C79 Tough Luck, Baby

Dante had no idea why Annabelle affected him the way she did.

She sat beside him with her gaze fixed resolutely on the passing scenery outside the car window.

Her silence was a dagger, sharp and unrelenting, and it bothered him far more than he wanted to admit.

“What kind of man gets a cold shoulder just because he told the truth?” he thought bitterly.

He’d told her he loved her.

Simple.

Honest.

Yet here she was, acting as if he’d declared a death sentence.

And her accusation…calling him a goddamned liar…gnawed at him.

He had no idea where it came from or why it stung so much.

He’d asked Angelo if something had happened before.

Maybe some misunderstanding that might have set her off, but Angelo had only shrugged.

His consigleiere was just as confused as Dante.

And that left Dante with a maddening conclusion.

Annabelle just hated him.

“She hated me so much, she can’t even stand the idea of me loving her.”

It fucking infuriated him.

He was Dante Cazador, the most powerful man in Acadia.

Women threw themselves at his feet for less than a glance.

But Annabelle... she shrank away from him like he was some sort of disease.

Fuck that.

His mind wandered to the night before, a bittersweet replay of his own foolishness.

He’d crept into her room like a lovesick idiot, needing to see her even though he knew he shouldn’t.

Cathy had kicked off her blanket in her sleep, and he’d tucked her back in before turning his attention to Annabelle.

She held her sister close even in sleep, her arms wrapped protectively around the little girl.

For a moment, he had allowed himself to imagine what it would feel like to have her hold him like that.

Imagined what it would be like to be the centre of her world.

“Would you ever think of me like this?” he had muttered to her sleeping form, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

His heart ached when he saw that she had cried.

It fucking hurt when he was more than sure that it was because of him.

“Why would my love set you off?” he had whispered to her as his eeys got drawn to her delicious lips.

But then she stirred, and he had scrambled back.

He had to hid like a fucking coward behind the curtain as her breathing changed.

He saw her and watched her eyes dart around.

His heart had clenched when her hand moved instinctively toward the gun in her nightstand.

She had learnt to always be ready to defend herself.

To always be on edge.

It made him want to destroy every last person who had ever hurt her.

When she settled back into sleep, Dante had slipped out of the room, furious with himself.

He couldn’t protect her if he scared her.

And yet, here he was now, sitting beside her in the car, and the distance between them felt as wide as a gulf.

The silence became unbearable. “This is ridiculous,” he snapped out loud.

Annabelle turned her head sharply, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s ridiculous?”

The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “Sir, is there something you need?”

“Just drive,” Dante barked, his irritation spilling over.

Annabelle’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You don’t have to be rude to him just because you’re acting like a grouch.”

Dante’s temper flared. “And ignoring people isn’t considered rude in your dictionary?”

Her green eyes narrowed. “Is deceiving people not considered rude in yours?”

That stopped him cold. “Deceiving you? When have I ever…”

“Forget it,” she interrupted with a sigh, her voice suddenly weary. “I just want to go home.”

The word home struck something deep inside him.

Did she mean back to his place after her visit to Stoneraine?

She had called his house her home.

For a fleeting moment, hope stirred in his chest, but her expression snuffed it out.

She looked defeated, like being anywhere near him drained her.

Anger bubbled up, hot and volatile. “Your home is with me now,” he said firmly. “I’m only taking you to Stoneraine because you won’t stop nagging about it.”

Her calm reply infuriated him. “I’m not your hostage, Dante. You don’t get to keep me like a possession.”

He leaned closer, his voice a low growl. “You’re bound to me, Annabelle. You’re my woman. And I swear, I’ll kill any man who so much as looks at you with desire.”

Her laugh was harsh and humorles as he saw her hand wrapped around the door handle. “You’re nothing but a bully who thinks the world should bow to you. You can’t force people to love you, Dante.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t want the world’s love,” he retorted. “I want yours. And if loving you disgusts you so much, then tough luck, baby. You’re going to have to deal with it because I’m not stopping until you realise you belong to me. Mind, body, and soul.”

Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling in sync with his.

The air between them was electric, charged with tension that hovered dangerously close to breaking point.

A charged heated moment passed between them as they both breathed harshly with the passion that gripped them.

The look in her eyes was calling to every primal need in him and Dante knew he couldn’t stop himself.

She would probably hate him later but he just had to have her now.

He reached forward to grab her.

Then it happened.

The car door, which she had her hand on, jerked open.

Dante’s blood chilled as he saw her tip outward.

He yelled at the driver to stop as he lunged for her.

“Stop the car!” Dante roared at the driver as he lunged forward, his heart pounding in his chest. The world seemed to slow as he reached for her, the only thought in his mind a desperate plea.

Don’t let her fall.