C120 Like A Betrayal

Dante sat at the breakfast table, his jaw clenched so tightly that he was sure the muscle would snap.

The steaming coffee in front of him remained untouched, the aroma doing little to soothe the storm raging inside him.

Across the table, Natasha was in full performance mode, her laughter a sharp and grating sound as she effortlessly filled the space with her chatter.

Her plan had seemed so simple in theory.

Poke at Annabelle.

Prod her just enough to see how she reacted.

Maybe even force her to confront her feelings.

But sitting here now, watching the subtle tremble in Annabelle’s hand as she picked up her fork, he cursed himself for going along with it.

The whole setup felt wrong.

It was like he was orchestrating his own downfall.

And he didn’t like how puffy her face looked too.

What the fuck had she been doing before coming downstairs?

The sound of Annabelle’s approaching footsteps had been his undoing earlier.

The moment he heard her, Natasha had sprung into action, waving off his hesitation with a confident grin.

He hadn’t even had time to argue before she’d launched her opening salvo.

“Come join us!” Natasha had called brightly, like a gracious hostess welcoming a new guest to her domain.

Dante had stiffened the moment Annabelle appeared in the doorway.

Her face was a canvas of emotions before she schooled it into an almost passable mask of indifference.

Almost.

God, she’d be terrible at poker.

She wore her emotions like a damn neon sign, and it wrecked him.

Every flicker of pain that crossed her face hit him like a punch to the gut.

He wanted to reach out, pull her into his arms, and tell her…

What?

That this was all a stupid game?

That he’d been wrong to let Natasha goad her?

But no.

He sat there, stone-faced and pretending not to notice her inner turmoil.

He let Natasha weave her web, every word dripping with faux sincerity.

“You must be Annabelle,” Natasha had said, smiling so brightly it could have blinded lesser men. “Dante told me about his houseguest.”

Houseguest.

The word alone had made him wince internally.

He’d said nothing about it to Natasha.

She’d come up with that term on her own.

But it still felt like a betrayal.

The look on Annabelle’s face only deepened his guilt, even as she forced a polite smile.

Natasha, undeterred, had gone on, filling Annabelle’s plate with waffles and commenting on Dante’s “insatiable appetite.”

Each word was a dagger.

And Annabelle took every one of them with quiet dignity, though the slight tremor in her hand gave her away.

Dante’s coffee remained untouched as he stared at her, his stomach twisting.

She tried to catch his gaze a few times, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

He didn’t trust himself to keep up the façade.

And then she’d asked the question.

“Is Dante your boyfriend?”

The air had gone still.

The tension seemed thick enough to cut with a knife.

Natasha, ever the opportunist, had laughed it off. “What are we, ten?” she’d said, waving a dismissive hand. “Boyfriend and girlfriend? Pfft, that’s so childish. We’re so much more than labels.”

Then she had called him Dante Dear?

Really? That was the best she could come up with.

Dante had wanted to strangle her.

Or himself.

Possibly both.

Then Annabelle had scraped her chair back and stood, her face pale but composed. “Excuse me,” she’d said quietly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her.

Natasha had pouted. “Oh no, don’t go! I was hoping we could spend more time together.”

But Annabelle had already turned and walked out, her back rigid and her steps hurried.

The silence she left behind was deafening.

Dante stared at the empty doorway with his chest tight.

He should have stopped her.

Hell, he should have followed her.

But he couldn’t move.

His own failure to act weighed him down like a lead.

He caught a movement to his left and he looked sharply at Natasha

She was just lowering her phone after taking a picture of him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled, his voice sharper than he intended.

Natasha grinned, lowering her phone. “Oh, relax, boss. It’s just for me. Whenever I feel like quaking in fear from your ruthlessness, I’ll look at this picture and remind myself that you’re human after all.”

“You’ve never quaked in your damn life,” he shot back, his glare hard enough to kill a lesser person.

She laughed, tapping at her phone with exaggerated theatrics. “True. But I do a lot of quaking inwardly. You just don’t see it.”

“Delete the picture.”

“Sure, sure,” she said, sighing as she pressed a button. “But to be honest? I don’t need a picture to remember this moment. It’s burned into my brain for eternity.”

Dante didn’t believe for a second that she’d actually deleted it, but he let it go.

He had bigger problems, like the hollow ache in his chest left by Annabelle’s absence.

And he had a question for Natasha.

She beat him to it before he could ask.

“You know, you and Annabelle are terrible at this,” she said casually, leaning back in her chair.

“Both of you are so head over heels in love it’s painful to watch. You two are either going to end up killing each other or realise it sooner and live happily ever after. There’s no in-between.”

He stiffened at her words.

If she was right about his part, did that mean…

He glared at her. “When the fuck did I ever say anything about love?”

She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face. And hers, by the way.”

“Careful, Natasha,” he warned, his voice low and menacing. “You’re getting too comfortable.”

She waved him off. “Relax, boss. My work here is done. The star-crossed lovers are in line, and the intercessor has been dismissed.”

She stuffed the last bite of waffle into her mouth, chewing with infuriating calmness before grinning at him.

“I like her, by the way,” she said, wiping her fingers on a napkin. “And just so you know, once in a while when I get bored, I do fantasise about fucking you even though I don’t mix business and pleasure. But now? Not even in my dreams. Annabelle scares me more than you do.”

She added that last part with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

She's damn full of shit!

He narrowed his eyes. “When you get bored?”

She laughed, blowing him a kiss as she stood. “Consider giving me a raise for my stellar performance this morning.”

And with that, she sauntered out of the room, blowing her ridiculous kiss at his men standing guard.

The door shut behind her, leaving Dante alone with his thoughts.

He allowed himself a brief, reluctant smile before it faded completely as his gaze drifted toward the staircase where Annabelle had disappeared.