Dante Read Online Free PDF Page B

men in your place.”
    “Not just my men, Dante. This entire thing. The drugs; your streets; and the information. You still haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”
    Dante blinked, unsure of what she was asking him. Catrina’s finger tapped to the center of his chest, sending sparks blooming across his skin. The tattooed word on her slender, pale digit caught his eye again.
    “Catrina Danzi,” she repeated.
    “That name rings no bells.”
    “To the outside world, it shouldn’t. If it did, I wouldn’t be very good at my job, Dante.” She struck her finger on his chest again. “I think I’ll head out and take my men with me.”
    Dante stepped back. “Do that.”
    Catrina slid off the stool with a learned grace that Dante would appreciate if she were any other woman and not one that had seriously fucked with his head and time tonight. Passing him by, she turned at his shoulder, wiggling her fingers teasingly.
    “For you, it’s Cat, but they’ll know me better as Queen .”
    Stunned, Dante observed the men get up from their respective seats and follow the redhead out of the club without a word. Lucian and Gio, however, were only a few feet behind Dante, both sporting expressions churned with anger and shock. Some patrons were being herded out of the club by men Dante recognized as his own … or rather, his father’s.
    “Did I hear that woman right?” Gio asked when the coast was clear.
    “Depends on what you heard,” Dante replied quietly.
    “A lot,” Lucian said for his brother.
    Dante lifted his shoulders in response, but even the action felt robotic. He didn’t like being tricked and he didn’t like being cornered. Dante was neither a circus show nor an animal needing trained. That woman—Catrina—had treated him like both.
    It pissed him off more.
    “Plan remains the same,” Dante said, reverting back to his cool demeanor. “I want them off my streets.”
    “Even if it’s a woman running them?” Lucian asked.
    “Especially because it’s her running them.”

Chapter Three
     
    Catrina Danzi required but one thing in life to keep her happy and not for the reason most would suspect: men.
    She didn’t need or want their intimacy. Very little about a man interested her enough to keep her attention. The few men she had forged relationships with, physical or otherwise, had been either a pawn in someone’s game, or dead before morning.
    They didn’t call her a black widow, though.
    No, they called her the queen.
    The only reason she required men in her life was for business.
    Being a successful Queen Pin was partly about understanding the environment of the work, then the product came along, and finally, the most important of them all was the ability to find the clients. Cat was mighty good at finding hers. She always had been.
    It wasn’t hard when her looks drew attention, her charm closed the gap, and her product kept them coming back for more. She fit in to high society without gaining attention to her place. If a man—any man so long as he had the right amount of cash and clout—needed her to be the ghost supplying his substance indulgence, she was the perfect fit.
    She didn’t touch the men, though. A good Queen didn’t get involved, certainly not emotionally, and definitely not with a client. Feelings and business didn’t work, regardless of how some men tried to convince her differently. If just one of her clients would realize his worth to her was only as good as the bottom-line on his bank account, maybe they’d get the hint.
    Right. She doubted it.
    Cat had a signature. One she was known for by every client who had her on speed dial. Beyond the bodycon dresses, red lips, and stiletto heels that accentuated her sexuality and held attention, they had all come to know her as Queen.
    Just like that. Simple and clean. Kind of like her business prerogative.
    Well, as clean as dealing drugs could be, that was.
    It had taken Cat a decade to amass the specialty clientele hidden in her