C73 Not Anymore

Annabelle was already rethinking her decision to accept Dante's challenge within the first hour.

Sweat trickled down her brow as she adjusted her stance, and her green eyes blazed with defiance.

Dante circled her like a predator, his dark gaze sharp and calculating.

His training shirt clung to his muscular chest, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal forearms corded with strength.

He moved with a fluidity that made her feel like prey, and he wasn’t pulling his punches.

Not with his move.

Nor with his words.

She didn’t want to acknowledge that he hadn’t actually hurt her.

He had even made his men bring in extra padded foam mats to cover the entire floor before they started.

But the arrogant man didn’t miss any chance to show her the many ways he could knock her down.

“Still think you’re ready for Stoneraine?” he asked his voice calm but edged with a challenge.

Annabelle gritted her teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

She tightened her ponytail, her hair swinging behind her as she squared her shoulders. “Let’s go again.”

Dante smirked. “Your funeral.”

The more he tried to knock her down, the more determined Annabelle became to prove she could hold her own.

She’d worked hard over the past weeks.

Angelo’s rigorous training sessions had taught her how to defend herself.

And she wasn’t about to let Dante’s overbearing arrogance undo all her progress.

But Dante was relentless.

His movements were calculated, and his strikes were damn precise.

Every time she thought she had him, he would slip past her guard with ease.

Worse, he didn’t just use his skill against her.

He also used himself.

The lingering brushes of his hand.

The heated glances.

The sly comments made her cheeks flame.

All of it left her mind a tangled mess.

“You’re distracted,” he said, dodging one of her kicks with infuriating ease. “Thinking about me, aren’t you?”

She growled and swung a punch aimed squarely at his smug face.

He caught her wrist midair, holding it firmly while his dark eyes gleamed with amusement.

“Careful, cara mia,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “You might hurt yourself.”

“Maybe I’ll hurt you instead,” she shot back, trying to wrench her arm free.

“You could try,” he said, his lips curling into a devilish smirk.

Then, just to infuriate her further, he released her with a flick of his wrist and stepped back, giving her a mocking bow. “Impressive effort, though.”

Annabelle felt her blood boil.

He wasn’t taking her seriously, and that only made her more determined.

Shaking off her frustration, she decided to turn his tactics on him.

He was distracting her just by breathing the same air as her.

He seemed to know it too, while it seemed like her nearness had no impact on him.

If he was going to play with her, she could play too.

“You’re all talk,” she said, straightening her back and letting her lips curve into what she hoped was a flirtatious smile.

She batted her lashes at him. “Maybe you’re the one who’s distracted.”

Dante arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, you’re trying to flirt now?” he asked, his tone dripping with mockery. “Adorable.”

Annabelle felt her face heat with embarrassment.

She turned her focus back to the fight, deciding that seduction wasn’t her strong suit.

Instead, she channelled her anger and frustration into her strikes.

She ducked, weaved, and aimed a sharp kick at his shin, satisfied when he staggered back a step.

“Not bad,” Dante admitted, his smirk softening into something almost approving. “But not enough.”

“You changed the rules,” she snapped, sidestepping his next strike. “When you made the promise, you didn’t say I had to win against you.”

Dante shrugged, effortlessly dodging her attacks. “I make the rules, Annabelle. If I say you’re not ready for Stoneraine, that’s final.”

Anger flared in her chest, hot and consuming. “You’re unbelievable,” she spat, throwing every ounce of strength into her punches and kicks.

Her determination drove her, even as her body began to protest.

She couldn’t let him win.

He would make her break her promise to Cathy.

And she would be damned if she let that happen.

But her resolve wavered when she felt a sharp pain shoot up her ankle after a misstep.

She stumbled and quickly bit back a cry of pain.

But he noticed immediately.

His expression shifted from smug to concerned as he stepped toward her.

“Annabelle…”

“I’m fine!” she snapped, holding up a hand to stop him.

She leaned on her uninjured leg, her pride refusing to let her show weakness. “I can keep going.”

Dante’s jaw tightened. “You’re hurt.”

“I said I’m fine,” she insisted, her voice trembling with both pain and anger.

She straightened, ignoring the throbbing in her ankle. “I’ll prove to you that I’m not weak. Not just to you but to…everyone. I’ll prove that no one can one-up me again.”

Before she could take another step, Dante was suddenly in front of her.

In one swift motion, he scooped her up into his arms, ignoring her protests as she beat her fists against his chest.

“Put me down!” she yelled, her voice high with frustration.

“You’re done for today,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “If you don’t heal properly, you can say goodbye to Stoneraine.”

Her struggles grew more frantic. “I hate you!”

“Good,” Dante said coolly, his dark eyes flicking down to meet hers. “Hate me all you want, but you’re not leaving this house in pieces.”

He carried her effortlessly toward the exit, his powerful strides unyielding.

Annabelle glared up at him, her anger simmering just beneath the surface.

She hated the way he always took control.

The way he made her feel powerless.

And yet, there was a part of her that couldn’t deny the way her heart raced when he held her like that.

“I don’t want to go to your room,” she said when she saw where he was going.

She threatened to hop down and run all the way outside if she had to.

To her surprise, he changed his direction and went towards her room.

She couldn’t believe he actually did as she said, and she was almost giddy with joy as he entered the bedroom.

He set her on the bed with infuriating gentleness, and she turned her face away immediately.

She was beginning to uncomfortably realise that they were alone in her bedroom when the doctor finally arrived.

She nearly leapt up with relief, but Dante gave her a sharp look.

“Stay put,” he ordered. “Don’t make me tie you down.”

Annabelle glared at him, her emerald eyes blazing with defiance. “Get out,” she snapped.

Dante leaned in close, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Careful, Annabelle. You’re tempting me.”

With that, he ordered the doctor to make sure she didn’t get on her feet a moment earlier.

Then he turned and left, leaving her seething with anger and confusion.

She clenched her fists, watching his broad back disappear through the doorway.

She didn’t know whether she wanted to scream, cry, or both.

One thing was certain though.

Dante Cazador was the most infuriating man she had ever met.

But he was not going to control her like he did his men.

Not anymore.