Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride (by Oma Green) novel Chapter 210

Dante's POV

"Got it, got it." The one called Luca raised his hands. "We were just looking for you. Come dance. It's your birthday. Stop babysitting and have some fun."

"I'm good here."

"Seriously?" Stefano groaned. "You're going to spend your birthday playing bodyguard? Come on. One drink. One dance. Then you can come back to whatever this is."

They grumbled but eventually wandered back toward the party, glancing over their shoulders as they left.

"You can join your friends," I said once they'd gone. "I'll be fine. I don't need a babysitter."

"No." Matteo shook his head. "I'm following my mother's orders, protecting you. Besides, if I leave your side, all those guys will flock over here."

"I'm not so sure they care about me." I glanced toward the party. "They seem to be having fun on their own."

"Their eyes have been on you this whole time." Matteo moved closer. "You, in that dress."

I stepped back. "Thanks."

He followed. "I'm serious. You look incredible. That dress fits you perfectly. Shows off everything, your curves, your legs. The way it hugs your waist, the neckline just low enough to make a man wonder..."

I raised my hand to cut him off.

"That's enough."

"Dance with me." His voice turned coaxing. "Just one dance. Consider it a birthday gift."

"No."

"Please? I promise I'll behave. Just one song."

Dante’s warning came back to me.

"My husband might have your head if he catches us."

"I'll take my chances." Matteo grinned. "Besides, it's just a dance. What's the harm?"

"The harm is..."

"One dance, Gianna. That's all I'm asking. Come on." He reached for my hand. "It's my birthday. You wouldn't deny a man a simple dance on his birthday, would you?"

I pulled it back before he could hold it.

"Just one song. Sixty seconds. Less than a minute of your time."

"Matteo..."

"Please?" He clasped his hands together in mock prayer. "I'm begging. Literally begging. One dance. Then I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night if you want."

My heart caved. He wasn’t stopping. He kept talking, each word wearing me down.

"Fine," I finally relented. "One dance. Then you leave me alone."

"Deal."

He led me toward a small clearing where a few other couples swayed to the music drifting from the main party.

His hand found my waist as he took my other hand in his, pulling me closer.

My body went rigid. I shut my eyes.

Suddenly, my mind replaced him with Dante. His strong hands on my waist, fingers spread across the small of my back. His chest pressed against mine as his scent wrapped around me.

The image eased my shoulders, and I relaxed, falling into the rhythm I knew so well with Dante.

Then I opened my eyes.

Matteo’s face was right there, barely an inch from mine.

Everything in me tensed again.

His hands felt cold. Wrong. Like touching ice after being warmed by fire. His chest against mine held no heat, no comfort. His breath smelled of whiskey and mint gum, and something bitter underneath.

"You're tense," Matteo murmured.

"I don't want to dance with you."

I went rigid. "What are you talking about?"

"Seeking happiness elsewhere. Pleasure where you can find it. You're young, beautiful, full of life. Why waste it on a man who can't give you what you need? Who probably can't even..."

"My husband pleasures me." My voice turned to ice. "More than your imagination could even conjure. And I don't need to seek anything elsewhere because I have everything I could ever want with him."

"I'm not so sure about that." Matteo's grip tightened, pulled me closer despite my resistance.

"A man as old as my father? With a young girl like you? There's no way he can keep up with what your body needs. What your heart needs. The stamina, the passion, the raw energy. He can't match you. Not at his age. But I could. I'm young, fit. I could show you things he's probably forgotten how to do."

"Stop." I tried to pull away. His arms locked around me. "This conversation is over. Let go of me."

“Is it?” he murmured, his breath making my skin crawl. “Because I think you’re curious. I think part of you wonders what it would be like with someone your own age. Someone who could actually satisfy you. Someone who…”

He didn't loosen his hold. Instead, he tightened it.

"My husband would have your head for this," I added, my voice shaking with anger now.

Matteo just tilted his head, studying me, something cold creeping into his expression. "We're in my house, Gianna. Surrounded by my father's guests, my father's security. What's he going to do? Storm in here and start shooting?"

"Yes," I hissed. "He'll shoot you."

"You're exaggerating."

"I'm warning you."

But he wasn't listening. His hand came up to cup my jaw, fingers pressing into my skin.

"Stop fighting," I twisted my head away, trying to break free, but his other arm was locked around my waist.

“No woman has ever resisted my touch.”

"Get off me!" I clawed at his arm, panic flooding through me.

He tilted his head and leaned in to forcefully kiss me.

His lips were an inch from mine when the gunshot exploded.