonged entirely to us.

Ishi arrived, her customary black outfit impeccable as always. “Thank you for your help today, Lorenzo.”

I raised my glass. “You’re very welcome. I’m always happy to help with Dragon.”

She studied me with eyes that never missed a single detail. “I appreciate your dedication.” Her emphasis on “dedication” carried layers of meaning in a place where walls had ears and cameras never blinked.

“Please come find me anytime you need someone to take care of another errand like that for you.” I rubbed the rim of my glass with one finger, a gesture calculated to appear casual. “How do you think Dragon feels about me?”

She hid her smile behind her hand in a gesture that effectively blocked the cameras. “I suspect he finds you to be very vexing.”

I chuckled at her assessment. “You’re not wrong.”

“But he needs a challenge to entertain himself, so take that for what you will.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m skilled at challenging his patience.”

“Indeed.”

“It’s nice to know where I stand, thanks.” I took another sip of whiskey, letting the glass hide my expression from the cameras.

Her smile was as charming as it was enigmatic. “It’s a very rare position, so be proud.” She tilted her head in acknowledgment. “On that note, I will leave you to rest. I’m sure you need it after such a taxing errand.”

The emphasis on “taxing” made heat rise to my cheeks despite my usual composure. She missed nothing.

“Until next time,” I replied, the formal phrase carrying the weight of conspiracy between us.

As she slipped out the door, I smiled into my whiskey. Perhaps Dante wasn’t as alone as he believed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

SHAW

The elevator doors closed, leaving me alone with Ishi. “I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly last time.” Guilt had gnawed at me since that night.

She smiled with genuine warmth. “I understand, sir. There’s no need to apologize.” Her tone suggested she understood far more than just my hasty departure.

The doors opened to the familiar hallway. “President Dragon is through the first door on the left tonight. Please enjoy yourself.”

I nodded and exited the elevator. The weight of my credit card felt heavy in my pocket after another payment made with my parents’ money to feed my addiction I couldn’t control.

Standing outside the door, I knocked before entering a Moulin Rouge–themed room. Gold-accented crimson draperies covered the walls, and an enormous bed stood at the center, dressed in matching linens. It gave the space a sense of high-class debauchery that would have horrified my parents. Each visit to Gennaro Corporation peeled away another layer of the person I thought I was.

Dante lounging in drag on a red velvet chaise stopped me in my tracks.

Stiletto heels led up to lacy thigh-highs, past lace panties, and into a corset. His face had softened into beautifully feminine features, framed by cascading blonde hair. A matching lace choker wrapped around his throat to hide his Adam’s apple.

The corset fit him perfectly, the deep black fabric broken by indigo panels that caught the light each time his hips moved. Purple lace climbed the bustline in delicate embroidery, outlining the perfect curves of ample breasts that filled out the structured shape of the overbust cut. The steel boning carved his waist into an hourglass silhouette.

The matching black satin panties had a hint of sheen, edged in the same violet that ran through the corset like a secret only the daring got to keep. They were cut high, framing the sharp angles of his thighs and the soft curve of his ass. The distinct outline of his cock pressed against the delicate material, a reminder of the man beneath the feminine illusion.

Sheer black thigh-highs clung to him tightly, the lace band sitting snug against his upper thighs, trimmed in violet to echo the corset’s embroidery. They made his long legs look endless.

Dante rose from the chaise. Each step toward me was pure seduction. His hips swayed, commanding my complete attention. He towered over me in heels, forcing me to lift my head back.