C41 Not Again

Dante’s expression was impenetrable as he watched Antonia's reaction to his sudden arrival.

Though Annabelle looked flustered, Antonia simply smiled as she turned to him.

“Hey, Tay. Didn’t see you there,” she said, a playful lilt to her tone as she tilted her head. “Are you sneaking up on ladies now? That’s not very nice of you, is it?”

Dante’s gaze didn’t soften, and his voice was as firm as steel. “I asked you a question.”

For a moment, she gazed at him innocently.

Then she glanced at Annabelle with a look of faint curiosity, as if Dante’s words had only just clicked for her. “Oh! I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I was about to ask Annabelle what she meant, too.”

She turned to Annabelle, her smile still in place, but the intent in her gaze was unmistakable. “Annabelle, dear, what did you mean? What money?”

Annabelle swallowed, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. She couldn’t tell if Antonia was genuinely covering for her or simply caught off guard. Wary, she said, “I mean… I saw some money in the clothes I got from your car.”

Dante’s expression darkened, his stance shifting subtly as his patience thinned. His voice lowered to a menacing chill. “So you had clothes in your car… and she happened to find money after she supposedly pulled a gun on you, hit you, and stole your keys?”

Annabelle struggled to keep her face blank, hoping Antonia would have an answer that would satisfy him.

Antonia didn’t miss a beat as she said, “Well, I always carry extra clothes in the car, Tay. You know how it is,” she replied with a shrug. “I never know when I might need a quick change for an event. I’d been at that dog adoption event I sponsored earlier, fully dressed down in those casuals, so I could play with the dogs, you know. But I knew I could be late for dinner, so I packed my dress to change on my way back.”

Dante’s gaze didn’t waver. His silence spoke volumes.

Antonia continued, “When I saw that there was enough time, I thought of coming to get you, only to learn that you left earlier.” She lowered her head slightly, casting an apologetic glance his way. “I admit, I was a little curious about Annabelle,” she continued, her tone sheepish. “So, I thought I might even invite her to dinner with us. You know my father always loved company.”

Dante’s expression turned frigid. “You thought you’d invite my… houseguest to dinner without my permission?” His words were as sharp as broken glass, slicing through the tension between them.

Antonia bit her lip with a sheepish look.

Before she could respond, Dante said, “I suppose that’s also why you decided to take her out for a walk, despite knowing she’s recovering. She could catch a cold, Antonia. What the fuck?”

Antonia looked troubled, but Annabelle interrupted, unable to stand her strained expression. “I’m hardly a houseguest,” she muttered, her tone laced with bitterness. “I was practically kidnapped and kept here. And now I’m supposed to fall in line with whatever you decide, just because you do what you want?”

Antonia’s gaze flickered with something Annabelle couldn’t quite read.

Then her attention was commanded as Dante’s intense gaze met her fiery one.

He looked like he had a thousand things to say before ordering to have her killed.

Annabelle was glad he didn’t say any of them though, because something in his look made a strange shiver race through her body that she was sure she wouldn’t have been able to answer him back instantly.

Dante looked back at Antonia, a silent command in his eyes. “When are you leaving?”

Anger overrode Annabelle’s nervousness, and she burst out, “Who do you think you are to order everyone around like this?”

He turned his gaze on her, a smouldering edge in his eyes, before Antonia interjected quickly, her voice small. “I’m not here to cause trouble, Tay. If I’m making things difficult, I’ll leave. My bruises are faded anyway."

On cue, Annabelle quickly said apologetically, "I am sorry for hitting you."

"It's fine. You already apologised." Antonia said with a benevolent smile.

Then she cast a longing look at Annabelle. “I’ll visit again soon if that’s all right…?”

Annabelle’s heart sank. She didn’t want to see Antonia go.

Not when she was the only person who’d shown her kindness here. She blurted out, “I wish I could go with you and get away from…”

The look Dante gave her could have shattered glass. She’d been about to say “the murderer,” and he knew it. He didn’t need her to finish the sentence to understand what she thought of him.

Antonia patted her shoulder softly as if she were genuinely sad to leave. “Goodbye, Annabelle,” she said and glanced at Dante to see if he’d object.

Dante’s lips tightened, but he let her go without another word.

Once Antonia was out of sight, Dante’s presence seemed to fill the space, as though her departure had made him expand, and his intense focus on Annabelle was nearly suffocating. She tried to wheel herself away from him, but he stepped directly into her path.

“Stop being stubborn, Annabelle,” he said flatly, as if her resistance was nothing more than a minor annoyance to him.

Even though fear clawed at her insides, she forced herself to meet his gaze, speaking with a firmness she didn’t feel. “I want nothing to do with you.”

His jaw clenched, but his response was unwavering. “You’ll have everything to do with me. You soon see things my way.”

She scoffed, looking away from him, but he continued, his voice almost mocking. “You want to find your sister, don’t you? Then you need to listen to me.”

Rebellion flared in her eyes as she said, "I don't need to listen to you. I need to go find my sister."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping as he said, “From what happened to you last time, you’ll be dead before you get anywhere near her.”

A flash of anguish crossed her face, and he added, “I’ll find your sister, Annabelle. No matter how long it takes. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Her gaze softened, but only for a second.

“I want to go home,” she said in a last, desperate attempt, the word catching in her throat.

Dante’s lip curled in a cold smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Home?” he echoed, and his voice dripped with disdain. “I see you're so eager to go back to get fucked by your stepfather a…”

He stopped talking when he saw her reaction, cursing himself for his action.

Annabelle’s face went white, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She tried to disguise the raw pain that surfaced, but he’d already seen it. And it cut him more than he’d anticipated.

She looked so fragile, so utterly alone at that moment like the weight of everything she’d endured was about to crush her.

He reached for her without thinking. Only for her to jerk back, wheeling herself further away from him, eyes blazing with distrust and fear.

Dante stilled, his outstretched hand falling slowly to his side as a surge of regret twisted in his chest. He couldn’t meet the devastation on her face any longer, and with a signal, he summoned Judith to take her back inside.

As she was wheeled away, his jaw tightened, a silent vow solidifying within him.

He’d make her stand tall again and fierce as she was meant to.

No one would make her feel small again.

Not her stepfather, not him, not anyone.