C63 Lose The Attitude

Confusion gripped Annabelle like an iron vise as her eyes locked onto Dante's.

He looked impatient as he listened to Antonia talk.

All the while, his eyes were on Annabelle.

Realisation dawned slowly, mingling with a sharp pang of betrayal that twisted in her chest.

“He wouldn’t let me go just because I looked like his dead wife.”

The thought hit her like a blow to the gut, stealing her breath.

It was cruel.

It was unfair.

And worse, it made perfect sense.

She could barely swallow past the lump that had formed in her throat. Pain swelled inside her, bitter and inexplicable.

She thought back to every glance, every intense, possessive stare he had levelled at her, and now it all seemed so hollow.

He hadn’t been looking at her. He had been seeing someone else entirely.

Her hands curled into trembling fists at her sides as shame mingled with anger.

How foolish she had been to think…even for a moment…that he might have wanted her.

That his actions, his presence, and his touch might have stemmed from genuine interest.

No.

He was using her.

He didn’t care about the life she had been forced to leave behind, the fragile world she was trying so hard to piece together.

He saw her as a convenient stand-in for a ghost he hadn’t let go of.

A cold, manipulative bastard who thought he could mould the world and the people in it into whatever shape he desired.

Her teeth clenched, and her nails dug into her palms as a darker thought wormed its way into her mind. “Had he done it on purpose?” she thought with a chill running through her.

Had he seen her walking in the dark and decided she would be the perfect pawn in his twisted game?

She pictured his car headlights illuminating her form, his foot pressing harder on the gas as the idea solidified in his head.

She felt sick.

“How perfect for him, she thought bitterly. “A damsel in distress, desperate and vulnerable enough to fall right into his plans.”

Her thoughts spiralled further, dragging her into the dark pit of her frustrations.

How had her life become this?

How had she ended up in a place where she needed permission for anything from a man who had no right to dictate her life?

She despised him.

At that moment, she despised everything.

Her mother, for turning a blind eye to the monster she had married.

Tad, for making her existence a living hell.

Her father, for being too much of a coward to stay and fight for them.

The world, for twisting her life into this unbearable mess.

But Cathy’s face flashed in her mind, grounding her.

The hopeful look in her sister’s eyes when she asked to see their mother.

Her sister was waiting for her answer. Depending on her.

That thought firmed her resolve. Annabelle straightened her spine and locked her emotions down tight. If Dante saw her as nothing more than a substitute, then fine.

She would use that. He owed her, and she intended to collect.

She marched toward him just as Antonia was leaving.

Her steps were steady and deliberate as Antonia called out a farewell.

Annabelle forced a smile and nodded at her, though her skin prickled under Dante’s piercing gaze.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice surprising even given the storm raging inside her.

“Inside,” he replied curtly, already turning toward the house.

She bit back a retort, forcing herself to follow him in silence.

She had expected him to lead her to his office, but when he turned toward the stairs and began climbing, her stomach twisted with unease.

He was heading to his suite.

She hesitated at the base of the stairs, doubt creeping in.

“Do I want to do this?” She thought with unease.

But Cathy’s face floated to the forefront of her mind again, and she squared her shoulders.

There was no room for hesitation.

She followed him into the dimly lit room, his cedarwood scent hitting her senses like a wall.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the tension in the air thickened, making it hard to breathe.

Dante moved without warning, grabbing her arm and pressing her back against the door.

“Dante…” she started, but the words died as his eyes locked onto hers.

The heat of his touch burned her skin as his fingers tilted her chin upward, sending a tingling sensation down her spine.

His stormy eyes lingered on her lips, tracing them with an intensity that made her heart stutter.

The way he looked at her like she was something fragile and breakable, sent conflicting waves of fear and something far more dangerous through her.

She couldn’t hold his gaze.

So she closed her eyes as the heat of his stare became too much to bear.

She felt his breath on her face, warm and steady, and her entire body hummed with tension.

Then he spoke; his voice a rough, gruff command that shattered the spell.

“Lose the attitude.”

Her eyes snapped open, her confusion giving way to a flare of anger. Lose the attitude?

Just as suddenly as he had grabbed her, his hand dropped.

Then he turned away, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

As if nothing had just happened.

Her chest heaved as she stared at him in disbelief.

“What attitude?” she fumed silently. “He’s the one with the stinking, manipulative attitude!”

She watched, her fury building, as he tugged his shirt over his head, revealing the broad, muscular expanse of his back.

The scars and tattoos scattered across his skin were a stark reminder of who and what he was.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.

“Taking a shower,” he said flatly, his tone dismissive.

Annabelle’s jaw dropped.

“I told you I needed to talk to you!” she snapped, her fists clenching.

“Then talk,” he replied, kicking off his shoes. “But I’m taking a shower and I do not care to look at your scowling face after having such a long night.”

The anger surged in her chest like a tidal wave, threatening to spill over.

She didn’t need to be reminded that he had spent all night outside doing God knows what.

Annabelle wanted to say she was not scowling, but then she caught her face in the mirror nearby.

She turned around to quickly say what she had to say but froze when she realised that he had his trousers off.

Her gaze flicked downward before she could stop herself, catching a glimpse of his muscular thighs and the outline of his… Oh, God.

The sight of his magnificent cock through his boxer made her turn around so sharply that she almost smacked her head against the door.

“Coward,” he muttered, amusement lacing his tone.

Her head whipped back around, her face flaming. “I am not a coward!”

His smirk widened, his amusement only fueling her fury. “Then stop acting like one.”

“I’m here because I need your help,” she blurted out, her anger bubbling over.

His smirk faded, his expression hardening in an instant. “What kind of help?”

Her voice wavered despite her best efforts. “Cathy wants to see our mother. I think it’s what she needs to feel normal again. But I need your help to make sure Tad stays away.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his eyes bored into hers, sharp and calculating.

“You want to walk back into your mess,” he said finally, his tone low and dangerous.

Her fists clenched. “She’s my sister. I’m trying to make her happy again.”

“You’re being foolish,” he said bluntly, his gaze unwavering. “If you want to make her happy, take her to Disneyland.”

Her anger flared, hot and immediate. “If you’re not going to help, just say so!” she snapped, turning toward the door. “I will just ask…”

Before she could take another step, he was behind her, moving so fast she barely registered it.

She found it hard to breathe as he pressed her against the door.

He wrapped his hand in her hair and tilted her head back to expose the curve of her neck.

Annabelle’s breath came in short, sharp gasps as she felt the hard press of his body against hers, his solid chest pinning her firmly.

“If you dare ask another man for help,” he growled, his voice rough and dangerous, “I’ll kill him. And I’ll make you watch.”

Her heart pounded wildly, fear and something darker swirling inside her. “Will you help me?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

She stiffened as she felt the hot, raspy brush of his tongue against the shell of her ear, and she shivered uncontrollably. “It’s your choice if you want to ruin your peace,” he murmured. “I’ll do what needs to be done... but you won’t have a say in how I do it.”

Before she could respond, he added, his voice dripping with menace, “And you’ll pay for this favour, Annabelle. In full. When I come to collect, there will be no saying no.”

The weight of his words settled heavily on her.

That, with the way he called her name, left her speechless.

Just as abruptly as he had pinned her, he stepped back, his body leaving a charged void where his heat had pressed against her.

Annabelle barely had time to process what had happened when he spoke again, his voice a dark rumble. “Instead of clinging to my door, you’re welcome to join me.”

She turned instinctively, her eyes catching his naked back as he strode toward the bathroom.

His broad shoulders tapered to a trim waist, and she couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting lower to the powerful muscles of his thighs and the glimpse of his impressive cock in the mirror.

Her face burned as she bolted from the room, her heart hammering in her chest.