C103 I Am Your Woman

Dante stood in the doorway.

His broad shoulders were framed by the golden light spilling in from the hallway.

His dark eyes swept over the room as he noted the dishevelled bed and the faintly trembling figure of Annabelle.

He frowned slightly at the way she hugged herself as if to keep from falling apart.

She was wearing one of those plain shirts that hung loose around her petite frame, paired with simple leggings.

Her rich cascade of chestnut waves looked slightly mussed.

It was as though she’d been tugging at it in frustration and Dante could guess why.

He could see the tension in the tight line of her shoulders and the way her fingers fidgeted at her sides.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she blurted out before he could say a word, “Did you…hurt him?”

Her voice was shaky and almost accusatory.

But it was layered with an underlying hesitation that made him raise his brow.

Dante’s jaw tightened. “Are you asking because you hope I did?”

His words were sharp and deliberate.

Her eyes widened in horror. “No!” she said quickly, her voice laced with conviction. “Of course not. I’d never…”

She broke off, visibly flustered, and the room fell into a charged silence.

He watched her fumble.

Her gaze darted to the floor and then back up to him like a trapped doe, unsure whether to fight or flee.

The sight of her like this chipped away at his earlier anger.

He couldn’t figure out why she was still so skittish around him after everything they’d been through.

As he studied her, a wave of longing swept over him.

It was fierce and all-consuming.

He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she forgot every other man who had ever wronged her.

His gaze flicked to the bed and a dozen and one wicked images filled his mind.

He clenched his fists.

No.

Not like this.

Not when she looked ready to bolt at the slightest movement.

Dante wanted her to come to him willingly, to burn for him as much as he burned for her.

“What do you want from me, Annabelle?” he asked finally, his voice low, steady.

She blinked, caught off guard by the question.

“I want protection,” she said after a moment. “For me and my sister.”

He crossed his arms, waiting for her to continue.

“I want to take Cathy away from my mother before she gets caught up in... everything.” Annabelle’s words came out in a rush. “And I want a better life for both of us. A chance to start over.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And you think offering me your body is how you’ll get me to do that?”

Annabelle stiffened as her cheeks flamed with colour.

“No,” she said, shaking her head vehemently. “Not just that. I can work for you too, if that’s what you want.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut.

She spoke about herself like she was some bargain-bin item.

His anger simmered just below the surface, but he forced himself to keep his tone measured.

“Annabelle,” he said slowly, deliberately, “you’re not a maid. And if you think I’d let you trade yourself for a favour, you don’t know me at all.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. “From here on, you’re mine. My woman. And nothing. I repeat…nothing is going to change that.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting in shock.

“Say it,” he demanded, stepping closer.

“What?”

“Say you’re my woman,” Dante said, his voice brooking no argument.

Annabelle hesitated for a heartbeat, her gaze searching his.

Then, to his surprise, she nodded. “I’m your woman,” she whispered.

“Louder.”

“I’m your woman,” she repeated, her voice stronger this time.

His chest tightened at her words, at the way she said them with a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

For a brief moment, he expected her to push back.

He almost craved her argument about being coerced.

But she didn’t.

She stood there and met his gaze head-on.

Something about the sight of her made his control slip just a little.

He stepped closer, closing the gap between them.

Her breath hitched, and her lips parted slightly as she looked up at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

“Then prove it,” he murmured, his voice rough with challenge.

When she looked at him in confusion, he said tersely, “Kiss me.”

He expected her to back down.

He expected her to stammer out an excuse so he could mock her for backing out so soon.

Anything but what she actually did.

Annabelle moved toward him, her steps hesitant but determined.

She tilted her head up and her lips brushed his in a tentative, featherlight kiss.

The touch was electric, and it sent a jolt of heat through his veins.

But then she deepened the kiss with her fingers curling against his chest, and Dante’s world tilted.

He stood rigidly.

His fists clenched at his sides as he fought the primal urge to drag her to the bed and claim her completely.

The way she kissed him with growing passion threatened to unravel every shred of his control.

When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed and her breathing uneven.

Dante stared down at her, his own breath coming faster than he’d like to admit.

She had no idea what she was doing to him, how close he was to losing himself entirely.

She was one step step away from getting ravished on that ridiculously small bed, yet she didn't know it.

“Get your things,” he said abruptly, stepping away from her tempting body.

Annabelle blinked, confusion flickering across her face. “What?”

“We’re leaving,” Dante said, his voice firm. “Now.”

He turned on his heel and strode toward the door, refusing to let her see how much she’d affected him.

Because if she did.

If she realised just how deeply she’d gotten under his skin?

Dante wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from proving exactly how much she belonged to him.