C111 Tit For Tat

Dante stepped into the room without bothering to knock.

He didn’t need to.

This was his home, his domain, and more importantly, this was Annabelle.

She was his, even if she hadn’t yet come to terms with it.

The sight of her sitting on the bed, calmly flipping through a book with her legs tucked beneath her, should have eased the tension that had been coiling in his chest all day.

Instead, it only made it worse.

Just when he thought they had an understanding, she was defying him again.

The soft lamplight illuminated her skin, casting a warm glow over her features.

Her hair, loose and slightly mussed, spilled over her shoulders like a waterfall of dark silk.

She looked composed.

In fact, he could use the word serene.

And she damned well looked completely unbothered by his presence, whereas he had not been able to get her off his mind all day.

“You didn’t get my note?” he asked, his voice low, barely controlled.

She didn’t look up immediately.

She turned another page, her expression neutral, before finally raising her gaze to meet his. Those green eyes, always so guarded, held no trace of the warmth he saw there last night.

“I read it,” she said simply in a measured tone.

Dante waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t.

Instead, she returned her attention to the book, like he wasn’t even there.

“Then why aren’t you in my room?” His question came out harsher than intended, frustration lacing every word.

This time, she closed the book with deliberate slowness, setting it aside on the bedside table.

Her movements were unhurried, almost dismissive.

“I like where I am just fine,” she replied.

Her calm tone stoked the fire already burning inside him.

“Is that so?” Dante folded his arms across his chest, his dark eyes narrowing.

“Yes,” she said, tilting her chin slightly upward with the faintest trace of defiance in her posture. “Ours is an arrangement, Dante. I’ll be on hand whenever you want, but it wasn’t part of the original agreement that I would sleep in your room all the time. My time, when you don’t need my...services, is mine to do with as I want.”

Dante froze, her words slicing through him like a blade.

Services.

She had done it again.

She was reducing herself to nothing more than a transaction.

To a mere commodity.

It was infuriating, degrading, and most of all, painful.

“What did you just say?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

“You heard me,” Annabelle said evenly.

She leaned back slightly, her expression unchanging.

“I also wanted to ask…when will you enroll Cathy in school? I’ve been looking online for schools to enroll in myself. You don’t have to pay for my tuition. I’d be willing to work for you or if you would allow me to work elsewhere so I can pay for my own tuition.”

Dante’s fists clenched at his sides.

Every word out of her mouth stoked his anger.

Each one seemed carefully measured and calculated to keep him at arm’s length.

Her own tuition?

Working for him?

The idea was absurd.

She was supposed to be his.

Part of his world.

A vital part of his future.

Not some employee.

“Stop talking,” he snapped, the frustration in his voice barely masked.

Annabelle blinked but didn’t flinch.

Her calm façade remained firmly in place, and it only infuriated him more.

“Every word you’re saying is bullshit,” he said, his voice rising. “You’re sitting there talking about yourself like some cheap whore. Do you think that’s what you are to me?”

She didn’t answer, her silence like a slap to the face.

“I asked you a question,” Dante growled.

“I think,” she said slowly, deliberately, “that you want what you want, and I’m supposed to give it. That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

Dante’s chest tightened, a storm of emotions roiling inside him.

He didn’t know what he hated more.

Her words, or the calm, almost detached way she delivered them.

“I can’t believe this is the same woman I’ve been daydreaming about,” he said bitterly, his words laced with venom. “The woman I’ve been imagining a future with, a family with, and you’re sitting there talking about arrangements and agreements like a goddamn courtesan.”

Her composure didn’t waver, but he saw the faintest flicker of something in her eyes.

“I’ll remind you,” she said, her voice soft but steady, “That we had an arrangement. And I remember telling you not to say things you don’t mean to me. They won’t work on me, so you might as well stop trying.”

His temper snapped as he nodded briskly at her words.

“Then let me remind you of a rule then. :Since we are doing tit-for-tat, you don’t get to ask me for favours. Not for your sister, not for anyone unless you’ve earned them.”

Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t speak.

“And you haven’t earned them,” he continued, his voice dropping to an icy tone he rarely used. “Not yet. You want something from me? Fine. Strip.”

The word hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Her eyes widened slightly.

It was just for a moment, then it narrowed again.

She straightened her spine.

Her damned was clear in the set of her jaw and the glare in her eyes.

But she didn’t back down.

Her hands moved to the hem of her dress, and Dante’s breath hitched.

He hated himself for what he had said, for putting her in this position, but he couldn’t take it back now.

This night was not supposed to go this way, but she had pushed him with her silly talks.

He watched, his throat tightening, as she pulled the dress over her head and set it aside.

She reached behind her to unhook her bra with steady hands.

Then she let it fall away.

Finally, she slid her panties down her legs.

Then she stood before him, bare and vulnerable.

Dante swore beneath his breath as his gaze roamed over her.

He was mad at her, yet his body couldn’t resist her.

Her eyes couldn’t resist taking in every inch of her.

She was stunning, and the sight of her stirred something deep and primal within him.

But he also saw the tension in her shoulders and the slight trembling in her hands that she tried to hide.

He hated himself even more.

This wasn’t what he wanted.

Not like this.

Dante could barely feel himself moving until they both tumbled onto the bed.

Her face was flushed for a moment, but then she gave him that maddening, calm look again.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

“Yes,” she said, her tone defiant.

Dante’s hand shot out, wrapping around her throat.

He had no intention of hurting her.

He just wanted to hold her in place.

To ground himself against the storm of emotions threatening to consume him. He stared down at her, his eyes burning with a mix of anger, pain, and something he couldn’t name.

Then he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t kind.

It was brutal, punishing, and raw.

Her lips moved against his, meeting his intensity with her own.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as if to anchor herself.

For a moment, it seemed as if the world fell away, leaving only the two of them.

He was mad at her, yet it didn’t take long for him to be lost in the heat of fury and passion.

“Fuck this!” he thought as he pulled back from her.

He would not let her have her silly way of drawing a line between them.

He stared down at her, his chest heaving and his heart pounding.

“Damn you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

He got off the bed and walked out of the room without a backward glance.