C42 Do It Right

Annabelle hadn’t seen Dante in almost a week.

She told herself it was a blessing. She was better off without his cruel words and that relentless gaze of his that seemed to strip her bare. She told herself she didn’t care.

Her time and energy were occupied by something far more important anyway.

Going out of her mind with worries about her sister.

Cathy was still missing. That worry alone was enough to drive her insane.

The thought of Tad finding and hurting her kept Annabelle’s chest in a constant state of tightness.

It was hard to breathe and think, but she didn’t have the luxury of breaking down.

“Maybe I should call Mom. She might tell me without letting Tad know that I had called, right?” she wondered one day, even as she knew the answer to that question.

Her mom had never been able to hide anything from Tad.

Still, she couldn’t ignore the strange absence of Dante. He hadn’t appeared to loom over her, bark orders, or even glance her way with that mix of irritation and something she couldn’t name. It was like he’d become a ghost in his own house. She had seen his rigid back going out the door a while ago, but that had been that.

But while Dante had disappeared, Angelo had become ever-present.

At first, he was subtle. She’d catch him leaning against a tree when she went out into the garden, or sitting near the kitchen door when she passed by.

Always at a distance, always watching.

It should have unnerved her, but it didn’t. She just knew it wasn't a mere coincidence.

She didn’t believe in constant coincidences.

None of these men did anything without a reason.

Two days into his shadowing, he’d approached her directly.

She’d been sitting on the stone bench in the garden, twisting her hands in her lap, her thoughts running wild with worst-case scenarios about Cathy.

She was just wondering about how it might not be so bad to go back to face Tad’s wrath if that would bring her sister back to her when she heard:

“We’re still working on finding her,”

Annabelle had whipped her head around, startled. “What?”

“Your sister,” Angelo clarified, as if reading her mind. “We’re doing everything we can,” he assured her in a calm, steady voice.

Her throat tightened. She hadn’t asked him for updates, but it was like he’d known she was one step away from trying to sneak out to call her mother.

“Do you know where she is?” Her voice trembled despite her best effort to sound calm.

He shook his head, his expression softening. “Not yet. But we will.”

The words shouldn’t have comforted her, but they did.

“You… you saved me that night,” she said after a pause, her voice quieter now. “Thank you.”

Angelo shrugged like it was no big deal. “I did what needed to be done.”

“Well, I’m still grateful,” she insisted. “And I want updates. Every day.”

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but he nodded. “Fine. Every day.”

From that point, Angelo seemed to be more active in her life.

He wasn’t just watching anymore, he was talking to her. He’d started with small talk about her recovery.

But within days, he was showing her self-defence videos and making suggestions about her recovery.

“You need to learn to protect yourself,” he said one afternoon while setting up the TV in the sitting room.

Annabelle raised an eyebrow. “What good would that do against someone like him?”

Angelo smirked. “His name is Dante, you know. And you don’t need to protect yourself against him. He wouldn’t hurt you.”

When Annabelle scoffed in disbelief, he merely shook his head and said, “Let’s start small.”

As the days passed, his lessons grew more insistent.

He talked her through techniques while she healed, even promising to start real training once she was ready.

Annabelle agreed, though her mind was already spinning with plans to leave once she could get them to relax their guard.

The day finally came when Angelo deemed her strong enough to start.

He set up a makeshift training area in one of the mansion’s larger rooms, rolling out thick mats and propping punching bags against the walls.

Annabelle stood in the centre, wearing leggings and a loose T-shirt, her arms crossed as she watched Angelo adjust the straps on a pair of boxing gloves.

“So, what’s first?” she asked, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

Angelo tossed the gloves at her. “Put these on.”

She caught them awkwardly and frowned. “Do I need these?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “First lesson: learning to fall without breaking anything.”

Annabelle blinked. “Fall?”

Angelo nodded, his expression serious. “Everyone falls. The trick is knowing how to do it without hurting yourself.”

She groaned but didn’t argue, letting him guide her through the motions.

His instructions were patient, and despite her initial resistance, she found herself paying attention.

"He isn’t bad at this," she thought grudgingly.

“Good,” he said after her third attempt at a roll. “Now try it faster.”

Annabelle was mid-roll when the door opened, and the air in the room shifted.

She froze, her heart lurching as she turned to see Dante standing in the doorway.

He leaned casually against the frame, but his dark eyes weren’t casual at all. They burned as they took in the scene before him, lingering on the way Angelo held her arm to help her balance.

“What’s going on here?” Dante asked, his voice low and clipped.

Angelo straightened, his hand dropping from Annabelle’s arm. “She’s learning self-defence.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s how you’re teaching her?”

“Yes, boss” Angelo replied evenly even as he dropped Annabelle’s hand and stepped back.

Dante’s gaze shifted to Annabelle, and she felt the full weight of it.

Like a spotlight, she couldn’t escape. “Is she healed enough?” he asked tersely.

Yes, boss. Doc said she…”

“She is here, and she can respond for herself,” Annabelle snapped.

She was tired of their arrogance in discussing her as if she was not in the room.

Of course, she pinned all her anger on Dante.

Angelo had been agreeable before he came around after all.

Dante’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Yes, I can see that,” he said with his eyes on her heaving chest.

“What does he mean by that?” Annabelle wondered uneasily.

She was suddenly self-conscious, but she didn’t want to show it, so she raced her head and gave him a challenging glare.

Dante took a step forward with a sudden intense look in his eyes.

Annabelle refused to turn and run as her legs were bidding her to.

But then, he stopped suddenly. The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on as he gave her that lingering look.

Finally, Dante turned to Angelo.

“If you’re going to teach her,” he said coldly, “Do it right. And don’t touch her like that again.”

He shook his head and turned away.

Then he turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Annabelle let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She turned to Angelo, who gave her a little shrug.

“Ready to keep going?” he asked.

Annabelle nodded, her jaw set. “Yeah. Let’s keep going.”