The Bastard's Betrayal: An O'Malley-Romanov Novel (Scandalous Scions Book 1)

by Katee Robert

  She carefully massaged her legs, easing the last of the pins-and-needles feeling. The door was still… Except no, it wasn’t still open. Even as she watched, it made an automated sound and eased closed. She was well and truly trapped.

  Fuck.

  She looked around the plane slowly, keeping one eye on Dante. It was posh and generic, and there wasn’t a single thing that didn’t seem to be bolted down. There certainly wasn’t a conveniently placed phone for her to call out with. Even if she’d been able to, she didn’t know where they were going or what waited for her there. Attacking Dante once they were in the air wasn’t a great plan even if she succeeded in taking him out; she didn’t know what kind of situation they’d be landing in. If he was taking her to LA, then showing up with his head bashed in was a good way to get herself shot.

  No, her play had to be the good-girl route until she had more information and an exit strategy.

  Dante strode back toward her as the plane jerked into motion. He had the same basic features at the man she’d dated, but it was like looking at a stranger. He wore a white button-down that somehow didn’t have a speck of dirt on it and a pair of slacks, but the difference was more than the clothes. This man moved like a predator; sure he was the most dangerous person in the room.

  Fool.

  She didn’t know if she meant Dante or herself. She still couldn’t believe she’d fallen for his lies, that she’d thought he was normal. She flat out couldn’t believe she’d fallen for him.

  “Take it off.”

  Rose started. “Excuse me?”

  He dropped into the chair across from her and swept his hand in a motion that encompassed her entire body. “That fucking dress. The one you were going to wear to marry Romeo Capparelli. Take it off. Now.”

  Chapter 5

  A normal person would be terrified and rumpled after spending several hours in a trunk. Rose Romanov just looked as gorgeous as she had when he walked into the bridal suite. Her lipstick wasn’t even smudged. She hid her emotions well, but Dante could see the fury simmering in her hazel eyes. It was the same fury she’d worn when she shot him. Twice.

  When they’d dated, they never fought. Dante had worked hard to dull all his sharp edges and not do anything to piss her off. In turn, she wasn’t one of those people who looked for an excuse to get her back up. The first time he’d seen her made was when she’d had the gun in her hand.

  As a result, he had little frame of reference for how this would play out. He relished the anticipation that curled through him. Oh yeah, this was going to be good.

  She pressed her hands flat to her thighs, currently encased in that fucking wedding dress. When she spoke, her words were clipped and dry. “I’m sorry, I thought you just told me to take off my dress. But that couldn’t possibly be right because you’re not a monster.”

  He almost laughed. If she thought she could play to his better side, she would be sorely disappointed to learn he didn’t have a better side. “If you make me repeat myself, I’ll hold you down and cut it off you.”

  Rose tensed. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.” He kept his posture relaxed, easy. Just as easy as his words. He watched her closely, though. At this point, this interaction could go two ways. Either she folded or she doubled down.

  They both fell silent and still as the plane picked up speed. His stomach went weightless for a brief moment as they took to the air, but all he felt was relief. They were untouchable for the moment. All hell would be waiting to break loose the moment they landed, but until then, he could focus entirely on the woman before him. “I’d hate to cut up that pretty skin on accident, but I sure as fuck wouldn’t hate to cut off your panties in the process.”

  “Pig.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. Choose, Rosa.”

  She pushed to her feet. Rose reached around behind her, the position making her breasts press precariously against the front of her dress. She cursed. “I can’t do it myself. It took two of my sisters to get me into this dress.”

  “Why did you pick this one?”

  She arched a brow and swept a hand over her body. “Look at me, Dante. Romeo Capparelli is the head of his family. If I have any hope of coming out on top of our interactions, that means playing dirty. You were partially right before. I don’t care about the other men in the room, but I sure as hell want my new husband to want to fuck me so badly, he’s not thinking straight.”

  Jealousy scoured him. “Romeo will never touch you.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  He would appreciate her stubbornness later, perhaps. Right now, he wanted to snarl and snap until she admitted her marriage to that bastard was dead in the water. He motioned with his fingers. “Turn around.”

  “Why?”

  “You said you need help with the dress.” He made a show of looking around. “I see no one else around. Do you?”

  “You could just let me keep it on.”

  Absolutely fucking not. He held her gaze, letting her see that she wasn’t the only one furious right now. Dante would not hesitate to hold her down and cut off that fucking dress, and she finally seemed to understand exactly how serious he was.

  Rose held up both hands. “If you cut me, I’ll fucking kill you.”

  “Turn around,” he repeated.

  Slowly, oh so slowly, she rotated to face away from him. Dante exhaled soundlessly as he took her in. The dress looked like it had no back, just a row of tiny little buttons going down her spine to the small of her back where the white fabric rose to meet it. Her ass was truly a masterpiece, round and high, and when he was playing Jackson Smith, he’d had to resist the urge to set his teeth against the tight curve. Jackson Smith liked his sex sweet and easy, and Dante had been forced to keep himself tightly leashed to maintain the role.

  He wasn’t playing a role now.

  He grabbed her hips, ignoring her squawk of protest, and pulled her back until she stood between his thighs. Touching her instantly eased something in him. She wasn’t walking down the aisle to Romeo Capparelli. She wasn’t putting his ring on her finger or driving him wild with lust as he worked to get her out of this masterpiece of a dress.

  She was here, with Dante. “Hold perfectly still.”

  “I’m going to gut you. Rough and messy. You’ll be left standing there, holding your intestines, and regretting ever meeting me. It will be lovely.” She said it so pleasantly, he grinned. Vicious little beast, wasn’t she?

  He pulled his switchblade from his pocket and opened it with a near-silent swish. She heard it, though, because she tensed even more. Dante considered his options. Top to bottom, he decided. He reached up and flicked the blade against the top button. It fell to the ground, leaving the flesh-colored mesh fabric to part and reveal her actual skin beneath. He repeated the process, working his way down. He held his breath, barely resisting the urge to do anything about inch after inch of her bare skin being revealed right there in front of him.

  He wanted to taste her, to touch her, to toss her to the floor and fuck her until she forgot all about marrying Romeo fucking Capparelli. Until she admitted she belonged to Dante and Dante alone.

  Patience.

  He didn’t have much to pull from. When he wanted something, he took it, and people fell all over themselves getting out of his way while he did. That wouldn’t work with Rose. Maybe it shouldn’t excite him to know that his identity actually made her harder to seduce, that she would fight him until he proved his dominance, but Dante liked what he liked.

  Right now, he liked Rose.

  He reached the end of the buttons and cut the last one free. She’d moved her hands to her chest, holding the dress in place, and he allowed it for now. The muscles on either side of her spine flexed as she shifted, shaking just a little bit. In fear? Desire? He couldn’t tell. Not without seeing her face, and even then, he couldn’t be sure.

  Not when she lied just as well as he did.

  He dragged the flat of his knife
down her spine, mostly to see what she’d do. Other than sucking in a sharp breath, she gave no response. Interesting. He considered her another moment and then set the knife aside. The little zipper at the small of her back tried to stick, but he muscled it down, dragging it along the curve of her ass. There.

  Dante took her hips again, dipping his hands beneath the now-loose fabric. “Let go.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Rosa.” He put enough threat into his voice to make her tense. “Let go.”

  She sighed in exasperation and her hands dropped to her sides. The dress immediately went slack, and he slid his hands down the outside of her thighs, pushing the fabric ahead of him. Beneath it, she wore only a pair of red panties, the kind that were cut high against her ass. Not quite a thong, but not full coverage, either. He dragged his hands back up to her hips and traced his thumbs over the lace. “Aren’t brides supposed to wear white?”

  “I wasn’t planning on playing the virgin for my new husband, so no.”

  Rage rose in a red wave to match her panties. It nearly swept him under. He inhaled slowly, letting her scent consume him. It didn’t matter what she’d planned on doing to—with—Romeo Capparelli. She was here now, with him. That motherfucker would never touch her. Unless… His grip tightened on her hips. “Did you fuck him already, Rosa?”

  “Yes. Definitely. In every position. He made me come so hard, I forgot my name, and then he fucked my ass and did it again.”

  He spun her to face him, catching her hips again when she nearly toppled. Having Rose’s perfect tits right at eye level nearly derailed him, but her words still rang in his ears. “You don’t like anal.”

  “The co-ed you dated didn’t like anal, Jackson.” She was beautiful in her fury, eyes blazing, and skin flushed. She leaned down and gripped the top of his seat. Dante didn’t mean to retreat, but his back found the seat all the same. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and he had a moment to curse the fact he was still wearing clothes before she kept speaking, her voice low and vicious. “I didn’t bother to pretend with Romeo. I sucked his cock in the back seat of his car, fucked him in the coat room of our favorite restaurant, and let him finger me whenever he fucking felt like it. He makes it so good, and I’m always wet for him. I never faked it with him.”

  She was lying. She had to be.

  Except he couldn’t be sure.

  Dante grabbed the back of her knees and jerked, yanking her down to straddle him. Rose instantly tried to push away, but he just pulled her closer, sealing them together. “You never faked it with me. Admit it.” He might have held himself back during sex, but he’d always made it good for her. He was sure of it.

  “Feeling insecure, baby?” She gave a low laugh. “Someone likes hearing me talk about fucking his enemy.” She rolled her hips, rubbing herself along his hard cock. “Poor Dante. It’s okay that you need to be told what good sex is. I’d say someday you’ll figure it out, but I’m going to kill you before you get a chance.”

  She truly was glorious like this, even if every instinct he had demanded he punish her for the shit she spewed. She was lying. Dante dug one hand into her mass of dark hair and forced her down to press her forehead against his. “Let’s get two things straight, Rosa.”

  “That’s not my name.”

  He ignored that. “First, I don’t give a fuck if you’ve slept your way through the entirety of New York in the last three months. It’s over now.”

  “The fuck it is. I—”

  “Two.” He stroked his free hand up her thigh and brushed his knuckles against her lower stomach just above the line of her panties. She froze, a little tremor lighting up her body. “You held back with me every hour that we were together. Kept your sharp edges blunted and your vicious little streak well hidden. Do you honestly think it’s any different with me, right down to the way we fucked?”

  She jerked back and he let her. Rose stared down at him. “What?”

  “I faked it.” He took entirely too much pleasure throwing her words from three months ago back in her face. “When I fuck you next—and I will—there will be no reason to hold back. You’ll beg me for more.”

  “You bastard.” She said it slowly, almost in a daze. “You gave me mediocre sex on purpose.”

  “Call it what you want.” Dante dipped his thumb beneath the band of her panties. Just enough to breach that barrier, but he didn’t touch her the way he really wanted to. Not yet. “Let’s not throw stones from glass houses. You never said a single fucking word, never complained, just took what I gave you and didn’t ask for more. So, if the sex was mediocre, I’m not the only one to blame.”

  “I hate you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Definitely.” She pushed on his chest again. This time, he released her. Rose staggered to her feet and glared. “Touch me again, and I’ll make you regret it.”

  He raised his brows. “Keep saying that, but I have a wet spot on my pants that makes a liar out of you.”

  She turned away. “Sounds like a you problem, Dante.”

  He watched her put a swing in her step as she walked away from him, disappearing through the door into the room with the bed. Only then did Dante allow himself a small smile. “Game on, Rosa.”

  Chapter 6

  Rose closed the door between her and Dante and stopped short. There, sitting in the middle of the bed, was a cell phone. She stared for a long moment and then moved around the bed to the bathroom. It took a few minutes to take care of business, but she had no more clarity by the time she returned.

  At least Dante hadn’t followed her in.

  She snorted. Of course, he hadn’t followed her in. Why would he press her when there was a neatly laid trap just sitting on the bed, waiting to be sprung? This phone was obviously left here on purpose. She stared at it, feeling like she was looking down the barrel of a gun. Rose was so fucking tired. Her thoughts felt sluggish and, at the same time, too zippy to focus properly. Dante had outplayed her at every turn, and even though she was pretty sure she’d made the right call back at the church, she couldn’t be sure.

  She couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.

  What motivation could he possibly have for her to call home? She was his prisoner, his captive. Better to keep her isolated until he accomplished whatever he’d set out to do. No matter what Dante said, she didn’t honestly believe he was there for her.

  To disrupt her marriage with Romeo Capparelli and send both the Capparelli and Romanov families tailspinning into a war? Definitely.

  Because somehow he’d seen her shooting him as foreplay? Absolutely not.

  Or…

  She barely dared think it, but she wouldn’t get through this by shying away from her deepest thoughts. She took a slow breath and faced the most unrealistic of the options.

  That it had felt real for him, too. That maybe he’d gone and fallen for the pared down version of her the same way she’d fallen for the false version of him. How much of what they’d shared was real?

  Rose shook her head. Impossible. It didn’t matter if he’d dropped tidbits from his real life during their time together. She’d dug deep into him for the last three months and his mother was dead, and he did have a truly complicated relationship with his uncle. She’d expected the truth to give her some closure, but all she had was more questions.

  Better to focus on the here and now, starting with the phone.

  Really, Dante had no reason to give her the opportunity to call home. On the other hand, what valid information did she have to give her family even if she called them now? She didn’t know where she was headed or what he intended. He’d no doubt taken precautions to ensure they couldn’t track the phone’s location. Really, he risked nothing by allowing her this. She still didn’t understand why.

  Rose picked up the phone. She needed to tell her family that she was alive and pass on what little information she had. All she really knew was that Dante Verducci had kidnapped her.

  Sharing that bit of in
tel would have consequences. Fuck. Everything would have consequences right now, none of them good. The Capparellis were going to be pissed. Papa and Mama would be pissed. She’d wager even her uncles Aiden and Teague would be pissed. She wasn’t as close to them as some of her family members, but she was still half O’Malley, and neither of them would take this kind of attack without wanting to strike back. Family was family, no matter how complicated.

  But if she didn’t call?

  Her parents would know she’d never run from the wedding on her own power. Romeo, though? She couldn’t be sure. He might accuse them of breaking faith, which would start a rock rolling down a hill that no one could stop. They had to avoid war, no matter the cost. Failing to do so would mean people she cared about ending up dead.

  At least if her family and Romeo knew who took her, they could direct their fury at the Verduccis instead of each other. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples. If that were true, though, why was Dante giving her a blatant invitation to call home? Surely he’d want to keep things hush-hush for as long as possible? It was in his best interest to have Romanovs and Capparellis at each other’s throats.

  Rose couldn’t afford to make any assumptions at all right now.

  She absolutely refused to think about how he carefully cut off her dress and then touched her like… Like she was already his and he had every right to her. The man was out of his goddamn mind if he thought he could just roll in like this after lying to her and giving her mediocre sex for months and act like they could pick up right where they left off.

  Jesus, Rose. The thing you should be most furious about is the kidnapping, not the fact that he held back during sex.

  She ignored that snide little voice inside her and snatched up the phone. No matter how much time she wasted looking at angles for this, the truth was that she couldn’t let her family worry. She glanced at the door leading to the rest of the plane and, after the barest consideration, dialed Lorelei.