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65- The Dance
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2025-03-14 19:23:27The air around us shifted. The tension, already thick, hardened into something suffocating as Alexandro leaned back in his chair, smirking. His attention was still on me. Only me. He lifted his glass, taking a slow sip, before tilting his head slightly—like he was considering something. And then, with a voice smooth as silk, he said it. "Dance with me." The words landed like a gunshot. The entire table fell silent. I felt the shift before I even looked. The way the men glanced between Dante and Alexandro, some amused, some wary. I knew what this was. This wasn't a request. It was a power move. A game. And I was the piece being played.
I hesitated for only a second, my heartbeat thudding in my ears. If I refused, I would be insulting someone with enough power to openly challenge Dante. If I accepted… I'd be walking into something far more dangerous than just a dance. I swallowed hard. Then, without turning my head, I glanced at Dante. He didn't stop me. Didn't say
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Ruined By Mafia 66- The Dance
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, trying to force the chaos inside me back into a cage. The physical pain helped, providing a focal point, a tether to reality as my thoughts threatened to spiral completely out of control. I fought to keep my expression composed, aware that dozens of eyes might be watching this interaction, analyzing.Before I could even process my next move—A chair scraped back violently across the marble floor.The sound sliced through the air like a blade, cutting through the music, the conversation, the carefully maintained veneer of civility that coated this gathering of predators. It was a jarring, discordant note in the symphony of luxury and power.The room tensed. Conversations faltered mid-sentence. The clinking of crystal glasses ceased. Even the orchestra seemed to hesitate, the music temporarily losing its confident rhythm before recovering. The collective attention of the room shifted, drawn like sha
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The car’s silence was suffocating, broken only by the faint hum of the engine as we sped down the road. My heart pounded so loudly in my chest that I was sure they could hear it. I had never been so aware of my own breathing—shallow, uneven, as I tried to keep it under control. But every time I glanced at *him*, at Dante Ricci, my pulse spiked again.I wasn’t sure if it was fear or the cold, disinterested way he looked at me, like I wasn’t even worth the air I was breathing. His presence was suffocating, like a predator calmly watching its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. My mind raced for answers, anything that could get me out of this situation. But I had nothing. No plan, no escape. Just the terror that was freezing my limbs in place.“Where are you taking me?” My voice barely came out, trembling and fragile.Dante’s eyes flickered toward me for a brief second before shifting back to the window. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.“I—I didn’t see anything,” I presse
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**Dante's POV**I closed the door behind me, the quiet click of the latch settling in the otherwise still house. Her scent lingered in the hallway, faint but undeniable—a mixture of fear and something softer, something that shouldn’t have piqued my interest, but it did. I clenched my fists, pushing the thought aside.I didn’t need this distraction. Not now.The girl—Elena. She wasn’t supposed to matter. She was an inconvenience. A problem that should have been handled the moment she saw too much. But instead of dealing with her, I let her live. Why?I stalked down the hallway, the sound of my footsteps echoing off the marble floors. My mind was racing, trying to grasp at a reason, an explanation that didn’t make me sound like I was losing control. I wasn’t. I *couldn’t* be. Control was everything. I’d built my entire life around that one principle—control over my men, control over my enemies, and most importantly, control over myself.So why did I hesitate when it came to her?When I
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I didn’t sleep that night. I tried, lying there in the oversized bed with its heavy blankets, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. Cold, calculating, watching me like I was just another problem to solve. The words he left me with echoed in my mind.“Tomorrow, you’ll see what it means to live in my world.”I didn’t know what that meant, but it filled me with dread. What did he expect me to do? Fight? Survive? I was just a college student. I wasn’t built for this—whatever *this* was. But that didn’t seem to matter to Dante. In his world, either you adapted or you died. He made that abundantly clear.When the first light of dawn slipped through the cracks of the heavy curtains, I finally gave up trying to sleep and sat up. My body felt stiff, my muscles tight from the tension I carried all night. I rubbed my face with both hands, trying to shake off the exhaustion that clung to me.A soft knock on the door startled me, and I froze. The knock came again, more insistent this ti
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Ruined By Mafia 66- The Dance
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, trying to force the chaos inside me back into a cage. The physical pain helped, providing a focal point, a tether to reality as my thoughts threatened to spiral completely out of control. I fought to keep my expression composed, aware that dozens of eyes might be watching this interaction, analyzing.Before I could even process my next move—A chair scraped back violently across the marble floor.The sound sliced through the air like a blade, cutting through the music, the conversation, the carefully maintained veneer of civility that coated this gathering of predators. It was a jarring, discordant note in the symphony of luxury and power.The room tensed. Conversations faltered mid-sentence. The clinking of crystal glasses ceased. Even the orchestra seemed to hesitate, the music temporarily losing its confident rhythm before recovering. The collective attention of the room shifted, drawn like sha
Ruined By Mafia 65- The Dance
The air around us shifted. The tension, already thick, hardened into something suffocating as Alexandro leaned back in his chair, smirking. His attention was still on me. Only me. He lifted his glass, taking a slow sip, before tilting his head slightly—like he was considering something. And then, with a voice smooth as silk, he said it. "Dance with me." The words landed like a gunshot. The entire table fell silent. I felt the shift before I even looked. The way the men glanced between Dante and Alexandro, some amused, some wary. I knew what this was. This wasn't a request. It was a power move. A game. And I was the piece being played.I hesitated for only a second, my heartbeat thudding in my ears. If I refused, I would be insulting someone with enough power to openly challenge Dante. If I accepted… I'd be walking into something far more dangerous than just a dance. I swallowed hard. Then, without turning my head, I glanced at Dante. He didn't stop me. Didn't say
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Ruined By Mafia 63- The Aftermath
The moment they stepped back into the room, I knew something was wrong. The door to the private chamber swung open with a soft click, and both men emerged, their re-entry drawing the subtle attention of everyone at our table and several others nearby. My eyes fixed on them immediately, searching for clues, for some indication of what had transpired behind closed doors.Dante's expression was unreadable, a perfect mask of composure that gave nothing away to the casual observer. But I wasn't a casual observer, and I wasn't fooled by the veneer of calm he projected. There was tension in his shoulders, a controlled stillness to the way he walked—as if he was barely keeping himself from snapping someone's neck. His movements were too precise, too measured, like a predator restraining itself with tremendous effort. The slight tightness around his eyes, the almost imperceptible clench of his jaw—these were warning signs I'd learned to recognize during my time with him. W
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The conversation around the table continued, but I wasn't paying attention anymore. The voices of everyone blended into a meaningless hum as something else captured my awareness—a subtle shift in the atmosphere that prickled against my skin. I could feel him before I saw him. A new presence. A shift in the air that altered the energy of the entire room.It was subtle at first—the way the men at the table adjusted their posture, straightening almost imperceptibly in their seats. The way their laughter quieted just slightly, becoming more measured, more controlled. The way Dante's fingers, which had been idly tapping against his crystal glass, suddenly stilled. These minute changes spoke volumes. Whoever this man was, he mattered. He carried weight in this world I was still learning to navigate.I turned my head just as he approached, stepping into the warm glow cast by the ornate chandeliers overhead. The golden light seemed to accentuate everything about him—his height, his posture, t
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I continued before he could reply, knowing that maintaining momentum was crucial, that hesitation now would undermine the confidence I had projected. "Sometimes, it just means we're not what people expect." A careful answer, one that acknowledged the danger implied in his warning while suggesting that perhaps the danger applied more to others than to me. Not a claim of immunity or invulnerability, which would have been both false and foolish, but rather a subtle indication that I understood more than they might assume.A brief silence followed, heavy with assessment and consideration. The gray-eyed man's expression remained largely impassive, but there was something in his gaze now—a spark of interest, perhaps, or simply acknowledgment that this conversation had taken an unexpected turn. The others at the table watched with varying degrees of curiosity, their attention shifting between the gray-eyed man, Dante, and myself as they waited to see how this exchange would develop.Then—he
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I could feel the weight of their eyes on me, heavy and assessing, like physical pressure against my skin. Each gaze carried different intentions—some curious, others suspicious, a few openly hostile—but all shared the same underlying quality: calculation. Nothing and no one was viewed without first determining value, usefulness, or threat level. I was being cataloged, dissected, my worth measured in ways I couldn't fully comprehend. Their scrutiny raised goosebumps along my arms despite the warmth of the crowded room, a primitive response to predatory attention that no amount of composure could fully suppress.Watching. Calculating. Assessing my worth. These weren't casual observations born of idle curiosity. These were deliberate evaluations made by men who had built empires on their ability to read people, to identify weaknesses and strengths with a single glance. I could almost feel them stripping away layers of pretense, searching for the truth beneath the carefully constructed fa
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We approached the entrance, where two men in dark suits stood with the perfect stillness of those trained to become part of the scenery until needed. Their eyes flicked to Dante, recognition immediate, respect or fear—perhaps both—evident in the subtle inclination of their heads. Then their gaze shifted to me, assessing, cataloging, memorizing. In their world, unknown elements were threats until proven otherwise, and I was very much an unknown.The doors opened before us, revealing a foyer of marble and crystal, of art worth more than most people would see in a lifetime. The space was designed to overwhelm, to remind visitors of their place in the hierarchy before they even reached the main gathering. It was psychological warfare disguised as decoration, and even knowing its purpose didn't diminish its effectiveness.The moment we entered, I felt it. The shift in the air. The subtle change in atmospheric pressure that came not from weather but from power—from the awareness of predator
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The car rolled to a stop, the hum of the engine fading into silence. The transition from movement to stillness was jarring, marking the end of whatever sanctuary the journey had provided. Through the tinted windows, I could see the blurred outlines of other vehicles, sleek and black like ours, their polished surfaces reflecting the golden glow emanating from the mansion. Each one carried someone who could destroy lives with a single command, who navigated this world of shadows and power with the ease of those born to it.For a long moment, I didn't move. My fingers remained clasped tightly in my lap, the knuckles white with tension despite my attempts to appear composed. I drew in a slow, measured breath, trying to steady the rapid beating of my heart, to quiet the voice in my head screaming that I wasn't ready for this—that I would never be ready for this.Beyond the tinted glass, the world I wasn't ready for awaited me. A realm of predators and prey, of calculated moves and devastat
