The heat of Dante's kiss lingers on my lips long after his mouth leaves mine, a branding mark that burns right through the winter chill seeping from the windowpane.
He doesn't step back. He stays hovering over me, his massive frame trapping me in the narrow space between the frost-rimed glass and the unyielding wall of his chest. His breathing is steady, heavy, and synchronized with the possessive rhythm of his heartbeat.
"Leo just radioed from the perimeter," Dante murmurs, his gravelly baritone dropping a register as his eyes trace the dark violet shadows of exhaustion beneath my eyes. "The first six transport trucks from the Western sectors have cleared the city checkpoints. They’re idling outside the foundry gates, waiting for the Donna’s authorization code to dump the cargo."
"Then I need to get to the pier," I say, my voice sounding breathier than I intend. I make a move to slide out from beneath his arm, but his grip on my waist tightens instantly, pinning me flat against his torso.
"The trucks can wait in the cold, Gianna," Dante growls softly, his amber eyes darkening with a fierce, sudden intensity that makes my pulse completely scramble. "The underbosses are still in my driveway, watching these windows. They need to see that the woman who holds their livelihood doesn't rush for anyone. Especially not for them."
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, sleek black encrypted device—the master terminal for the North Avenue grid. He forces it into my right hand, his large, scarred fingers curling over mine until my knuckles are locked around the plastic casing.
"One button clears the weight sensors. One button transfers the forty percent directly into the private reserve," he whispers, his hot breath brushing the shell of my ear, sending a violent, familiar shiver straight down my spine. "You control the flow of the entire state's supply from this bedroom, little baker. You don't have to freeze on the docks unless you want to see the color of their fear."
I look down at the device, then up into the handsome, ruthless lines of his face. The tiny pale scar through his left eyebrow shifts as his jaw hardens in absolute, unyielding pride. He isn't just protecting me anymore; he’s building a fortress around my authority, reinforcing the perimeter until nothing can touch us.
"I want to go," I whisper, looking him dead in the eye, my fingers tightening around the device. "I want Silvio to see me log the transaction. I want him to know exactly whose hand is pulling the lever."
A low, terrifyingly beautiful purr vibrates through Dante’s chest. A dark, predatory satisfaction settles into the corners of his mouth as he finally releases my waist, only to slide his fingers down until they lock seamlessly with mine, our rings clicking together in the quiet hallway.
"That's my girl," he whispers, his voice cutting through the air like a razor-sharp blade. "Leo, bring the car around to the front steps. The Donna is coming to collect her tribute.”