The Devil's Punishment

|| Sienna Vance's POV ||

My gaze snapped toward the lounge area several yards away, locking straight onto the heavily inked stranger at the center of the applause.

Dante Di Marco.

He was a fresh arrival on the corporate scene, yet his name had already left a massive crater in high society. If there was one undisputed fact circulating the room tonight, it was that the man was filthily, absurdly wealthy.

Lounging back with one long leg draped lazily over the other, Dante looked entirely unbothered by the fanfare. The fingers curled around his glass of cabernet were covered in intricate dark ink that crept up his knuckles and vanished beneath the crisp cuff of his tailored Armani jacket. Shifting my attention to his opposite hand, I caught glimpses of different designs peeking out, leaving me to wonder just how much of the skin beneath that expensive suit was marked. It was a jarring sight on a corporate mogul. Growing up, my father had drilled it into my head that only street thugs and career criminals wore markings like that. Still, there was no way he belonged to that world. Law enforcement had our city on lockdown; around here, the underworld syndicate was nothing more than a bedtime story told to scare kids.

Catching my bottom lip between my teeth, I studied his face. His striking grey eyes held a cold, enigmatic glint that set him apart from every other man in the hall, and his jet-black hair was styled to perfection, catching the low ambient light. He was devastatingly gorgeous—the kind of man who could have easily dominated global runways if he hadn't chosen boardrooms instead. Beside him, an older gentleman was leaning in, clearly trying to pitch a serious conversation, yet Dante remained completely detached, taking slow, unhurried sips from his goblet.

I found myself fixated on the slow, hypnotic roll of his throat as he swallowed, a movement so unexpectedly sensual I had to physically yank my gaze away. Right as I tried to look elsewhere, our eyes collided across the room, and the sheer weight of that dark, magnetic stare nearly made me stumble over my own heels.

What the hell was wrong with me? He was just a man!

Swallowing down the sudden flutter in my chest, I dared to look back, only to find him still watching me. All the air rushed straight out of my lungs under the crushing pressure of those steel-grey eyes. He looked like a falcon locking onto its target from high above, pinning me to the floor with a raw, unmistakable hunger that made me feel like the evening's chosen quarry. Flushing under the prolonged scrutiny, I twisted my hands together, desperate to break the connection.

"Pardon me," I called out, flagging down a passing waiter and reaching for a fresh flute of champagne purely as a prop to tear my attention away from the couch. Yet no matter how I angled my body, a prickle at the back of my neck warned me that those relentless eyes were tracking my every shift.

Downing a large mouthful of the bubbly liquid, I risked a quick peek out of the corner of my eye. My blood ran cold. He hadn't blinked, hadn't looked away for a single second. Running my tongue over my parched lips, I pivoted sharply on my heel. Something about the way he looked at me set off every alarm bell in my body.

Gathering the flowing sea-blue fabric of my gown in one fist, I practically bolted toward the shadowy perimeter of the ballroom, eager to vanish from his haunting line of sight.

God, why was a total stranger rattling me this badly?

_________

|| Dante Di Marco's POV ||

*Sienna Vance.*

The name surfaced from the back of my mind. Not long ago, one of my associates had slid her portfolio across my desk for an upcoming luxury campaign. She had flatly rejected the contract a day later, citing doubts about our corporation's murky financial history. She had been far too nosy about who we really were for her own good.

Fuck, I loved a woman with a sharp tongue.

That little rejection had told me she had brains to match her face, and tonight, she had effortlessly hijacked my undivided attention. While everyone else wore plastic smiles, she was doing a terrible job of masking her utter disdain for this glittering circus—a sentiment I shared entirely.

I tracked her movements through the crowd, thoroughly entertained by her frantic attempts to make herself invisible to me.

Poor little thing. She had no clue that a devil like me never lets his chosen mark slip away.

I couldn't even recall the last time a woman had sparked my interest like this. Not that romance had anything to do with it. In our syndicate, men in my position had free rein to fuck whichever outsiders we pleased, though the ring and the title of a wife were strictly reserved for women born into the families. That was the code we lived and died by.

Watching her slip into a dimly lit alcove to escape my gaze, I let out a low, amused breath and picked up a fresh glass of red, draining the entire thing in one go.

Let's see how well she plays hide-and-seek.

Just then, movement at the edge of my vision caught my eye—a balding middle-aged guy was closing in on her hiding spot. She flashed him a polite, dazzling smile that knocked the wind right out of my chest for the second time tonight.

Christ, she was a knockout.

Her porcelain skin and the lush curves beneath that blue silk practically glowed in the dim light, making my fingers itch to find out just how soft she felt against my palms. A second later, however, I watched her expression curdle with distaste as the cue-ball extended a hand, clearly asking her to hit the dance floor.

Yeah, not a fucking chance. She was my entertainment for the evening.

"So, can I count on your backing, Marco?" Mr. Thaddeus pressed carefully beside me, though I hadn't heard a single word leading up to the question. The politician had been droning on about his upcoming campaign for the last twenty minutes, while my entire focus was locked across the room. A sharp jolt of irritation hit my chest when the bald creep reached out to snag her wrist, plastering a slimy, overly polite grin across his face. I knew that look in a man's eyes. He was stripping her naked in his head, itching to take her to bed before I even got my hands on her.

I rose to my feet in one abrupt motion, startling the circle of men around the sofa. Popping open the two front buttons of my suit jacket, I tossed a dismissive reply over my shoulder to Thaddeus as I ate up the distance across the floor in long, purposeful strides. "My assistant will get back to you on schedule, Mr. Thaddeus."

Closing in on the alcove, I noted the subtle way she was trying to inch backward out of the guy's reach. Was this bastard seriously trying to poach what was mine?

A low rumble of displeasure vibrated in my throat as I stepped right into their personal space, letting my shadow fall over both of them. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

The sudden intrusion made both of them flinch and whip their heads toward me. Sienna went rigid, her wide eyes locking onto mine with guarded calculation. The bald guy blinked up at my towering frame, momentarily stunned before his mouth stretched into an eager, sycophantic grin. "Ah, Mr. Marco! Not at all, sir. I actually waited in your reception area the other afternoon, though your secretary mentioned you were tied up elsewhere. What an absolute privilege that you came over to find me in person."

The corner of my mouth quirked up as I lifted my glass and took a slow, deliberate sip. The idiot ran his mouth way too much. Lowering the rim from my lips, I bypassed him completely, pinning my gaze straight onto my cornered little runaway. "I wasn't addressing you. I was speaking to... this gorgeous lady."

The color drained from the man's face, leaving him gaping like a fish for several seconds before he scrambled to paste on a tight, awkward smile. One brief glance at my ice-cold expression told him everything he needed to know about his survival odds if he lingered. Wisely cutting his losses, he backed away with a hasty nod. "Right... of course. Do enjoy your evening."

"Care for a drink?" I asked casually once we were alone, catching the flicker of wary defiance in her eyes. She was clearly on edge, yet unlike every other socialite in the room, she didn't bother fawning over me or batting her eyelashes. She simply gave a firm shake of her head. Offering a slight shrug, I polished off the rest of my wine and gestured toward the center of the hall. "Looks like you came here without a date. Care to give me a dance, pretty girl?"

I knew full well that charming women wasn't my strong suit. Even when I tried to keep things light, the sub-zero frost in my voice refused to thaw—an occupational hazard of the life I led.

Her gaze darted toward the exits before she dipped her chin in a stiff, formal nod, clearly desperate to shake me off. "I'm flattered, really, but I have a strict ten o'clock curfew tonight."

She actually pivoted to walk out on me. Anger flared hot and fast in my chest; no woman had ever dared turn me down flat like that. Before her heel could click against the marble for a second step, the words tore out of me with a dark edge. "I'm sure Vance Enterprise could use a fresh capital injection from a new investor for their latest development."

She froze mid-stride, whipping her head back around with her brows drawn tight. Slowly running my tongue over my damp lower lip, I let a cold smile settle on my face. "So get on the floor with me, Miss Vance. I promise your old man won't object."

"Are you blackmailing me right now?" she hissed between clenched teeth.

A dark chuckle rolled out of my chest as I grinned down at the fierce flush coloring her cheeks. "Not at all. Call it a penalty for saying no to Dante Di Marco."