MERCILESS

BILLIONAIRE’S
S AVA G E D E S I R E

Ava Selwyn
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 OBSESSED
BILLIONAIRES,
CHERISHED BRIDES
SERIES
Book Seven

Ava Selwyn
OceanofPDF.com
 Copyright © 2025 Ava Selwyn

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living
or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or
by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written
permission of the publisher.

ASIN ‫‏‬: ‎B0F2DZ7WRZ

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 To the one he let go.
To the fire he couldn’t put out.
This is for every man who thought she’d wait—
and every woman who made him regret it.

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 SYNOPSIS
He walked away on their wedding day. Now he’ll burn the world to get
her back.

"I’ll never marry you! Since you took a ring from another man, you can
marry him!"

Dante Kingsley never imagined his own jealousy would cost him
everything. One reckless mistake—one moment of blind rage— and he
shattered the woman who was his.

For months, Anya lived under his roof, enduring his stares that turned from
cold to possessive, from distant to scorching.

She was his. His woman. His possession.

But then, on their wedding day, he left her. Walked away without a glance.
Broke her heart like it meant nothing.

And now, Luca Stanson—a man no one dares to touch—is claiming her
instead.

"You are the girl I’ve been searching for over a decade. My first love."

Luca’s words cut like a knife, but the real agony comes when Anya walks
away, choosing a life where Dante no longer exists.

Regret is a slow poison. Watching her slip through his fingers is killing him.
She was his first. She will be his last.

And if she thinks she can escape him…

She’ll learn that Dante doesn’t chase. He takes.

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 CONTENTS

Title Page
Obsessed Billionaires, Cherished Brides Series
Copyright
Dedication
Synopsis
Chapter 1 The Kingsley Manor
Chapter 2 The New Secretary
Chapter 3 Pervert Ladies
Chapter 4 It’s soft, isn’t it?
Chapter 5 A Wife
Chapter 6 Janet Kingsley
Chapter 7 Heartless Little Thing
Chapter 8 Rejected Resignation
Chapter 9 A Necklace
Chapter 10 An Affair
Chapter 11 More, Please
Chapter 12 Danny Carter
Chapter 13 A Gift
Chapter 14 Just be mine?
Chapter 15 Marry Him
Chapter 16 Fired
Chapter 17 Eavesdropper
Chapter 18 Jealousy
Chapter 19 Animal
Chapter 20 The Third Wheel
Chapter 21 We’re over!
Chapter 22 Pay The Price
Chapter 23 I. HATE. YOU.
Chapter 24 Let’s Try Again
Chapter 25 Desperate
Chapter 26 Exclusive Rights
Epilogue
Possessive Billionaires, Precious Sweethearts : Exclusive First Look!
Bonus Chapter
Books In This Series
Become a VIP Reader!
Keep in touch with Ava Selwyn
Acknowledgement
About The Author

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 CHAPTER 1 THE
KINGSLEY MANOR
The wind stilled as a private jet came to a halt on the sprawling estate of
one of Manhattan’s most powerful billionaires.
From the jet, a tall, broad-shouldered man descended the stairs. His dark
hair, streaked with silver, was slicked back, revealing a face once handsome
but now hardened by time and grief. A harsh, black scar under his right eye
stood out like a permanent shadow, turning his once-charming features into
something cold and intimidating. He looked to be in his late fifties, but he
moved with the power and control of a man in his prime.
On either side of the jet’s path, bodyguards in black suits stood in perfect
formation, straight and silent as they parted for him.
“Mr. Carter,” they greeted in unison, their voices sharp with respect.
As Charles Carter made his way down the steps, a younger man approached
quickly, tall and composed, radiating a quiet confidence."
Luca Stanson — the son of Charles’ best friend — was a striking man in his
late twenties. With sharp cheekbones, intense brown eyes, and a jawline
that made magazine covers jealous, he carried the effortless charm of
someone born into wealth and power. His tailored navy suit clung to his
lean, athletic frame, and a platinum watch peeked out from under his cuff,
unmistakably expensive.
Though Luca had made a name for himself as one of New York’s youngest
and most eligible billionaires, there was a weight in his gaze, one he
carefully masked behind charm and professionalism.
“Uncle,” the younger man said with a slight smile.
Carter’s expression softened. “Luca.” He pulled the young man into a brief,
firm hug. “Any news yet?”
Luca nodded, his face lighting up. “Yes, Uncle Charles. We found Annie.”
For a second, Charles Carter, the man who once built empires and destroyed
rivals, looked as if the air had been knocked out of him. His usually steely
eyes shimmered with hope.
They walked side by side, their footsteps synchronized.
“She’s going by the name Anya now,” Luca continued. “We confirmed it
just before your jet landed.”
Charles’s eyes sharpened. “Where is she? Did you meet her?”
Luca shook his head. “Not yet. The intel came in just before your plane
landed. I thought we could go together.”
Charles drew in a deep breath, regaining his composure. “Where is she
now?”
“She’s living with the Fox family in Manhattan. They’re well known in
business circles.”
“Fox…” Charles muttered under his breath. His jaw clenched. “Let’s bring
my daughter back home.”
***
Meanwhile, at the Fox estate…
A suitcase hit the pavement with a loud thud, scattering clothes onto the
snowy street.
“Mom, please!” Anya cried, her voice cracked and desperate as she
stumbled after it, tears streaking down her cheeks.
Valentina Fox stood tall in the doorway, her flawless makeup untouched,
her straight dark hair flowing over her designer coat. But her expression
was twisted in rage and disgust. With a cold grip, she yanked Anya by the
arm and dragged her outside before shoving her down beside the suitcase.
“Get out. Now!” her voice was sharp, venomous, her breathing heavy. “I’ve
had enough of this. I raised some random bastard’s child for years?! If I had
known the truth back then, you would’ve never set foot in my house.”
Anya’s voice shook as she sobbed. “Mom… how can that be true? I’ve
lived here my whole life! I’m your daughter. Why are you doing this?”
Valentina pulled a folded document from her coat pocket and threw it at
Anya’s face.
“There’s your truth,” she spat. “I had the DNA tested. You’re not mine. The
only reason I mistook you for my daughter and brought you home was
because your face looked so much like hers back when she went missing at
that amusement park. You were around the same age—just two. Even your
goddamn name was almost the same. You kept babbling, ‘I’m Annie,’ and I
was so stupid! I thought you just couldn’t say ‘Anya’ properly. I made a
mistake.”
She turned to another girl standing quietly nearby—Zara—who bore a
striking resemblance to her. Her voice suddenly dropped into a softer,
emotional tone. “My daughter suffered all these years outside. But she
searched for us. She found us. And now, she’s back. She’s the only one I
care about now.”
Zara leaned into Valentina with a soft, pitiful look, then glanced at Anya
with a hidden smirk.
Valentina’s expression turned cold once more as she looked back at Anya.
“We don’t need you anymore. From now on, I’ll make sure my real
daughter never suffers again—not even from the presence of a fake
daughter like you under our roof.”
She kicked the suitcase toward Anya, the hard edge slamming into her
ankle. Anya cried out in pain, stumbling back.
“Take your things and get lost. You’re not part of this family. Don’t force
yourself into our lives.”
With that, Valentina went back inside the house with Zara, slammed the
door shut and locked it.
Anya rushed to the door and pounded her fists against the cold wood,
sobbing. “Mom, please! Don’t do this to me. Where am I supposed to go?”
Snow began to fall harder, soaking her thin home clothes as the icy wind
slapped her face. Only an hour ago, she had been the Foxes’ daughter. Now
she was just a stranger standing on the street.
She collapsed onto the street, curling into herself as the snow swallowed her
cries. Her lips were blue, her body trembling.
Then a shadow fell over her.
She looked up, eyes brimming with tears. “Grandpa…”
James, her grandfather, stood there with sorrow on his face. Without a
word, he reached out his hand. She stood shakily and collapsed into his
arms, holding him tightly.
“Mom said I’m not your granddaughter. Are you going to leave me too?”
James closed his eyes, holding the back of her head. “Of course not.”
She pulled back slightly, her lips trembling.
“You will always be my granddaughter, Anya. You are still my child. I don’t
care what anyone says.”
Fresh tears ran down her cheeks. Her body shook with relief.
“You’re just twenty,” James said softly, removing his shawl and draping it
over her shoulders to shield her from the snow. “You still have your whole
life ahead of you. It’s going to be alright.”
“Where should I go?” Anya asked, breathless and scared.
“Go to Griffin Kingsley’s house,” he said firmly. “He's been my best friend
since childhood. I just spoke to him. He’s agreed to take you in. You’ll be
safe there. He’ll take care of you.”
Anya’s tears wouldn’t stop, but she bit her lip hard, trying to hold them
back. Her entire world had fallen apart in less than an hour. Her so-called
parents had tossed her out like garbage. And now, all she had was a suitcase
and a sliver of hope.
“Thank you, Grandpa,” she sniffled.
James tucked a few bills into her hand. “This should keep you going for a
few days. That’s all I have for now.”
“I’ll walk. It’s alright.”
Anya tried to hand the money back, but Grandpa gently patted the back of
her hand, stopping her.
“Go, Anya. It’s getting late,” he urged. “You should leave quickly.”
Reluctantly, Anya curled her fingers around the bills, clutching them tightly.
She bent down, fingers curling around the suitcase handle, and began
walking away.
In the stillness of the night, the wheels of her suitcase echoed softly against
the pavement. She kept her head down, walking slowly, until a fleet of sleek
black BMWs sped past her. The sudden rush of wind tugged at her loose
hair, and her eyes lifted briefly, following the taillights disappearing into the
dark.
Her gaze flicked toward the cars. In one of the backseats, she caught a
glimpse of a man—older, with dark hair and a heavy black mark beneath
his eye. His face was hard, dangerous. Their eyes didn’t meet, but
something about him made her heart clench.
He didn’t look at her.
She turned away quickly, gripping the handle of her suitcase tighter, her
steps picking up pace. She kept walking, unaware that she had just seen her
real father.
***
Anya stood quietly in the grand hall of the Kingsley estate. The manor was
massive. Elegant, expansive, and intimidating. Polished marble floors,
crystal chandeliers, towering ceilings. Every corner screamed wealth.
The Fox family was rich, yes, but the Kingsleys were on an entirely
different level. They weren’t just wealthy—they were one of the wealthiest
in the entire country.
She stood quietly, her eyes scanning the luxurious space, suitcase gripped
tightly in her trembling hand. Her heart was pounding from exhaustion and
nerves. The place was beautiful, but intimidating.
“Anya?”
She turned around, startled, and found herself face to face with a sharply
dressed man. His white hair was perfectly combed, and his green eyes—so
familiar—held warmth. He looked to be around her grandfather’s age. On
any other day, she might’ve laughed and told him how much he looked like
her grandfather.
He was probably Griffin Kingsley.
He approached her and took the suitcase from her hand with ease, a small
frown forming on his face.
“You dragged this all the way up the estate?” he asked. “You should’ve
asked one of the staff to help.”
Anya simply shook her head, offering him a polite, grateful smile. “It
wasn’t that hard.”
“You’re soaked too,” he added, his frown deepening. The worry on his face
mirrored her grandfather’s, and something inside her softened.
“James told me everything that happened at your home,” the man said
gently. “Don’t worry. This is your home now. You don’t need to think about
anything else. Grandpa will take care of you.”
Her lips trembled. His words cracked the wall she had been holding up. She
nodded slowly, eyes glassy with gratitude. “Thank you, Grandpa.”
“Good girl,” Griffin said, beaming. The moment she called him ‘Grandpa,’
his bright smile lit up the hall. Then he patted her shoulder. “Go up to the
first floor. The room right next to the stairs is empty. Take a warm bath. I’ll
have someone bring your suitcase up.”
Anya paused, lifting her gaze to his face. Despite the cold and how her
voice shook, she whispered, “Thank you for taking me in, Grandpa. I
promise... I’ll move out as soon as I can. I won’t be a burden.”
His smile faded, replaced by a stern expression. He stepped closer, his cane
tapping against the marble with every slow, firm step.
“You let me decide that,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “Do I look like a
man who lacks space or money to take care of you?”
He placed a hand on her head, just like Grandpa James used to. The gesture
undid her. Hot tears spilled over her cheeks, no longer held back.
“Don’t cry, child,” he said softly. “Don’t think about tomorrow or the day
after. Right now, just take care of yourself. You’ll be alright.”
Anya bit her lower lip, forcing back the rest of her tears, and nodded.
“Thank you.”
She turned and climbed the grand staircase, her legs heavy with exhaustion.
At the first floor, she paused. There were rooms on both sides of the stairs.
For a moment, she hesitated.
‘Maybe both sides are empty,’ she thought. ‘That’s why Grandpa didn’t
mention left or right.’
She was too tired to think any more than that. Her head was throbbing, and
every part of her body ached. She turned right and tried the nearest door. It
opened easily.
‘No lock? Must be mine,’ she assumed.
She stepped inside.
The room was pristine—black walls, white furniture, a black headboard.
Everything was sharp, modern, and cold. The kind of space made for
someone who valued privacy and solitude. Anya, in contrast, preferred
warm colors, flowers, and sunlight.
She walked in and peeled off her damp shawl, placing it on the table near
the TV.
Her hand reached up to the wet dress clinging to her skin, pulling at it
slightly. She pulled her hair into a messy bun with no rubber band, then
began heading toward the washroom.
She had barely crossed half the room when the bathroom door suddenly
opened, and a man walked out.
Naked.
Anya froze. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes widened in horror.
Her mouth parted, but no sound came.
The man, with water still glistening on his broad chest and a towel slung
casually over his shoulder, hadn’t seen her yet. He casually walked into the
room.
“Ah!” her scream finally tore out of her throat.
The man stopped in his tracks, startled, his head snapping up. His sharp
green eyes—strikingly similar to Grandpa Griffin’s—locked onto hers.
“What the fuck?” he barked, voice deep and commanding.
His face, rugged and striking, twisted into shock as his eyes locked with
hers. Every inch of him radiated authority—the kind that made it hard to
look away.
Anya stood frozen, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest.
“Why are you naked?!” she shrieked, voice cracking with horror before he
even reached for the towel. “G-Grandpa! There’s a naked pervert in my
room!”

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 CHAPTER 2 THE NEW
SECRETARY
In one swift motion, Dante snatched the towel off the bed and wrapped it
around his waist, his jaw clenched, eyes flashing with fury and disbelief.
“Are you out of your mind? Who the hell are you?!” he demanded.
“Who are you?” Anya demanded, ignoring his question as she crossed her
arms over her chest protectively.
He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched tight, and with a low growl, he grabbed
the nightclothes from the bed and stormed back into the bathroom,
slamming the door behind him.
Anya, still paralyzed from the shock of seeing a fully naked man for the first
time in her life, stood frozen. He looked like he’d been carved out of stone.
Her earlier panic had vanished, replaced with a painful thudding in her
chest.
She had no idea where to go. This was her room. Where else was she
supposed to go?
So she stayed, stiff and seething, waiting for the pervert to come back out so
she could scream at him and throw him out.
But when he reappeared, he looked like he wanted to kill her. His eyes had
darkened further, thunderstorm-black.
He was fully dressed now in a black T-shirt and sweatpants that hugged his
tall, powerful frame. His dark hair was still damp, tousled, and falling over
his forehead. Those intense green eyes locked on her, sharp as knives and
burning with fury.
She twisted slightly, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her glare defiant
even as fear prickled up her spine. “Pervert!” she muttered under her breath.
His glare turned lethal, and she instinctively took a step back.
Just then, Griffin walked in, his eyes shifting between her and the furious
man towering near the bed.
“What’s going on in here?” he asked. “Why are you calling him a pervert?”
Anya flushed in embarrassment and turned to him, eyes wide and blinking
rapidly to clear the image burned into her brain.
“Grandpa, there’s a naked pervert in my room!” Anya cried, her voice
cracking with panic. “Him!” She jabbed a finger at the murder-eyes man.
Then, as if the horror hadn’t sunk in enough, she leaned in a little closer and
whispered urgently, “He was naked just now. Like—no-panties naked.”
Griffin suddenly burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking with amusement
as his eyes moved between the two of them.
“That’s my grandson, Anya. He’s Dante. Dante Kingsley. My own flesh and
blood.”
Anya’s mouth fell open. Her horrified eyes darted to Dante.
‘I just called him a pervert. Repeatedly.’ The realization sunk in. ‘He looks
like he’s about to make me homeless again.’ Panic filled her eyes as she met
his cold glare.
She immediately looked away and clung to Griffin like a shield.
“I… I didn’t know,” she mumbled, stepping closer to him and away from
Dante’s terrifying stare. She inched closer to the old man, whispering,
“Grandpa, what is he doing in this room? I don’t want to stay here with
him.”
She cast another nervous glance toward Dante and immediately flinched
under his gaze.
“I-I’ll sleep in the hall. Or maybe even the garden,” she stammered. “It’s
fine, don’t worry.”
Griffin was laughing so hard now that it had turned into a full-blown belly
laugh.
“Anya, you’re not sleeping in the garden,” he chuckled. “Your room is on
the other side of the stairs.”
Anya spun around instantly. “I’ll go right now. Thank you for the room,
Grandpa.”
Before either man could say another word, she bolted out the door and
down the hall, disappearing in a flash.
Griffin watched her disappear, a smile tugging at his lips. Then he turned to
Dante.
“Who is she?” Dante asked flatly, his frown deepening. “What’s she doing
here?”
Griffin leaned on his cane and let out a long sigh.
“She’s the Foxes’ daughter. Years ago, their real child went missing at an
amusement park. A few hours later, they found Anya—who looked identical
to their missing daughter. They thought she was theirs and took her home.
Raised her as their own. But today… their biological daughter came back.
And the moment they realized they’d raised the wrong girl all these years,
they kicked Anya out.”
Dante’s brows lowered, his jaw tightening.
Griffin’s voice dropped, bitterness lacing his words.
“They threw her out like trash. Said they didn’t want her anymore. What
kind of parents do that?”
Dante nodded slowly, then asked, “How long is she staying here?”
Griffin narrowed his eyes, glaring at him. “As long as she wants. Why does
it matter to you? It’s my house.”
Dante raised a brow, unbothered. He grabbed his phone from the bed and
muttered, “I was just asking. No need to bite my head off.”
Griffin grunted, then eyed him suspiciously. “You’re thirty, Dante. You’ve
never dated a woman. Not even a man. Right?”
Dante gave him a flat look. “I’m not into men, Grandpa.”
“Good.” Griffin nodded, slapping his cane against the floor. Then leaned in
and asked, “So… what do you think about Anya?”
Dante’s head snapped toward him. “Grandpa, don’t start. That girl and I?
Not happening. What is she—sixteen?”
“Twenty,” Griffin waved it off. “But you’re right. She can do much better.”
Dante’s eyes flashed dangerously, but Griffin didn’t notice—or pretended
not to.
“Anyway,” Griffin went on. “That girl’s in real trouble. She has nothing—
no family, no home, no money. She needs a job. Weren’t you looking for a
secretary recently?”
Dante straightened up, tossing his phone back on the bed and planting his
hands on his hips, clearly irritated.
If it had been anyone else in Griffin’s place, they’d have run for the hills at
that look.
“Grandpa, she just walked in on me naked in my own room, and now you
want to send her to work in my office? As my secretary?” His voice was
like steel. “How the hell is that a good idea?”
Griffin snickered, clearly amused. “What? Are you embarrassed because a
girl saw you naked? It’s not that big a deal!”
He started walking toward the door. “I’ll bring her back in and ask her to
apologize—”
Dante moved fast, closing the distance in two strides and grabbing his
grandfather’s arm, stopping him cold.
“That’s not necessary! I’ll give her the damn job, alright?”
Dante’s voice cut through the air, low and sharp with restrained frustration.
Grandpa halted mid-step and turned around, nodding with a pleased smile.
“Good! It’s decided, then.”
Dante’s hand dropped from his arm as the old man continued, “Great.
Tomorrow, she’ll go to your office with you.”
He said it casually, already walking out of the room.
“No, Grandpa, I didn’t mean tomorrow—” Dante tried to interject, but
Griffin was already descending the stairs, disappearing from sight before
Dante could even reach the door.
Dante clenched his jaw, fists tightening at his sides.
“It’s a deal then! She’ll be ready tomorrow!” Grandpa’s voice echoed from
below.
Dante let out a heavy breath, frustration bubbling under his skin, and
walked back into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
***
Charles walked up to the grand entrance of the Fox residence, passing
through the outer gate and ringing the bell several times. After a long pause,
the doors finally opened, revealing Valentina with a deep frown on her face.
She looked ready to launch into a tirade—until she noticed unfamiliar faces.
“Who are you?” she asked, suspicious.
Charles looked past her expectantly, but saw no one else.
He spoke politely, “Does Anya live here? Anya Fox?”
“No,” Valentina snapped and immediately stepped back into the house. She
grabbed the door. “There’s no Anya in this house. Get lost.” With that, she
slammed the door and locked it from the inside.
“Mrs. Fox—” Luca stepped forward, trying to stop her, “This is Mr.
Charles. He’s—”
But the door was already shut in his face, his hand smacking loudly against
the iron. The sharp bang echoed in the quiet night.
Charles and Luca exchanged a look.
Then Charles exhaled deeply and turned to walk down the steps. “Luca,
find out what’s going on. I want to know exactly where Anya is.”
“Of course,” Luca replied immediately, already pulling out his phone.
“Don’t worry, Uncle. I’ll send men right away. We’ll find her soon.”
***
At the Kingsley manor, the breakfast table looked more like a royal
banquet. Dozens of platters lined the marble surface—pancakes, fruits,
pastries, cheeses, and more. But Anya sat stiffly, only picking a few slices
of fruit, her appetite ruined by nerves.
Next to her sat Dante.
Dressed sharply in a tailored charcoal suit, his broad shoulders and intense
aura filled the space beside her. Even without looking directly at him, she
could feel him—his quiet, powerful presence made her heart race. Even his
silence made her gulp.
Her leg tapped nervously beneath the table, and she forced a piece of fruit
into her mouth.
Dante’s gaze slid to her, and she almost choked on that fruit.
“About last night—what you saw—”
“I didn’t see a thing!” she blurted, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Nothing.
Not even a shadow. I’m blind. I have night blindness.”
Her breath hitched. She spoke so fast it came out like one long, panicked
sentence.
Dante’s sharp eyes narrowed at her, lips pressing into a firm line. Then he
returned to his breakfast with a low grunt. “Even if you had seen anything,
you won’t remember it.”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Anya nodded quickly. “Nothing at all. I have the
memory of a fish. Seven seconds max. Especially the nak—”
She slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening. She flipped her face
away, horrified.
‘You want to get kicked out of this house too?!’ she cursed herself, cheeks
burning red.
Dante clenched his jaw. Then he said in a deadly calm voice, “Since you’re
coming to the office from today, don’t expect any special treatment.”
Anya looked up. His cold eyes met hers.
“Remember this. You’re just like any other employee. Don’t expect favors.”
“I know. Of course.” She nodded again, her tone more serious now.
Noticing her eyes fixed on him, Dante cleared his throat, an awkward
expression briefly flickering in his gaze. He grabbed the plate of
sandwiches from the table and shoved it in front of her.
“Eat this. I’m leaving. If you want to go with me, be outside in five.”
Anya grabbed a sandwich and shoved it into her mouth without hesitation,
chewing as fast as she could. Dante pushed back his chair and stood,
towering over the table as he turned and strode out of the room without
another word.
Four quick bites later, she swallowed the last bit, grabbed her purse, and
bolted after him.
Outside, a sleek white Rolls-Royce waited in the driveway, gleaming under
the morning sun like a ghostly beast. Dante stood near the passenger side,
talking on the phone, his back to her. She slowed her steps as she
approached, nervous.
His green eyes flicked her way for a second, making her heart stutter in her
chest.
She shuffled awkwardly in place, waiting for him to finish his call. He
turned away again, murmuring into the phone.
Anya rocked nervously on her heels, fidgeting with the strap of her bag. She
hated how just a look from him could make her stomach twist. He made her
heart pound so hard, she feared he’d hear it.
After a few minutes, Dante ended the call and walked toward her. Without
saying a word, he pulled open the car door.
“Thanks,” Anya said with a bright smile, climbing in quickly.
Seated, she beamed up at him. But Dante just stared at her with that same
pissed-off expression.
“Th–thanks?” she repeated awkwardly, extending her hand toward the door
as if to close it herself.
Dante growled something under his breath and slammed the door shut with
force.
Anya jumped in her seat.
Anya flinched. “What’s wrong with this guy?” she whispered to herself,
watching him stride around the car to the driver’s side.
Moments later, the engine roared to life, and the car sped down the streets
of Manhattan.
***
Kingsley Corporation was one of the most powerful companies in the
world, especially in tech and intelligence. It was one of the fastest-growing
empires in the country, and with that kind of influence came tight security
and a high-pressure environment, even though the office itself was filled
with people.
Dante strode across the seventeenth floor, his steps swift and firm, the
sound of his polished shoes echoing through the marble hallway. Towering
at well over six feet, with broad shoulders, sharp features, and an aura that
made people stand straighter when he passed, Dante was impossible to
ignore. His dark, custom-fitted suit clung to his frame perfectly.
Anya walked beside him, though slightly behind—struggling to keep up
with his long strides. Her eyes darted nervously to the people around them.
All chatter in the hallway died as every pair of eyes landed on them.
“Is that... a woman with Mr. Kingsley?” one man whispered, inching closer
to the group of coworkers who were also staring like they'd just seen a
ghost.
“Ice King… with a woman? Am I dreaming?” another girl gasped. “He
never even lets women be alone with him in public, let alone into his office!
What’s going on?”
“Could she be his fiancée?”
“What fiancée? Just look at her. She doesn’t even look—”
“She’s prettier than you,” a man muttered with a shrug.
The girl shot him a cold glare, lips tightening. Ashley, who’d had a crush on
Dante since he first walked into the company, felt like she'd been sucker
punched. Watching the man she admired walk in with another woman by
his side felt like a slap—one she didn’t see coming.
“I wonder what kind of relationship they have,” someone else muttered.
“He’s never been seen alone with a woman before.”
Just then, a tall man joined the group, eyes locked on the door that had just
closed behind Dante and Anya.
"That’s Mr. Kingsley’s new secretary," he informed them. "And I suggest
you all stop gossiping unless you want to lose your jobs."
The earlier man nodded quickly, a tremble in his throat. “Right. He doesn’t
mess around when it comes to rumors.”
“But…” a woman leaned in and whispered, “Mr. Kingsley’s never hired a
female secretary before. It’s always been men. Why would he bring a
woman now?”
“Maybe she’s just a temporary fill-in,” someone guessed. “Until he finds
someone permanent.”
Ashley latched onto the idea like a lifeline. “Exactly,” she said with a snort.
“She doesn’t even look like she knows what she’s doing. I give her a day or
two—she’ll be gone by the end of the week.”
As the office buzzed back into work mode, Ashley sat down but kept
watching Anya like a hawk. The girl was walking around the office, talking
to different departments, asking questions, adjusting tasks on her tablet.
And for some reason, everyone she spoke to was smiling. That only made
Ashley's blood boil.
Ashley’s fingers clenched. The girl had a round face, big bright eyes, and a
smile that made people warm up to her instantly. It made Ashley sick seeing
all that fakeness.
“Is she seriously going to roam around the office all day like she owns the
place?” Ashley muttered bitterly under her breath, watching the same blond
guy who insulted Anya earlier now laughing with her like they were best
friends.
Then, Ashley’s eyes gleamed with a plan. She stood up abruptly, marched
over to her desk, and started clicking through her computer. She printed out
a few photos, grabbed a blue file folder, stuffed the prints inside, and
walked quickly toward Anya.
She found her in the corner of the floor, where there were no cameras.
“You’re the new secretary, right?” Ashley asked with a sweet, fake smile.
“Mr. Kingsley asked for this file. Could you take it to his office, please?”
Anya smiled back, unsuspecting. “Sure.”
She knocked once before stepping into the CEO’s office.
Dante sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his expression grim as he
looked up from his screen. His cold eyes flicked to the file in her hand as
she held it out to him.
“How’s it going?” he asked, his voice deep, rough, but unexpectedly
sincere. He took the file from her, then added, “Are you settling in all
right?”
The question caught Anya off guard. She blinked, startled. He had been so
cold to her since yesterday that she thought he hated her—like she was
intruding into his life. The question didn’t match the man she met yesterday.
She had assumed he didn’t want her here at all.
“I—uh—yes,” she nodded quickly, clearing her throat. “I’m still getting
used to everything, but the office is nice. The work is manageable—”
She was mid-sentence when Dante flipped open the file, and she saw the
sharp shift in his expression.
His eyes darkened like a brewing storm. His jaw clenched, his fingers
tightening around the file.
“What the hell is this?” he barked, slamming the file onto the desk. His
chair turned toward her sharply, his piercing eyes locked onto her face.
Anya blinked in confusion. “What...?”
Dante opened the file again, and the prints slipped out—dozens of shirtless
male models spilling across his desk.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 3 PERVERT
LADIES
Anya's face drained of color.
“Is this how you’re doing your job?” Dante barked, slamming the file down
on the desk. “Printing this kind of crap all day? This is a professional office,
not some teenage magazine!”
“I didn’t—” she started, staring in confusion.
He didn’t care.
“You're already broke. I gave you a chance, and this is how you repay it?
Don’t you have enough common sense to know what belongs in a damn
CEO’s file?”
Anya quickly bent down to pick up the photos that had fallen from the file.
She shoved them back in and slapped it shut, her face tight with worry as
she looked up at Dante.
“I didn’t do it. Someone asked me to bring this file to you. I’m not stupid—
why would I print such photos and hand them to you?”
Dante’s jaw clenched as a muscle ticked near his temple. His eyes
darkened, and he rose from his chair, his tall frame casting a shadow over
the room. His voice was cold, edged with anger.
“Anya, this isn’t—”
The door swung open.
Ashley walked in with a different file in her hand and an expression of
innocence plastered on her face. Her eyes shifted between Anya and Dante.
“I overheard you, Anya,” Ashley said, shaking her head as if disappointed.
“Mr. Kingsley, she really shouldn’t be mixing personal matters in the office.
It’s shameful, honestly.”
Anya marched across the room and stopped right in front of her. “Perfect
timing. You’re the one who gave me that file, right? Tell him. This is the
same file you handed me.”
Ashley blinked, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? When did
I give you anything? This—” she held up the file in her hand, “—is the
actual file Mr. Kingsley asked for. Maybe you overheard me and grabbed
the wrong one to impress him?”
“What?” Anya’s face contorted with disbelief, her voice rising slightly.
But Ashley clicked her tongue, unimpressed.
“Anya, I’ve worked here for years. I’d never make such a stupid mistake. I
didn’t give you any documents.”
Anya’s fingers twitched, her hand curling into a fist. She had to fight the
urge to slap the smug expression off Ashley’s face.
Ashley casually walked over to Dante’s desk, placing the file down and
looking between the two.
“You’re too young for this job. Is your only plan to get rich fast and seduce
your boss? This isn’t some cheesy drama, Anya. You have to take
responsibility when you mess up.”
Anya’s face darkened, her patience wearing thin. She stepped forward.
“I’m the one who needs to learn? Learn what? You handed me that
document and now you’re accusing me to my face?”
Ashley’s expression shifted to mock devastation. She turned to Dante. “Mr.
Kingsley, please. You have to believe me. I would never do something like
this. This new hire is doing inappropriate things and, now blaming me?”
Anya opened her mouth to speak, but Dante’s voice cut through the room
like thunder.
“Enough.”
The silence was immediate.
Ashley fought hard to hide her smug smile. ‘That’s all it took.’ She smirked
inwardly, standing straighter, assuming Dante’s anger would now fall on
Anya. ‘Mr. Kingsley never tolerates mistakes. Now she’s getting fired.’ Her
thoughts raced with glee, already plotting how to slide into Anya’s position
—and eventually into Dante’s bed.
Dante frowned as he looked at the closed file, then glanced at Anya again.
His expression softened slightly. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a
black credit card and extended it toward her.
“You’re going through a lot,” he said, offering her the card. His voice was
calm now. “Take this to spend on yourself. Stop worrying about everything
else and focus on your work. If you do well, you won’t have to stress about
anything, and your attention will be on work.”
Ashley’s mouth dropped open.
‘He’s… giving her a credit card? Not firing her? What the hell is going on?’
Anya blinked, caught off guard. Then her lips curved into a grin, the tension
in her shoulders fading.
“I don’t need a card, Mr. Kingsley.” she said quickly.
“Take it,” Dante insisted, holding it out. His tone turned softer, almost
gentle. “If you have money, you won’t be distracted by other worries.”
“It’s alright, Mr. Kingsley. I really don’t need it.” She smiled and lightly
pushed his hand back.
Dante studied her for a moment, then raised a brow. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” She nodded, and he finally pulled his hand back, picking up his
coffee for a sip.
Then Anya suddenly pulled out her phone and placed it in front of him.
“I don’t need a card,” she muttered nonchalantly, showing him a QR code
on the screen. “Just transfer the money directly. Cards are too much
trouble.”
Dante choked on his coffee, coughing a little.
She handed him some tissues immediately. “Here.”
He took the tissue, eyeing her with disbelief and something close to
amusement.
Ashley stood frozen, her eyes darting between the two. She couldn’t form a
single word.
Dante wiped his mouth, glanced at Anya, then slowly picked up his phone.
He scanned the QR code she held up and transferred a few thousand dollars
to her.
Anya’s phone chimed. She looked at the notification and beamed.
“Thank you for the money. I’ll pay you back once I get my salary.”
Dante’s lips twitched with a rare smile at the corner of his mouth. He
pocketed his phone and sank back into his chair.
“Don’t make mistakes like this again at work.”
“Of course.” Anya nodded quickly, then turned her sharp, direct gaze to
Ashley.
“I’ll make sure to double-check every document before I bring it in, so no
one gets to blame me for their mess.”
Dante noticed the flicker in Anya’s eyes. He raised the back of his hand to
his mouth, hiding the smile threatening to break through, though a frown
had already crept into his brows. Clearing his throat to mask the chuckle, he
watched as Anya picked up the file and walked out of his office.
Ashley watched her leave, her nails digging into her palms. ‘He didn’t
believe her, did he?’ her heart pounded in her chest, nerves flaring.
"What are you still doing here?" Dante's voice cut sharply through the air,
colder and far more impatient than the tone he'd used with Anya. "Leave.
Get back to work."
Ashley’s face flushed with humiliation. The stark contrast between how he
treated her and how he spoke to Anya made her stomach twist. Her jaw
clenched, but she said nothing—just turned on her heel and left the room
without a word.
The day passed quickly, and as evening crept in, Anya packed her bag,
ready to head home.
The girls seated near Ashley glanced up and watched her. One of them
sneered, her voice sweet but laced with mockery. “Not even pretending to
work overtime on your first day, Anya? Mr. Kingsley’s still in his office.
Shouldn’t you at least try to impress him?”
Anya looked at her, unbothered, and shrugged. “My work’s done. I’m here
to do a job, not babysit anyone.”
Their jaws dropped in disbelief. Ashley glared, while the others exchanged
stunned glances. But Anya didn’t care. She turned and strutted away with
calm indifference.
As she neared Dante’s office to let him know she was leaving, she
overheard his voice through the slightly ajar door. He was on the phone, the
loudspeaker on.
“I won’t be able to make it. Swamped with work,” Dante muttered, his hand
scribbling notes on a file with sharp strokes.
Music blared faintly in the background from the caller’s side. “Come on,
it’s been ages. Just come for a bit. Rough week, man.”
Dante exhaled slowly, his broad chest rising with restraint. “Fine. I’ll come
by later.”
At that moment, Anya’s phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Dante lifted his
head, brows raised as she answered the call.
“Anya?” Griffin’s warm voice came through. “When are you and Dante
coming home? Dinner’s ready. I’ll have the table set if you’re hungry
already.”
“I was just about to leave, Grandpa,” she said nervously, biting her bottom
lip. “But Mr. Kingsley seems like he’s about to head out and meet his
friends.” She glanced at Dante, who was clearly listening. Then she lowered
the phone and stepped closer to him, allowing Griffin’s voice to carry.
“Don’t come home,” Griffin said immediately. “Go with Dante. There are
dangerous girls at these bars. I’m afraid someone might try something—
spike his drink or worse. It’s happened before.”
Dante frowned, tilting his head, confusion flashing in his eyes.
“Okay, Grandpa,” Anya murmured, hanging up the call.
When she lifted her gaze, Dante was staring at her, his dark eyes locked on
hers so intensely she flinched in surprise.
“I’m not taking you with me,” he said firmly. “Go home.”
Anya slipped her phone into her bag, standing her ground. “No. Grandpa
asked me to keep an eye on you,” she said, eyes burning with
determination. “So you have to take me with you. If something happens, I’ll
handle it.”
She crossed her arms, chin lifting in stubborn defiance.
“I don’t care about you,” she added quickly, catching the subtle twitch in
his jaw. “I care about Grandpa. He’s worried. I don’t want him to worry.”
Dante dragged a hand over his face and exhaled. A dull throb pressed
against his temples, and he rubbed his forehead with two fingers before
looking back at her.
She was still standing there—staring at him with those wide, unblinking
eyes. No hesitation. No trace of a smile to suggest she was joking.
***
Anya stepped into the Blue Orchid Bar beside Dante, and her lips parted in
awe. The place was enormous—elegant and dazzling with an open roof that
revealed the night sky above. Stars shimmered overhead while the party
thrived below. For a bar, it was more stunning and extravagant than
anything she had imagined.
Dante walked swiftly through the crowd but didn’t stop at the bar. Instead,
he moved past it and headed for the staircase leading to the VIP area above.
Anya followed close behind as he made his way to a central table in the
elevated lounge that overlooked the entire club.
A few men were already seated—breathtakingly handsome, like gods who
had stepped straight out of a fantasy. As soon as they saw Dante, they
greeted him with grins and nods.
And those grins and nods? They nearly stopped Anya’s heart, hitting her
with mini heart attacks with every step she took toward them.
‘What is this? Heaven?’ she trembled.
Dante took a seat on the plush leather couch. Anya sat beside him, her
posture calm but her gaze curious as she observed the others.
The arrangement had three couches around the table, enough to seat a dozen
comfortably.
Triston, one of Dante’s longtime friends, looked between them with a wide
grin. “So... you’re into younger women?” he teased. “Isn’t she a bit too
young to be my sister-in-law already?”
Chuckles echoed around the table.
Two more men sat at the table. One was Raiden—cool and composed,
dressed in a crisp shirt, clearly a man of business like Dante. The other was
Adrian, relaxed and slightly tipsy, nursing a drink. He owned a massive
luxury cars empire. Triston, in contrast, was a well-known model—loud,
playful, and flirtatious.
Dante reached for one of the many glasses chilled in the center of the table
and took a sip. “She’s not my wife,” Dante said flatly, clearly annoyed.
“She’s just—”
“Just a friend?” Raiden interrupted.
“No,” Anya said before Dante could even finish his sentence. “I’m not his
friend. I’m just an employee.”
Dante turned to her, his gaze sharp. “What?”
The table fell silent.
Everyone turned to look at her in disbelief. Even Dante’s eyes narrowed, his
brows knitting in surprise, clearly not expecting her to cut ties so coldly.
She didn’t even try to take advantage of the situation. She just… outright
rejected any association with him beyond work?
Completely oblivious to the stunned silence, Anya kept her eyes glued to
the colorful drinks in front of her. She picked up a sparkly blue one and
took a sip, her eyes lighting up in wonder. “I just came along to have some
fancy drinks, that’s all,” she added casually, already going for her second
glass.
“She’s bold,” Raiden commented, amused.
Adrian chuckled and leaned back. “She doesn’t look scared of you at all,
Dante.”
“She’s drunk,” Dante said flatly, sipping his drink as the others howled with
laughter.
Raiden smirked. “So when she’s sober, she’s scared?”
Dante ignored the comment and took a long sip of his drink, while the
others smirked.
The men exchanged glances. Triston leaned back with a wide grin, lifting
his glass toward her. “To our brave guest.”
Anya grinned back and clinked her glass with his. “Cheers!”
The mood at the table lightened again, laughter and conversation picking up
as the men started talking amongst themselves. Anya, meanwhile, ignored
all of them and focused on her new goal—trying every sparkling drink on
the table. She stayed focused on sampling every glittering drink she could
find, trying to guess their flavors like it was some sort of game. She didn’t
even notice when she had downed five glasses.
By the sixth, her vision was starting to blur.
Dante’s sharp gaze followed her hand as it reached for yet another glass. He
grabbed it before she could take it.
“Anya,” he said sharply, his jaw tightening. “I told you not to come. And
now look at you. How many drinks have you had already?”
Anya glared up at him with drunken defiance. “Don’t be so rude to me! Is
that how you talk to the one who came here just to save you from pervert
ladies?”
Dante clenched his jaw, placing the glass back down with a thud.
Triston was starting to shake with laughter, “Man, even your employees go
into hiding for four days when you give them that glare. Look at her.”
Triston snorted. “She came with you to save you from ‘pervert ladies’?”
“Shut it!”
A few sips later, her eyes glazed over and her tongue loosened. She raised
her glass with a lopsided grin. “Mr. Kingsley is my savior,” she declared.
“If he hadn’t taken me in last night and let me sleep in his bed, I’d be
homeless!”
Every man at the table froze and turned to Dante.
“You’re living with him?” Raiden sat up straighter, the rest of the men
looking intrigued. Dante’s glare practically screamed ‘stay out of this!’.
“You’ve had enough,” Dante said, pushing gently on her head to make her
sit.
But she swatted his hand away with a scowl and launched into a full
explanation about how her mom kicked her out and Dante let her stay. “Ex-
mom kicked me out. So I ended up at Dante’s house. He let me sleep in his
house. He’s so kind.”
The men listened, clearly entertained.
Then, suddenly, she turned toward Dante, placed one knee on the couch,
grabbed his collar, and leaned close—her drunken eyes locked onto his.
“He is my savior,” she said again, louder this time. “If he hadn’t taken me
into his bedroom, I’d be on the streets.”
“Into his bedroom?” Triston repeated, eyes wide.
Dante’s jaw ticked. He snatched a fry and shoved it into her mouth. “Anya,
shut up and sit down.”
She chewed happily, then leaned her forehead against his. “You’re so
generous,” she whispered loudly. “You even feed me now. You’re the
kindest man alive. So handsome. Such a deep voice. You even gave me
money.”
Everyone around the table gawked.
Dante sat frozen. Anya was too close. Her face, her voice, her breath—all of
it right in his space. He’d never let any woman this close before. It didn’t
feel uncomfortable… it felt different. A strange tremble moved through his
chest.
She turned back to the others. “He’s got abs like a Greek god. I counted
them. Eight. EIGHT abs!”
Adrian, Triston, and Raiden turned to Dante, disbelief all over their faces.
The man who barely looked twice at women was now sitting with one in his
lap, rambling about his body.
“You’ve seen his body already?” Triston asked, nearly choking on laughter.
“Anya, shut up,” Dante barked, trying to push her back.
Instead, she fell into his lap, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck,
her face buried against the warm curve of his throat.
Still unfazed, she looked at Triston and nodded with all the seriousness in
the world. “Yeah. I had a very good look last night. Chest. Abs. And then
down be—”
“ANYA!” Dante snapped, slapping a hand over her mouth.
She stuck out her tongue and licked his palm.
He jerked his hand back, startled.
“You’ve got such nice abs,” she muttered, still sitting in his lap. “Like,
really nice. Hard chest. Not boobs or anything. Rock hard. So nice.”
“Anya—” Dante growled, grabbing her wrist, trying to pull her hand away,
but she only wriggled it deeper under his shirt.
The men didn’t even try to hide their laughter now. They watched, drinking,
fully entertained.
“What? You don’t believe me?” she looked offended. “Fine, take off your
shirt. Show them. I’m telling the truth! I saw everything. You weren’t even
wearing panties!”
“Fucking hell!” Dante roared.
The men around the table howled with laughter.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 4 IT’S SOFT,
ISN’T IT?
The very next second, Dante hauled Anya over his shoulder like a sack of
potatoes. She let out a squeal, her fists immediately pounding against his
back.
“Put me down! I haven’t finished!” she cried, wriggling like a furious
kitten. “I have to prove I’m not a liar! You’re ruining my reputation, Dante!
Those three gods will never believe me now! I won’t get into heaven if they
think I'm a liar!”
Dante didn’t say a word.
He just stormed out of the lounge, ignoring her protests while the rest of the
table keeled over in fits of laughter.
A loud smack landed right on her butt cheek, making her wince and cry out,
“Ow!”
Dante’s grip tightened. She struggled, kicking and writhing in his hold, but
he didn’t let her go. Instead of taking her out of the bar, he stepped into the
elevator and hit the button for the top floor.
This wasn’t his first time here—he had a permanent suite upstairs. It was
easier to crash there than go home, especially after long nights of meetings
or parties. And with Anya this drunk, there was no way he was taking her
anywhere else.
He unlocked the suite door and walked straight to the bed.
The suite was massive—easily the size of a small house. Clean lines, dark
walls, and soft, warm lighting gave the space a rich, modern feel. One entire
wall was made of glass, overlooking the city skyline, with sheer motorized
curtains half-pulled to the sides. A sleek, oversized bed sat in the middle of
the room, low to the ground, covered in crisp white sheets, plush pillows,
and a black quilted throw. The headboard stretched across the entire wall
behind it—matte black, with hidden lights glowing softly around the edges.
On the left side of the room stood a full-sized bar, sharp and glossy with a
black marble top. Rows of rare liquor bottles sat on glass shelves behind it,
lit by cool LED strips. A mirrored wall behind the bar reflected the rest of
the room, doubling the space visually.
In one corner, a large sectional sofa faced a floating fireplace built into a
concrete wall. A few designer chairs, clean and minimal, were scattered
around a matte coffee table. The floors were smooth grey stone, and the
entire suite smelled faintly of cedar and something expensive she couldn’t
place.
As he leaned down to lay her on the mattress, she suddenly wrapped her
legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, clinging to him like her
life depended on it.
Dante exhaled sharply, lifting his head to meet her hazy gaze.
Their eyes locked.
“Grandpa asked me to keep an eye on you,” she mumbled seriously, her
words slurred. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Before he could even process what she’d said, her fingers tightened around
his collar. She yanked him close, her face rising off the bed as her lips
pressed against his in a sudden, soft kiss.
Startled, Dante froze—his entire body stiffening.
He had never had a girlfriend. Never even kissed a woman before.
And her lips… they moved over his like a whisper, gentle and slow, like
petals brushing against him. It was tender. So tender, he didn’t dare pull
away.
His heart pounded wildly, breaking through every barrier inside him, his
breathing uneven, raw.
After a few seconds, she pulled back and blinked slowly, lips still parted,
staring at him.
Then came his voice—low and sharp, and agitated. “Who do you think I
am?”
The idea of her being this drunk—so drunk she might be mistaking him for
another man—set his chest on fire. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to kiss
him. He just couldn’t stand the thought that she might not even know it was
him.
That thought pushed him to the edge.
“It’s just a kiss,” Anya mumbled, a small frown appearing between her
brows. “Why are you reacting like this? Why is there a crease on your
forehead?”
Her fingers reached up, brushing over the tight line etched there, trying to
smooth it out with a gentle, almost playful touch. “I can kiss you again…
Do you want me to kiss you better?” she asked, her voice soft, teasing, her
lips curling faintly.
Before he could respond, she leaned in and pressed her lips softly against
his. “There. It’s soft, isn’t it?”
Dante froze. Every muscle in his body went tight, locking down the storm
that raged inside him. One second. Two. And then the control he’d barely
managed to hold snapped like brittle glass.
His hand shot to the back of her head, fingers twisting in her hair as he
pulled her in hard. His breath came out in a heated rush against her lips, his
voice a low growl.
“Remember this—you started it, Anya.”
The next second, Dante’s lips crashed onto Anya’s, hungry and fierce. He
captured her lower lip between his teeth, tugging it into his mouth with a
low groan that vibrated through her. Then he moved upward, teasing her
upper lip with slow, demanding kisses before plunging deeper, swallowing
her breath as their mouths fought for dominance.
His lips left hers and traced a scorching path down her neck. Just behind her
ear, he pressed soft, wet kisses that burned like fire. Then his tongue flicked
out, sliding over the tender skin in slow, tantalizing strokes that made Anya
shiver.
“Mmmhhmm…” she moaned softly, the sound barely a whisper but enough
to make Dante’s body tighten. That quiet moan was pure addiction, and he
needed more—needed to hear her lose herself in him.
His mouth found her ear again, sucking and swirling his tongue over her
earlobe. His hand moved urgently to the buttons of her blouse, fingers
fumbling with a raw impatience, desperate to bare her skin.
But before he could undo the last button, Anya pushed him back and sat up,
chest heaving with ragged breaths. Her eyes flashed with a fire that matched
his own. With a frustrated growl, she yanked the blouse off her shoulders,
the fabric falling to the floor in a soft whisper. Her fingers slipped to the
side of her waist, gripping the zipper of her skirt.
Dante’s hand was faster. He clenched the waistband and yanked the skirt
down in one hard pull. It slid over her hips and thighs, pooling at her feet.
Anya didn’t wait. Her hands ripped open his shirt, the buttons popping off
like fireworks, scattering around them. She pressed her mouth to his throat,
tongue tracing the line of his Adam’s apple with a possessive hunger that
made Dante groan low in his throat.
His fingers dug into her waist, anchoring himself to her as his eyes fluttered
closed, trembling beneath her touch. A slow smile played on her lips as she
trailed her tongue down to his collarbone, savoring every inch of his heated
skin.
His jaw clenched tight, the tension building until he couldn’t hold back any
longer.
In a swift motion, Dante shoved her down onto the bed. A soft gasp escaped
her lips as she landed on the mattress, the cool sheets a sharp contrast to the
fire between them.
His mouth immediately found the valley between her breasts, tongue
teasing along the curves and over the swell of her throat. He licked her
neckline in long, slow strokes, then sucked gently on the skin just above her
heart.
Anya whimpered, and the sound sent a fresh surge of need rushing through
Dante’s veins.
His hands slid up her back to the clasp of her bra. With a practiced flick, he
unhooked it and tore it off, tossing it aside without looking.
Her eyes locked on his, breath hitching as she took in the raw hunger etched
on his face.
She slid her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, and he didn’t hesitate.
His mouth latched onto her breast, lips sucking hard before his tongue
flicked over her nipple with a rough greed.
“Ahh—” she gasped, arching her back as pleasure roared through her veins.
Her hand tangled in his hair, pulling him tighter just as his tongue circled
the swollen bud, slow and teasing.
Her body trembled beneath him, raw and exposed.
His other hand reached up, fingers rolling the other nipple between them,
pinching and stroking until she was breathless.
“Dante…” she moaned, voice trembling.
He lifted his head and looked at her, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. Hair
spilled across the pillow, neck stretched back in surrender.
That sight made his rod twitch painfully inside his pants. The hunger was
unbearable.
Her hands slid down to his belt, fumbling to undo it, but he caught her
wrists and pinned them above her head.
Her eyes widened in surprise.
His voice dropped low, rough with command. “Don’t move. You started this
—I’ll finish it my way.”
Without breaking eye contact, he grabbed the tie lying on the bed and
wrapped it tightly around her wrists, fastening her to the headboard.
Then he stood, fingers flicking the zipper of his pants. The fabric hit the
floor, quickly followed by his boxers, revealing his full, hard length.
His hand slid down her body, hooking the waistband of her panties. With
one swift tug, he dragged them down her thighs and threw them aside.
Anya looked down, and met his fierce gaze.
There was nothing soft in his eyes. Only dark, intense possession.
She licked her lips, eyes drifting from his face to the strong lines of his
neck, then down to his broad chest—muscles tight, skin warm under her
gaze.
His breath grew heavy, and she bit her lower lip, anticipation building.
Her eyes traveled lower, lingering on the thick, heavy length between his
thighs.
When her gaze flicked back up, she froze. He had been watching her the
entire time—those dark eyes burning with a fierce, unfiltered hunger that
made her skin prickle. The moment their eyes locked, something inside him
snapped.
The next second, he dropped his mouth to the hard bud of her breast, lips
wrapping around it, sucking softly at first, then deeper, more possessive.
One hand slid to her palm, fingers ghosting over her skin—down her wrist,
along the tender curve of her arm, grazing the hollow under her arm, tracing
the side of her breast, then skimming the soft line of her waist.
A shiver ran through her. A breathy moan escaped. “Tickles…” she
whispered, voice trembling.
He paused, lips twitching in a dark smile she couldn’t see, then his palm
moved lower, pressing against her stomach, spreading warmth with slow,
rough strokes. His tongue followed, tracing a fiery path across her belly,
licking and sucking, tasting every inch with a hunger that made her pulse
race.
Then his lips returned to the other breast—the one he hadn’t touched yet.
He enveloped it, tongue flicking over the swollen nipple before he sucked
hard, deep enough to make her gasp and arch into him, skin hot and taut
beneath his mouth.
His fingers drifted down lower, finding the wet heat between her thighs.
With gentle force, he parted her folds, thumb brushing her clit with teasing,
feather-light flicks.
“Oh God…” she whimpered, legs instinctively trying to shut, but his body
was a barrier, knees pressed into the mattress, holding her open, exposing
her completely.
Slowly, torturously, his mouth traced lower—her scent wrapping around
him like a drug, raw and intoxicating. He parted her folds further with his
tongue, sliding in, tasting her wetness, savoring the salt and sweetness that
was only hers.
His lips closed over her clit, sucking it into his mouth—soft and slow at
first, then with a growing, desperate hunger that sent sparks racing through
her.
“Ahh…” her moan was torn from deep inside, eyes clamping shut as
pleasure ignited like wildfire, scorching and fierce.
Her wrists strained against the tight binds, her back arched so sharply it
lifted from the bed. But he didn’t ease up. His fingers gripped her thighs,
holding her still as his mouth worshipped every inch of her.
His breaths came ragged, eyes shut tight as he lost himself in the taste and
feel of her, worshipping her with relentless devotion.
She writhed beneath him, hips lifting in an instinctive, desperate rhythm—
but he pinned her firmly down, mouth angled perfectly as his tongue
circled, flicked, then dipped lower before returning to that precious spot.
“Ahhh…” she cried out, voice breaking, trembling with need.
Still, he didn’t relent. The hunger in his mouth grew fiercer, more
demanding, sucking harder as her body trembled violently beneath him.
“Please…” her voice cracked, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, the
flood of sensation overwhelming.
Then, she shattered.
The wave of orgasm crashed through her, shaking her to the core. Her legs
quaked, hips bucked wildly—but he held her, worshipping her release with
fierce, maddening precision, sucking and flicking her swollen bud until she
was nothing but trembling, broken fire beneath him.
“Dante…” she whimpered, her body arching again, wrists tugging
desperately against the ties, trying to escape the overwhelming flood of
pleasure. But he was relentless.
His tongue flicked her clit again and again, hungry and insistent, while his
hands locked her thighs open, holding her captive in the fire he was stoking.
She came again—her back arching, every muscle pulsing, her cries ragged
and breathless. But he didn’t ease up.
“Dante, please…” she begged, voice trembling, tears slipping down her
cheeks as a third orgasm crashed over her before the second had even faded.
A sob broke free, legs shaking uncontrollably, one of them wrapping
weakly around his back, as if to anchor herself against the storm inside her.
But there was no running—not from him, not when he was starving for her,
his mouth claiming her as if she was the only thing that could ever satisfy
his hunger.
Her lips parted, tongue flicking over them nervously, gaze drifting from his
fierce face down to the defined line of his throat—then lower, to the
sculpted muscles of his chest and the powerful frame stretched out beside
her.
His breathing was heavy, uneven. She bit her bottom lip as her eyes flicked
down, catching the sight of his hard length resting heavily against the bed.
Her breath hitched.
When she dared to meet his eyes again, the realization hit her—he had been
watching her all along. Every glance she had thrown his way, every flicker
of heat in her gaze, mirrored in his own dark, intense, utterly shameless
eyes.
Without hesitation, he dipped his head back down to her chest, lips
capturing the peak of her breast with a slow, aching pull. A soft cry escaped
her lips as his mouth worked her over, tongue circling and teasing, while his
rough, warm fingers trailed down her arms.
They slipped from her palms, gliding along her wrist, tracing the curve of
her side until they reached her waist. Her body trembled under his touch,
anticipation coiling tighter until her breath came in short, shallow gasps.
Then his hand shifted lower, fingers spreading across her stomach, stroking
slow and reverent. His mouth followed, trailing heat down her torso until
his lips pressed a gentle kiss to the soft skin of her belly. Each flick of his
tongue sent shivers rippling through her, making her arch helplessly.
She trembled beneath him, wrists straining, breath hitching as he looked up,
watching her unravel under his touch. His body moved over hers with a
low, growling hunger in his throat.
He reached down, gripping himself—thick, hard, pulsing in his palm. A
strained breath escaped as he guided himself between her thighs, dragging
his tip slowly along her slick folds.
Her breath caught—eyes wide, lashes fluttering—as he leaned in, lips
brushing hers in a soft, claiming kiss. Then—
He pushed inside.
A sharp gasp tore from her mouth as her back arched, legs instinctively
tightening around his hips. He groaned low and deep, heat flooding through
him as her warmth wrapped him, drawing him in inch by inch until he was
buried completely.
“Dante…” she breathed, voice breaking, every fiber of her surrendering to
him.
“Shh,” he whispered against her lips, his hand cupping her face gently yet
possessively. “I’ve got you.”
He pulled back just enough before thrusting forward again—slow,
controlled, deep. Her head fell back against the pillow, body tightening as
waves of pleasure crashed over her with every movement. He moved over
her like he was claiming every inch, hips grinding deeper with growing
urgency.
Her moans spilled out. Soft, breathless, desperate.
“Look at me,” he growled, voice rough and low. She opened her eyes,
locking into his burning gaze. “I want to see you when you fall apart.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 5 A WIFE
Her fingers curled into the sheets, nails digging in. His pace deepened—
each stroke rough, each thrust sending tremors through her. His hand slid
down between them, fingers seeking that sensitive spot, circling, teasing
until her whole body tensed with pressure she couldn’t hold back.
Then everything snapped.
She shattered, crying out his name, body trembling beneath him. But he
didn’t stop. Driven by her trembling heat and the way her body clung to his,
he thrust harder, rougher. His mouth found hers in a bruising kiss as he lost
himself in her.
No mercy. No pause.
Without a word, he pulled free and flipped her over onto her stomach. Her
gasp was muffled into the mattress as he lifted her hips, knees digging into
the bed while her chest pressed down. One hand pinned her shoulder, the
other gripped her waist, fingers digging into her soft skin.
“Stay like that,” he muttered, voice low and rough.
She felt him kneel behind her, heat pressing into her back. His hand slid
down, parting her legs wider—no asking, just taking. His mouth returned to
her from behind.
His tongue ran slow at first, tracing her folds, then quickened, messy and
hungry. Wet heat glided over her again and again as he licked her hard. His
tongue flicked over her swollen nub, then slipped lower, tasting her like he
couldn’t get enough. She squirmed, overwhelmed, but his grip on her hips
was firm, locking her in place.
“Don’t move,” he growled. Then he flicked her clit again with his tongue
until her body shook, sucking hard.
Her body jolted, a loud cry tearing from her lips as he continued—rough,
fast, relentless—even as she begged under her breath. Her hands clenched
the sheets, wrists straining, body rocking against his face with every flick of
his tongue. He growled into her, the vibration sending another wave
through her. His fingers spread her open wider, tongue buried deep, licking
her up and down until she thought she’d break right there.
Then he pulled away, lips wet, chest heaving.
He lined himself up behind her. The thick head of his girth pressed against
her entrance again, and this time—no slow build. He slammed in deep with
one brutal thrust, making her gasp loudly into the mattress. She tried to
move forward, but he grabbed her hips and drove in again, harder.
His pace was ruthless.
Fast.
The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room—mixed with her cries and
his heavy breaths. He kept her bent low, back arched, body helpless as he
pounded into her from behind. Each thrust hit deep, shaking the bed,
making her gasp harder with every snap of his hips.
“You feel that?” he muttered harshly, hand sliding up her back. “You did
this to me.”
She tried to speak, but her voice broke as he slammed into her harder than
before. Her body rocked forward with every thrust. He grabbed her
shoulders, pulling her back into him. Her legs trembled, barely holding her
up as he drove into her over and over.
He was rough. Possessive. And he didn’t stop.
His fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her head back just enough so her
cries wouldn’t be muffled by the sheets. He leaned close, mouth brushing
her ear, whispering, “Now you’re mine.”
She cried out again, body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed through her.
But he didn’t let up. With a low growl, he slammed into her harder, deeper.
One hand slipped between her legs, fingers finding her clit and rubbing fast
—matching the rhythm of his hips.
She screamed, trembling as she came around him, her walls tightening hard
—but he didn’t stop.
“Again,” he demanded, voice hoarse. “Cum again, Anya.”
Her body was already raw with sensitivity, but his fingers kept moving,
rubbing harder as he thrust deeper. Her arms gave out, collapsing into the
bed, but he held her hips up, forcing her to take it. His thrusts grew rougher,
his growls louder—like he was losing control.
“Cum again. I want more,” he ordered. With one last hard thrust and a fast
circle of his thumb, she shattered again, legs shaking violently beneath the
intensity.
He followed soon after, groaning her name, his grip bruising as he buried
himself deep one last time, hips jerking against her as he came hard inside.
They both collapsed, breathless.
Her body twitched from the aftershocks, barely able to move.
He shifted lower, dragging her legs open again and settling between them
like it was the only place he belonged. She gasped softly as his tongue
traced over her sensitive folds—slow now, but still greedy, still claiming
her.
“Don’t close your legs,” he murmured, voice raspy against her skin. “I’m
not done tasting you.”
His breath fanned over her inner thighs as his hands pushed them wider.
Then his mouth was on her again. He licked slowly, drawing out every
drop, every shiver, like he wanted to memorize her taste. His lips trailed
along her soft skin before biting down—not hard enough to hurt, just
enough to make her jolt.
She moaned, legs trembling as he sucked on the bite mark. Another bite
followed, this time on the opposite thigh, then his tongue soothed the tender
skin as she whimpered beneath him.
“Hush, Anya,” he muttered, kissing a trail up her thigh. “Let me lick you.”
Her hand slid weakly into his hair, but he grabbed her wrist and pinned it
down, licking her again—slow and filthy.
He stayed there for a while—licking, sucking, nipping softly until she was a
mess again, whimpering under her breath, body twitching with every soft
bite. Finally, he slowed down. His lips pressed one last kiss inside her thigh
before laying his head there, using her soft skin as a pillow, arms wrapped
under her legs.
Her fingers drifted lazily through his hair, her breath still uneven.
He nuzzled between her thighs, one arm wrapped around her waist, the
other splayed protectively over her lower stomach, he let sleep take him.
His lips brushed her skin with every exhale, and even as his breathing
slowed, his fingers stayed wrapped around her.
***
The next morning, Anya stirred, her lashes fluttering as she blinked herself
awake. She turned slightly—only to feel a strong, muscular arm wrapped
tightly around her waist. Her bare back was pressed against solid, warm
skin.
Still groggy, she turned onto her back and blinked up—
And froze.
Dante was right beside her, fast asleep, his bare chest pressed against her
back, his arm possessively wrapped around her waist. The room was cold,
the AC humming above, making her shiver and acutely aware of the
complete lack of clothes on her body.
Her heart skipped. Her lips parted in silent shock.
She slowly turned to her side and tried to slide away, inch by inch, her mind
racing. Maybe she could slip out quietly. Maybe she could pretend it didn’t
happen.
But before she could move another inch, that strong arm around her waist
tightened—and in one swift motion, she was pulled back into the bed.
Anya landed flat on her back as Dante shifted, turning her toward him. His
sleepy eyes opened, heavy-lidded and dark with that morning haze, and
locked onto hers.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His morning voice was husky and low,
full of heat.
Before she could respond, he pulled her closer, her nipples brushing against
his chest. She was completely flushed as he leaned in, whispering against
her lips.
“You’re mine now.”
Anya’s heart thudded wildly. Flashes of last night—blurry, messy—
suddenly came back into focus. Her lips, his touch, the way he held her...
Her heart pounded, stomach in knots.
“You were very enthusiastic last night,” he murmured against her skin,
amused. “Told everyone at the bar you’ve seen every inch of my body.”
Her eyes widened. “What?!”
“You tried to take my shirt off in the bar. Said you wanted everyone to see
how good my body is.” He chuckled, a low, teasing sound.
Anya groaned, mortified, and covered her face with her hands. “Oh my
God…”
The memories were coming back—and fast.
She peeked out from behind her fingers, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Did we really… sleep together?”
Dante reached up, gently pushing her messy curls back from her face with
surprising tenderness. His dark eyes held hers.
“What do you think?” he murmured. “Can’t you feel it?”
Her cheeks flamed instantly. Oh, she could feel it—every bit of it.
He paused. A frown touched his brows as his tone turned serious.
“And from now on, you’re not allowed to have a single drop of alcohol
when I’m not around.”
The very thought of her—drunk, falling into another man’s arms, touching
him, doing to him what she did to him—made rage burn through Dante’s
veins like wildfire. Just the image of it made his fists clench.
It was not an option.
Now that she was in his bed, in his arms, no one else was allowed near her.
She was his. Whether she admitted it or not—his girlfriend, his woman, and
soon enough, she’d be his wife.
Anya stirred slightly, the fog of sleep lifting from her features. She tilted her
face up, blinking at him with drowsy eyes. “You don’t have to do this,” she
said kindly, her voice low and slightly raspy. “No need to think I’m your
responsibility just because you slept with me.”
Her fingers clenched against his bare chest, a faint crease forming on her
forehead. “You and I… we’re not the same.”
Dante’s jaw tightened, the muscles flexing with every word she spoke. His
eyes darkened with a storm of emotion.
She tried to ignore the shift in him and kept speaking, even though her
voice shook a little. “I don’t want to look like some gold-digger, not when
I’m already in such a bad place.”
She looked away, starting to sit up, avoiding his gaze.
“And honestly…” she muttered under her breath, just to push him away, “I
wouldn’t even commit to a man who wasn’t good enough. You might want
to work on your skills a little more. I wasn’t exactly satisfied last night.”
That was the last straw.
Dante’s patience snapped.
He grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back down, making her fall flat
onto the bed beneath him as he climbed over her, trapping her with his tall,
muscular frame. His grip found her jaw, firm and commanding, forcing her
to look into his eyes.
“Say that again,” he growled.
His body pressed against hers, close, dangerous, hot—and she stopped
breathing for a second. Her heart pounded in her chest, the tension between
them sparking to life.
He leaned down, his voice low and deadly quiet. “Then let me try again.
And this time, I won’t stop until you admit you’re satisfied.”
“What—no!” Anya gasped, eyes wide with panic.
‘Is he out of his mind? I’m still sore from last night!’ Her heart raced as her
thoughts spiraled. ‘I didn’t mean it seriously. I only said all that to push him
away! I didn’t want him to feel obligated to stay after a one-night stand. I
have nothing. No money, no home, no future. The last thing I want is to be
someone else’s burden. But this goddamn man took my words as a
challenge, and an invitation?’
Dante’s mouth found her skin again, scorching and possessive. His lips
trailed over her neck in slow, maddening circles—kissing, licking, teasing,
leaving a trail of fire that made her shiver uncontrollably. Each breath she
drew came out shaky, breathless, caught between want and surrender. Her
body betrayed her with every gasp and tremble, muscles tightening under
his touch like electricity was coursing through her veins.
“Dante—oh God—I’m sorry! I’m satisfied. I promise. I swear—!” she
gasped, voice trembling with desperation, hoping to stop him before she
lost herself again.
But the man was relentless. Without breaking contact, his hands moved
with ruthless precision. He slid down her body, his fingers ghosting over the
curve of her thighs before spreading them wide. She barely had time to
process it before his fingers slid between her slick folds, parting her as if
she belonged to him. In the next moment, his fingers thrust inside her,
stretching her wide.
“Ahhh…,” her cry echoed through the room, sharp and desperate, her back
arching off the bed as she tried to pull away, overwhelmed by the intensity.
“You are so fucking troublesome,” Dante growled, his voice thick with raw
desire and something darker beneath it.
Before she could react, his hands were on hers, grabbing and twisting
expertly. In seconds, he had bound her wrists to the bed with a rough silk
tie, tight but not cruel, his movements so practiced it was as if he’d done
this a hundred times before.
“Dante, I—I spoke too much. I didn’t mean it,” she tried to reason, voice
shaky, pleading for mercy.
His dark eyes narrowed, sharp and unreadable, a slight smirk curling the
edge of his lips. He tilted his head, assessing her like a predator sizing up
his prey. Then, one hand gripped her hips firmly while the other’s fingers
slipped back inside her, thrusting deep and slow at first.
His fingers curled expertly, rubbing against the tender skin inside her,
searching, teasing—and then finding her G-spot with precision. She gasped,
trembling, her body unraveling faster than she thought possible.
Within seconds, she came apart—harder and deeper than ever before.
“Ahh…” she cried out, body shaking violently, limbs weak beneath him.
But Dante wasn’t done.
His fingers slid from her core, gliding lower to her ass. A single finger
pressed against her tight, hesitant entrance before slipping inside. Her eyes
flew open, mouth parting in a silent, shocked cry. She tried to hold herself
steady, but the finger pulled out only to thrust back in again, slowly at first,
then building into a relentless rhythm.
Moaning uncontrollably, she tried to tame herself down, but the pleasure
only intensified, her mind slipping into a haze. She was coming on his
fingers again, waves crashing over her in quick succession, body trembling,
overwhelmed by the raw, filthy sensation.
And it didn’t stop there.
One orgasm spilled into another, her body writhing beneath him, desperate
for release that felt both endless and impossible to contain. Even as Dante’s
fingers slowed, sliding again between her folds and slipping into her
weeping channel, trying to soothe her frayed nerves, it wasn’t enough. Not
by a long shot.
Her whimpers turned into desperate pleas. “Please… I’m really satisfied. I
swear…” she begged, voice thick with need and exhaustion.
But Dante’s response was merciless.
His rod slid inside her again, filling her completely, and he moved with
fierce intensity—hard and fast—making her cry out over and over. Each
thrust pushed her closer to the edge again and again, his growls vibrating
through her skin.
One orgasm melted into the next, each wave of pleasure crashing over her
relentlessly. Her body writhed beneath him, trembling and arching as if
trying to catch a breath of relief that never came. Every nerve ending
burned, every muscle clenched and released in a chaotic symphony of
sensation.
She was desperate—desperate for release, for rest—but the pleasure felt
infinite, impossible to hold or contain.
Dante’s fingers, which had been expertly coaxing her through the storm,
began to slow, his touch lingering like a whispered promise. He tried to
soothe the rawness, to calm the wild pulses racing through her veins—but it
was futile. Her nerves were raw, trembling under his touch, craving more.
Her breath hitched, voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and longing as
she whimpered, “Please… I’m really satisfied. I swear…” The words
spilled out, thick and needy, a plea born of both surrender and desperation.
His thrusts were fierce, relentless, hard and fast, each one driving deeper
than the last. The sound of her cries filled the room.
With every powerful thrust, he pushed her closer to the edge again and
again, igniting new fires that flared hotter and fiercer inside her. His growls
rumbled low in his throat, vibrating through her skin.
Her muscles clenched involuntarily, trembling and tight, as wave after wave
of heat crashed over her. She was lost, utterly consumed by the fierce
rhythm of his body, the power of his touch, and the storm of pleasure he
continued to stir deep within her.
And still, he didn’t stop.
***
Dante stood at the edge of the room, pulling his belt through the loops.
His tall, lean frame looked like it had been carved by gods. Broad
shoulders, sculpted chest, the white shirt clinging to him like a second skin.
He looked like a hero from a drama—except better. Real.
Anya watched him, biting her lower lip. She still couldn’t believe she’d
slept with this man. A man who could make her feel everything and steal
her breath away—fully clothed or not.
She reached for her earrings on the table, slipping one into her ear.
Dante’s phone rang on the bedside table. He walked over, picked it up,
glanced at the screen, then set it down again without answering. Instead of
moving away, he sat beside her on the bed and pulled her straight into his
lap, making her sit snugly against him.
He took the earrings from her hands and carefully started putting them on
for her.
Anya squirmed slightly at the feel of his rough fingers grazing her delicate
skin. He smirked, tightening his hold around her. He pulled her closer, one
hand resting on her waist, the other brushing her earlobe gently as he
clipped the jewelry on.
His nose dipped behind her ear, breathing in her scent. His lips grazed her
skin, trailing heat wherever they touched.
The phone rang again.
This time, Dante looked at the screen and saw Mom flash across it.
“Pick it up for me,” he whispered huskily into her ear. “Put it on speaker.”
He held her close with one hand wrapped around her waist, his thumb
gently stroking her skin, while the other hand brushed her ear, placing the
earring with deliberate care.
Anya trembled slightly in his arms, the size difference between them
overwhelming. Even though she was young, and he was thirty—his body,
his presence, everything about him made her feel small, fragile.
She did what he said. Her hand slid across the screen and pressed the
speaker button.
“You’re like a scared little bird when you’re with me,” Dante murmured,
placing a kiss behind her ear that made her shiver. He smiled.
A woman's voice came through the phone.
“Dante?” Janet’s voice rang out warmly.
It was his mother.
Janet Kingsley lived a charmed life—elegant, always surrounded by her
social circle, and known for her love of gossip and grand plans.
She sounded more excited than usual.
“Dante, do you remember that little girl who used to visit our house all the
time when you were kids? Charles Carter’s daughter? We always said we’d
fix your marriage with her someday. She came from such a good family,
and you adored her so much. You wouldn’t let her out of your sight back
then.”
Anya stiffened.
Another woman?
“I’m not sure... I don’t really remember,” Dante muttered, voice casual, but
the slight crease in his brow betrayed him the moment he felt her body
tense in his arms.
"You’ll find out soon enough!" Janet said excitedly, continuing without a
care in the world.
"I heard Charles already found her after that incident at the amusement
park. Ever since that incident at the amusement park, he never stopped
searching. And now she’s finally back!"
“Mom, I don’t care,” Dante muttered, his voice gruff as he tried to end the
call. But Janet kept talking.
“He’s bringing her back home, Dante. Soon. And then you’ll finally have
your wife!”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 6 JANET
KINGSLEY
Anya froze.
The room, once filled with his warmth, now felt cold. Her breath caught in
her chest as she sat on his lap, his strong arms still wrapped around her. But
Janet’s voice echoed louder in her ears than anything else.
Wife?
Anya tried to pull away, but Dante’s grip tightened around her waist. He
drew her closer, burying his face in her neck. With one hand, he took the
phone from her.
“Mom,” Dante said, voice colder now. “I told you—I don’t care. That
marriage or agreement—whatever the hell that was—happened when I was
a kid. I’m not marrying her.”
Janet’s anger surged on the other end. “Dante! The Carters and our family
have been tied together for generations. You can’t just dismiss this. They’re
powerful, respected, and Charles only has one daughter. Everything will go
to her. If you marry her, you’ll unite two powerful legacies. Our business
will thrive!”
Every word sank into Anya like poison.
The more Janet spoke, the smaller she felt. Her heart pounded with
humiliation, every sentence confirming that she had nothing to offer—not
compared to the perfect heiress waiting to take her place.
She pushed against Dante’s arms, prying his hands off her waist. He
resisted, holding her tighter—but she forced herself free, rising from his lap
and grabbing her bag. Her hands shook as she shoved her things inside.
He stood up as well, watching her—jaw tight, brows drawn—his mother
still on the line.
“I don’t need any of that,” he growled. “I’m not marrying her. For fuck’s
sake, Mom—”
“I don’t care what you want!” Janet snapped. “When she comes home, you
will meet her. That’s final. I won’t let you waste your life staying single.
She’s the only girl you’ll ever marry. End of story.”
Before he could say another word, she hung up.
Dante let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his hair.
“Anya—” he stepped toward her, but she took a step back, creating space
between them.
Her voice was low, calm, but distant. “I have something important to take
care of today, Mr. Kingsley. I won’t be able to come to work.” She looked
away, her fingers fumbling with the doorknob. “Sorry about that. I’ll head
out first.”
She opened the door and quickly walked out of the suite.
Dante stood still, watching her leave, his chest tightening. The way she
addressed him—so formal, so cold—it clawed at his insides.
He rubbed his eyes, jaw clenched, breath uneven. He wanted to run after
her, to pull her back and tell her the truth, but he couldn’t risk forcing her to
stay.
Even though every part of him wanted nothing more than to hold on.
***
Anya stepped out of the hotel, her fingers trembling around the strap of her
purse. She kept her head high, her face blank, but inside she was falling
apart.
‘He’s going to marry someone else.’
She clenched her jaw, swallowing the ache in her throat. ‘I can’t stay near
him anymore. If I do, I’ll only get in the way. His wife will get angry.’
The word wife echoed in her head, cruel and unforgiving.
A sharp pain stabbed through her chest. She pressed a hand over her heart,
trying to calm herself, but the ache only grew.
‘I have to move out. I can’t live in that house anymore.’
Just the thought of it made it hard to breathe. Her decision hurt more than
she expected—but staying would hurt worse.
***
At the Carter Corporation headquarters, Luca strode briskly down the
hallway toward Charles Carter’s CEO office. Without wasting a second, he
entered and headed straight to the desk.
“Uncle Charles, here’s the information,” he said, placing a file in front of
him with a grin. “We found Anya. She left not too long ago, so tracking her
wasn’t too hard. Lucky for us.”
Charles stood up instantly, a hopeful smile lighting up his usually stern face
as he reached for the file.
“Where is she?”
“That family kicked her out,” Luca said, his voice laced with contempt.
“They found out she wasn’t their real daughter and tossed her onto the
streets.”
Charles’s face hardened, fury replacing joy.
“They threw her out without a second thought,” Luca continued, anger
flashing in his eyes. “Didn’t even ask where she’d go. But luckily, James
Fox arranged for her to stay at a friend’s house before everything fell
apart.”
Charles clenched his fists. “And now?”
“She’s staying with the Kingsleys,” Luca replied. “Griffin Kingsley took
her in after James sent her there through a friend.”
“The Kingsleys? As in the tech company owners?” Charles confirmed.
“The same.”
Charles let out a heavy breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Good,” he
murmured, eyes fluttering shut in relief. “She’s safe.”
Then Luca opened the file. “Here. This is her—Anya.”
Charles picked up the paper, staring down at the photo. His breath caught.
Her smile. Her eyes.
“She looks so much like her mother,” he whispered, eyes misting. “I
haven’t seen her since she was two.”
His hands trembled as he brushed his fingers over her photo, his heart
aching with years of guilt, love, and longing.
“Don’t worry, Uncle,” Luca said, walking up to Charles and giving him a
reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’ve been looking for her for years. Let’s
bring her home as soon as possible.”
“Yeah…” Charles murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.
Luca’s words carried a sense of certainty. “The Kingsleys have been our
family friends for generations. I’m sure they’re treating her well. It’s time to
get her back where she belongs. She shouldn’t be out there alone anymore,
not with her father here.”
A flicker of hope flashed across Charles’s face, and he gave a small,
relieved smile. “Let’s go. We’ll bring her home.”
***
Anya trudged down the stairs, her suitcase in tow. The house felt hollow,
like a shell echoing with memories. After returning, she had looked around
for Griffin, but the maids told her he had gone out to meet some friends.
She didn’t mind. In fact, it was a blessing. It gave her the perfect window to
leave—quietly, without a scene.
She had hurriedly packed everything she owned, stuffing it all into a
suitcase and dragging it down the stairs. Now, standing in the marble-
floored hall, she took one last look around the palace. Her heart was heavy.
This place had been a refuge, and Griffin... he had been nothing but kind to
her.
Tears stung the corners of her eyes. She had hoped to spend more time with
the old man who treated her like family. But maybe it was better this way—
leaving before she got too attached.
Just as she gripped the suitcase tighter and turned to walk out, the front
doors slammed open.
A woman stormed in.
Her eyes locked on Anya like a hawk spotting prey. She was dressed in
elegant, modern fashion—high-waisted trousers, a sleek blouse with silver
buttons, and flowing sleeves. The fabric was clearly designer—rich,
luxurious, and custom-tailored. Everything about her screamed wealth and
power.
Anya froze, surprised by the woman’s sudden entrance. But the woman
didn’t even blink. She marched directly up to her, face emotionless—cold,
proud, and intimidating.
Then, without warning, the woman slapped her across the face.
Anya staggered back, shock and pain flooding her system. Her heart
pounded in her chest as she turned to look at the woman, her breath caught
in her throat.
“My son didn’t come home last night,” the woman snapped, her voice ice-
cold. “You were with him, weren’t you? You slept with him?”
Anya’s pulse raced, her breath shallow. Was this... Janet Kingsley? Dante’s
mother?
Janet was livid. Her hands clenched at her sides, her lips curled in fury. Her
men had informed her that Dante had gone to a bar last night. He stayed at
the suite—fine. But this time, unlike every other time, he wasn’t alone.
There had been a woman.
And that woman, she had just discovered, was the same girl they had taken
in as a refugee less than a week ago.
“You bitch,” Janet seethed. “How dare you? We gave you a roof to sleep
under for a few nights out of pity, and you went after my son like some
desperate tramp. He has a fiancée! What kind of lowlife are you, trying to
steal a man while living off scraps we threw your way?”
Anya’s stomach dropped. She shook her head in disbelief, unable to
comprehend the venom in Janet’s voice. “Mrs. Kingsley… I didn’t know he
had a fiancée.”
“Shut up!” Janet shouted. Her voice echoed off the marble walls like
thunder. “This was our last chance for Dante to secure the Carter girl. You
know who the Carters are, don’t you? The diamond brand seen all over the
world? That’s them! And who the hell are you?”
Janet’s voice cracked as rage bled into desperation.
“And now I find out he slept with you?” She scoffed bitterly.
Anya’s chest heaved. Her fists clenched. Her patience—already thin—
snapped. She spoke slowly, trying to hold her anger in check.
“I’m not marrying your son,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I’m
moving out right now. You don’t have to worry about me. Here’s my
suitcase. I’m not someone who needs charity, Mrs. Kingsley.”
Janet’s eyes flashed with pure hatred.
“Good,” she spat. “Go throw yourself on the street and seduce someone
else. Don’t come near my son again. You’ve already sunk your claws into
him with that pretty face of yours, filled with nothing but evil.”
Her words cut like a blade.
Anya, agitated and furious, didn’t want to be ungrateful to the people who
had taken her into their home—even though all she wanted to do at that
moment was scream at Janet. But she held back her voice, tightened her
grip on her luggage, and turned to leave the grand palace without saying a
word. She completely ignored Janet’s rant.
But Janet wasn’t having it. She stormed over, her fury boiling over as she
grabbed Anya by the arm, yanking her back. "Where the hell do you think
you’re going?" Janet spat. "You’re not leaving until you learn your lesson.
You’re going to learn exactly how to not mess with me and my family."
“I’m leaving this house, Mrs. Kingsley,” Anya said, her voice trembling
with rage as she struggled to free herself. “What else do you want?! Let go
of me!”
But instead of letting go, Janet turned toward the tall, burly guard standing
silently nearby.
“Here,” she said with a vicious glare. She shoved Anya toward him. “She’s
yours now.”
The guard didn’t hesitate. He caught Anya in his arms, wrapping her in an
iron grip that left her immobile.
Anya’s heart slammed in her chest. Her entire body trembled at the
implication. “Let go of me! I said I’m leaving!” she cried, thrashing in
panic.
But Janet continued coldly, her voice laced with poison. “Take her away.
Do whatever you want with her. Just make sure there’s not a single part of
her disgusting body left that my son would want. My son doesn’t like used
things.”
Anya’s pulse pounded in her ears as she struggled, her body shaking with
fear and disbelief. She kicked her legs, desperately trying to break free, but
the guard’s grip only tightened, dragging her across the floor.
"Let go!" she cried out, her voice broken, her tears threatening to spill. But
the guard just smirked, cruel amusement in his eyes as he shoved her
backward, his hands roaming over her.
Anya’s mind spun. She needed to escape, but her body felt paralyzed with
fear. She scrambled on the floor, her hands trembling as she tried to push
herself up.
“Be with me now,” the guard growled, his voice thick with malice. “I’ll
give you a bed to sleep in.” He laughed, reaching to rip her dress from her
shoulders.
The guard, growing more furious with every attempt she made to escape,
grabbed her by the leg, hauling her toward him like she weighed nothing.
“No!” Anya shouted, kicking him hard in the stomach. He stumbled back,
shocked for a moment—but then rage twisted his face.
“You little bitch,” he snarled, storming toward her again.
Anya scrambled to her feet, but he caught her by the shoulders and
violently spun her around before slapping her across the face.
The sound of the slap echoed through the hall.
A maid standing behind a pillar near the kitchen saw everything. Her hands
shook as she fumbled to make a call.
“Mr. Kingsley,” she whispered urgently into the phone. “Please come home
immediately. Something’s wrong with Miss Anya.”
She hung up quickly.
Back in the hall, Janet, still watching the scene, said coldly to the guard,
“Don’t waste any more time. Enough of this. Just finish it. Hurry up.”
Anya was sobbing, crawling away, her face soaked in tears. Her eyes darted
around until they landed on the knife lying on the table next to the fruits.
Without a second thought, she lunged for it and pointed it at Janet, her
hands shaking, her breaths heavy and uneven.
"Stay back!" Anya shouted, her voice strained and full of desperation. She
pointed the knife at Janet’s face, tears streaming down her cheeks. "If you
come any closer, I swear I’ll kill both of you."
Janet sneered and lunged forward, trying to grab the knife, but Anya was
quick. With a wild swing, she sliced across Janet’s hand, drawing blood.
Janet howled in pain, stepping back in surprise.
"Ah!" Janet shrieked, clutching her bleeding hand, her eyes filled with fury.
Just then, the front door burst open. A man’s voice rang out, urgent.
“Mrs. Kingsley! Mr. Carter is here! He came with a full convoy, and there
are people surrounding the house!”
Janet froze, confused. “Carter?” she echoed. “Charles Carter?”
Her body stiffened.
She straightened her back, suddenly composed. ‘Is he here to discuss the
marriage of his daughter to Dante?’ she thought, excitement building in her
chest. This could be the moment she’d been waiting for.
Excitement flared in her chest at the thought.
“Hey, you!” she barked at the guard, grabbing Anya’s suitcase and throwing
it toward him. “Take this, and take her. Get her out of here—now. Through
the backdoor. Don’t touch her. I don’t need trouble with the Carters. Just
dump her on the street. I never want to see her near my house again.”
She turned to Anya, eyes filled with cruel disdain. “Learned your lesson
yet? If you ever come near my family again, I’ll make sure my men finish
you.”
The bodyguard lunged, snatching the knife from Anya’s hand and tossing it
across the room. He gripped her by the face and dragged her toward the
backdoor like she was nothing.
Within minutes, she was gone.
The house fell eerily silent again.
But just as the door slammed shut, a heavy, determined set of footsteps
echoed through the hallway.
Janet straightened instantly, wiping the blood from her hand, fixing her face
into a fake smile just as a imposing figure entered.
Charles Carter.
Janet’s heart jumped. She rushed forward, putting on her most polished act.
“Charles, is that really you?” she gushed, smiling brightly. “It’s been so
many years since I last saw you!”
Charles stepped into the grand hall, his gaze scanning the luxurious
surroundings. He didn’t sit down, instead pausing to take in the house in
silence. His sharp eyes quickly turned to Janet, offering her a polite smile
that didn’t reach the coldness in his eyes.
“I’m alright. How are you doin, Janet?” he asked, his voice calm but
distant.
Janet’s face lit up with a practiced smile. "Everything is great. Come, take a
seat. Don’t stand around like that. Actually, how about we go for brunch?
There’s a great place down the street. We can talk there."
Charles raised his hand, halting her words, and she immediately fell silent,
her eyes shifting to him with a hint of confusion.
“I’m not here for drinks,” he said, his tone firm. “I’m here to find
someone.”
Janet immediately tensed, her face shifting to one of confusion. “Someone?
Who are you looking for?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity. Then, her
face brightened as a thought crossed her mind. “Is it Dante? He’s at the
office right now working. How about I take you to him? You can meet him
there, and I’ll introduce you both.”
Charles lifted his hand again, silencing her with a glance, before meeting
her eyes directly. “I’m not looking for your son. I’m looking for someone
else.”
Janet’s confusion deepened. “Who are you looking for?” she asked again,
her voice a mixture of confusion and concern.
Before Charles could respond, Luca, who had been on a call a moment ago,
hurried over, whispering in Charles's ear. "We’ve found Anya. We should
leave right now."
Charles’s body stiffened, a surge of urgency flooding through him. His
breath quickened as excitement and tension flooded his system. "Great.
Let’s go," he said, voice low and commanding. Without wasting another
moment, he and Luca turned to leave.
“Charles, where are you going?” Janet called after him, hurrying to catch
up. “What are you looking for? Come on, you’ve come all this way, stay for
a while. Don’t leave just like that. How about tea?” she continued, trying to
keep him in the house.
Charles stopped abruptly, letting out a quick sigh, before turning to face her.
“We don’t have time right now, Janet. We’ll have tea later. We might meet
again soon,” he said with urgency in his voice.
The Kingsleys had taken Anya in when she had nothing. If they had treated
her well, Charles was more than willing to repay their kindness. Though he
didn’t like Janet—her nature rubbed him the wrong way—he was still
grateful they had given Anya a place to stay.
He turned again, walking swiftly toward the door.
Janet stood there, confused, watching his retreating figure. “Who were they
looking for?” she wondered, her mind racing.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 7 HEARTLESS
LITTLE THING
Then, as if a realization dawned on her, she stilled and a smile spread across
her face. “He said we might meet again soon. Is this about Dante’s
marriage?” she mused to herself, suddenly giddy at the thought. "I can't
wait."
With renewed excitement, she turned and headed back into the house,
humming a little tune under her breath. In her mind, she was already
planning the grand wedding of the decade, ready to flaunt it to the world.
As she made her way toward the couch, another figure stormed inside.
Dante strode through the hallway as he scanned the room, his eyes stopping
immediately on Janet. The house had fallen silent—no noise, no sign of any
commotion.
Janet’s face lit up as she rushed over to him. "What are you doing home so
early?" she asked, her voice chipper. "I thought you weren’t coming until
tonight."
“Mom, where is Anya? Have you seen her?” Dante’s voice was urgent, his
eyes searching the room.
Janet, unbothered, shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, Anya? That girl your
grandpa took in?”
“Yes,” Dante replied immediately, locking eyes with her.
She dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. "Yeah, she moved out
a while ago. Said she didn’t want to stay here anymore, now that you’re
getting married."
Dante’s tension spiked uncontrollably. “That stupid woman!” he muttered
through gritted teeth, his anger and frustration boiling over. His gaze
intensified, pinning Janet with a searing look. “Mom, are you sure she left
on her own? She doesn’t have anywhere else to stay. She got thrown out of
her parents' house, and now she doesn’t have much money. Are you sure
she left by herself?”
"Of course she did," Janet snapped, her voice dripping with annoyance.
"Why would I lie? You can ask her yourself if you don’t believe me. She
really left on her own.”
Dante’s eyes darted around the hall, and his gaze landed on a maid standing
behind a pillar, visibly anxious. “Were you the one who called me? Where
is Anya? Did she leave on her own, or did someone take her?”
Janet glared at the maid, her anger rising. The maid immediately gulped,
fear flashing across her face. Her career—her very life—was in Janet’s
hands. One wrong word, and she could be finished.
The maid’s heart pounded in her chest as she locked eyes with Dante. The
pressure of the moment was unbearable. Her voice barely came out as she
answered. “Yes, Mr. Kingsley,” the maid stammered. “She left on her own.
I helped her take the suitcase out. She was determined to leave
immediately.”
The maid’s words made Dante’s body stiffen even more. Janet’s grip on the
pearls around her neck tightened.
“I’m so hurt,” Janet said dramatically. "I’m your mother. How can you not
believe me? I’m telling you the truth!"
Dante’s eyes locked onto hers with a piercing intensity, his voice a
controlled whisper of rage. "I want you to cancel that marriage. Whatever
deal you made with the Carters—cancel it now."
Janet’s face twisted with fury. "No," she spat, her voice rising. "Why would
I do that? Are you out of your mind?"
“Mom,” Dante’s voice was low and controlled. “That marriage was
something you adults decided on when I was just a kid. It was probably
even a joke."
Janet snapped at once. "This wasn’t a joke, Dante! If it weren’t for Annie
getting lost at that park, you two would be married by now. But now that
she’s back, it’s your chance to make things right. You should marry her—it
would be good for both of you. You two should’ve gotten married a long
time ago."
Dante’s expression hardened, his frustration boiling over. "For God’s sake, I
don’t even know who she is!”
"So, what? You can meet her now. What if you see her and fall in love with
her at first sight?" Janet challenged, her eyes narrowed with urgency.
He gave her a blank stare, his annoyance growing. "Mom, drop this topic.
I’m not marrying her."
Janet’s face fell, and a look of disappointment clouded her features. "Dante,
your father died when you were just a boy. He told you to listen to me
obediently, didn’t he? Have you forgotten everything he taught you? You’re
ignoring me like this?"
Dante’s jaw tightened further, his fists clenched with controlled rage. Dante
took a deep breath, his entire body tense with anger.
He turned on his heel, storming out of the house without saying another
word.
***
Anya stood outside a grand mansion, her heart racing in her chest. She felt
small and intimidated by the size of the building.
The bodyguards standing in a line were watching her closely. Even the
slightest movement would alert them, making her feel like a prisoner on
display. She could barely breathe, her chest tightening with every passing
second.
Just moments earlier, after being thrown out by the guards at Kingsley
House, a car suddenly flashed past her, then circled back. It stopped
abruptly in front of her, and before she knew it, she was ushered into the
vehicle by some scary men.
She hadn’t wanted to go, but with so many intimidating figures around her,
she had no choice but to follow silently, her fear rising with every passing
second.
They hadn’t hurt her, though. The men had just told her to wait as their boss
was on his way. And now, as she stood there, her eyes darted nervously
around the grounds, only to see a sleek black car speeding down the street,
coming to an abrupt stop in front of her.
A young man stepped out first—tall and sharp-looking, with neatly styled
dark hair and a cold expression that didn’t quite match his age. He wore a
fitted black suit, no tie, just a plain white shirt open at the collar. His
movements were quick, calculated, like someone used to being obeyed.
Then came the older figure. He was shorter and heavier, with thinning silver
hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His face was lined, but his eyes were
bright and focused, holding the calm authority.
They walked toward her with hurried steps, and Anya instinctively took a
few steps back, her heart thumping.
"Annie," the older man called urgently, his gaze scanning her carefully. It
wasn’t a creepy look; it felt almost as though he was examining her soul.
Anya’s heart raced. She couldn’t remember this man, but something about
him seemed familiar. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and began
pulling her inside the mansion, guiding her as if she were a fragile doll.
"Come, let’s go inside. You’ve been standing in the sun too long. You might
get sick,” he said, his tone firm but caring.
Anya had no choice but to follow, her body moving almost mechanically as
she tried to make sense of the situation. She looked around as they entered
the mansion. The rooms were big and fancy. The floors were shiny and
smooth, and tall windows let in lots of light. There were big, soft maroon
rugs on the floor and heavy velvet curtains hanging from the windows.
Beautiful paintings hung on the walls.
Everything felt grand and rich, like a king’s house.
“Miss Carter,” Suddenly, several maids appeared from the shadows,
greeting her warmly.
Anya’s feet jumped in surprise. “Miss Carter?” she repeated, confusion
clouding her mind. She glanced around, her heart pounding.
Charles looked at her with affection in his eyes. “You look just like your
mother, Annie. Do you remember me?”
Anya stared at him for a long moment, her mind blank. He seemed familiar,
but she couldn’t place him. “I… I don’t know,” she whispered. “I think I’ve
seen you somewhere, but I don’t remember you.”
Charles’s face lit up with excitement, his eyes shining with a mix of joy and
relief. “That’s enough,” he said, stepping forward and gripping her
shoulders tightly. “I’m your dad.”
Anya gasped, her breath catching in her throat. “Dad?” she whispered, the
word feeling foreign on her lips.
Charles nodded, his expression softening as he continued. “Yes, I’m your
father.” His voice trembled slightly as he recounted the events of the past.
When he finished, he placed a hand on her head gently, as if cherishing the
moment. “You are my only child. You will never suffer again. You and I are
family now. There will never be any more pain in your life.”
Tears welled up in Anya’s eyes as the realization hit her. She had lived
without a real family for so long, not knowing what it was like to have
someone who truly cared for her. But now, in this moment, she felt
something she hadn’t felt in years—a sense of belonging.
“Thanks, Dad,” Anya muttered, stepping forward and wrapping her arms
around him. The familiar warmth enveloped her, and she clung to him
tightly, tears silently streaming down her face.
For so long, she had lived with the Foxes, where everything in her life was
a transaction, a favor for their business. She had never known love, only
duty. But now, standing in the arms of this man, she finally felt what it was
like she finally had a home.
Now, after hearing that this man had spent years searching for her just to be
with her, her heart shattered into a million pieces.
But then her body stiffened. ‘Carter?’
‘Is that the same Carter whose family Mrs. Kingsley was talking about?’
Her mind raced. ‘I’m the Carters’ lost daughter?’ But then she quickly
shrugged the thought off. ‘No way. It can’t be that simple. It’s too much of a
coincidence. How could it be?’
She pulled away from the hug and looked up at him, her eyes searching his.
“Dad… do you know the Kingsleys? Dante Kingsley?”
Charles nodded and gently led her to sit on the couch. "Yes, in fact, you and
he were so attached to each other that we all thought there might be a big
wedding between you two. But then we lost you."
Her heart sank further at these words. Her memories of what Janet had done
to her just hours ago, all for the same girl that Dante was supposed to marry,
made her stomach turn.
The humiliation she had suffered at Janet’s hands hit her hard.
‘What an irony,’ Anya thought, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.
Janet had treated her like trash, just so she could marry Charles’ daughter. ‘I
hate her so much,’ the thought wouldn’t leave her mind.
Charles, noticing the sadness in her eyes, looked surprised when he saw the
tears welling up. "Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice filled with
concern. He turned to face her completely, his hand moving to rub the back
of her head comfortingly. “Anya, if you don’t want to be with Dante, you
don’t have to. No one is forcing you.”
Anya started sobbing harder. Back at her old home with the Foxes, it had
always been clear—she would marry whoever they chose for her. Her
marriage had been a constant topic of discussion, like a business deal
waiting to be sealed. They’d even considered marrying her off to a divorced
man in his fifties with two kids, just because it would help their business.
Even before they knew she wasn’t their real daughter, they had treated her
like an object.
Anya sobbed harder, unable to stop herself. “It’s not that,” she cried,
looking up at him with tear-filled eyes, her voice breaking slightly. “I’m
just… sad. Because Ja—” She stopped herself, catching her breath. She
couldn’t bring herself to speak the truth—how Janet had tried to hurt her. ‘I
can’t ruin Dante's reputation in front of my dad.’ She thought. ‘What if dad
starts to hate him too because of Janet. He’s a good man. I can’t do that to
him.’
Charles, seeing the pain in her eyes, grew even more upset. The man had
spent over a decade searching for her, and now that she was back in his
arms, the thought that she had suffered all these years without him was
enough to tear at his soul.
He could barely hold himself together. “I’m sorry, Anya,” he whispered, his
voice thick with guilt. “This is my fault. I took too long to find you.”
The moment he said that, Anya couldn’t hold it in anymore. She burst into
tears, sobbing uncontrollably, her emotions spilling over. She hugged him
tightly, her tears soaking his shirt as she cried harder, everything that had
happened to her rushing back in a wave of raw emotion.
***
Meanwhile, Dante sat at his desk, his face a mask of tension. He had just
finished a long day at work when Eric, one of his oldest friends, walked
into his office. Eric had been with Dante since college, and now as a trusted
member of his team, he handled many of Dante’s personal affairs.
Eric placed a letter on Dante’s desk and then handed him another paper.
“Here,” he said, his voice casual, “this was left by Anya.”
Dante’s eyes rose as the resignation letter fluttered to the table. His face
tightened, his jaw clenching. “Did she say anything else?” he asked, his
voice low, almost menacing.
“No, she didn’t,” Eric replied, then paused, watching his friend’s troubled
expression. Lately, there had been whispers around the office—rumors that
Dante was going out of his way to help Anya, that he favored her more than
anyone else. And now, looking at him, Eric could see it clearly: her leaving
had definitely affected him.
Eric, sensing the growing tension, leaned in slightly. “Aren’t you engaged
to that Carter girl? Why bother with someone like Anya? You shouldn’t get
involved with two women. You’ve never even dated one, let alone deal with
both.”
Without warning, Dante picked up a file from his desk and threw it at Eric,
hitting him in the stomach. Eric winced, stumbling back, and looked at him
with a pained expression.
Dante stood up, his anger rising. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m
not marrying her! If you want her, then go ahead and marry her yourself.”
His words came out like a growl, filled with frustration.
Eric gave him a sour look before walking out of the office, still wincing
from the pain.
Dante stood there, staring at the resignation letter in front of him. His
fingers clenched around the paper, his anger rising. He looked at the name
“Anya” scribbled across the letter and gritted his teeth.
‘Heartless little thing,’ he thought, crumpling the paper in his fist. ‘Dashing
and disappearing at the first chance she gets. Didn’t even talk to me!’
He stood up, his hands shaking with frustration, trying to hide his irritation,
but it only grew more intense. ‘I won’t let you go so easily.’
“Where the hell is she even staying right now?” Dante’s jaw tightened as he
paced, the frustration building in his chest. “She doesn’t even have a home
to go to—where could she be roaming, wandering these streets?” His
thoughts grew darker with every passing minute, the tension visibly
tightening around his features.
The sound of his phone ringing broke through his thoughts. He glanced at it
on the desk before taking a deep breath and walking over to pick it up.
Janet’s name flashed on the screen. He rubbed his forehead in irritation
before answering.
“Yes, Mom?” he said, his tone betraying the weariness building inside him.
“I’ve got good news,” Janet’s voice chimed through the line. “I just spoke
to Charles Carter. His daughter has been found. I spoke to him earlier to
congratulate him, and I’ve convinced him to let the girl come for an
arranged date with you. Her name is Anya, and she’ll meet you this
weekend. Make sure you’re there on time.”
Dante frowned, his fingers tightening around the phone.
Janet chuckled. “I heard she’s as beautiful as her mother. I remember how
stunning her mom was, she had this incredible presence—everyone in a
room would turn and look. If Annie’s anything like her, she’ll turn heads
everywhere she goes.”
Dante’s tension only grew. “Alright.” He murmured and hung up the phone.
His eyes flickered to the crumpled resignation letter lying on his desk, and
then to his phone again.
‘It’s no use convincing Mom to drop this ridiculous idea,’ he thought. ‘I’ll
meet this girl, cancel this arrangement, and get it over with.’
***
A sleek BMW glided to a stop in front of a lavish restaurant. The doors
were opened for Anya as she stepped out, her heels clicking against the
pavement. The weekend crowd was thicker than usual.
Anya took a deep breath before heading up the stairs to the entrance. But
the moment her foot landed on the top step, she heard footsteps behind her.
She turned quickly, only to see two bodyguards following closely.
“No, you stay here,” she said, her voice soft but firm, an undercurrent of
nervousness evident in her tone. “I’ll talk to him alone.”
The bodyguards exchanged a glance but nodded and waited at the bottom of
the stairs. Anya steadied herself and walked towards the restaurant. She was
wearing a light purple dress that reached her knees, paired with pearl
earrings and bracelets. Her hair was styled in a middle part, tucked behind
her ears, and her eyes were focused straight ahead. The jewelry she wore
sparkled, more expensive than anything she had ever owned.
Just then, her phone buzzed. It was Charles on the other end, his voice filled
with warmth.
“Annie, if you don’t like him, you don’t have to stay. Just let me know, and
we’ll refuse the marriage arrangement. You don’t need to worry about
anything. We’ve never lacked anything. Don’t feel obligated to like him or
worry about anything.”
Anya smiled softly, her voice soothing as she responded, “Thanks, Dad. I
understand. Don’t worry.”
***
Dante sat in the backseat of his car, staring out the window as the city lights
passed by in a blur. His phone buzzed in his hand.
“Don’t mess up this date, Dante,” Janet said sharply on the call. “She’ll be
wearing a purple dress. You’ll spot her easily.”
“Sure,” he murmured with a tense frown, then ended the call.
The car rolled to a stop in front of a high-end restaurant.
He stepped out, climbed the marble steps, and entered the lavish place. The
moment he entered the restaurant, his eyes scanned the room. The place was
almost empty, save for one figure sitting by the window in a purple dress.
His eyes locked on her.
His steps faltered.
His breath caught.
“Anya?”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 8 REJECTED
RESIGNATION
His heart thudded violently. It had been over a week since she’d left,
vanishing without a trace. He had searched for her everywhere, but there
had been no sign.
And now—here she was.
His pulse quickened as he made his way toward her, each step heavier than
the last. The tension in his body only grew, and his heart raced as he took in
her appearance. She was stunning—more beautiful than he remembered.
He walked up to her, his gaze softening slightly. “Anya, what are you doing
here?”
Anya heard his voice and immediately stood up. Her eyes widened as she
took in the man walking toward her—Dante, dressed in a sleek black suit
that fit him too perfectly, every step of his making her heart clench.
But he didn’t stop walking. He kept coming, his gaze intense.
His eyes scanned her from head to toe, and his expression tightened. “And
why are you dressed like that?” he asked, voice low, strained. His heart
thumped violently in his chest.
She didn’t look bad.
She looked... too good. So beautiful that it made it hard for him to breathe,
made his heartbeat spike. He forced himself to ignore that reaction, but it
slipped into his words.
“What’s with all the makeup and jewelry? Why are you so done up?”
Anya stood there, stiffly, by her elegantly set table, flowers in the center,
completely taken aback.
“I came here to—” she began, trying to explain.
But he cut her off, stepping closer, tension carved into every line of his face.
“Why didn’t you answer when I called?” he snapped. “If I hadn’t run into
you here by chance, were you planning to keep hiding from me for the rest
of your life?”
His voice was angry—low and rough—but buried underneath was
frustration, and something else. Hurt.
“You resigned out of nowhere,” he went on. “What were you thinking? I
already rejected your resignation. You’re not quitting.”
Anya just stared at him, completely stunned. Her brain was fogged with
disbelief.
‘What the hell?’ she thought. ‘Aren’t we here for a blind date? How does he
still not realize I’m the girl he’s supposed to meet?’
Dante reached out and grabbed her hand, his grip firm and warm. He pulled
her gently from the table.
“Go outside and wait for me,” he said in a low, commanding voice. “I just
have something urgent to take care of, and then I’ll find you right away. It
won’t take long.”
Anya looked down at his hand wrapped around hers, then up at his face, her
eyes filled with confusion. But then something shifted in his expression—
something raw—and his grip tightened as if in panic.
"Don’t run away," he added quickly, almost like a reflex, as if he feared
she’d disappear the moment he let her go.
Without giving her a chance to respond, he added, “Come with me.”
Dante led her outside. At the quiet exit of the restaurant, the bustling sounds
faded into a calm lobby. He pulled her into a secluded corner and finally let
go of her hand. Gently, but with quiet insistence, he guided her shoulders
down and made her sit on the couch. Then, with a heavy breath, he bent on
one knee in front of her.
"Don’t leave, Anya. Please." His voice was softer now, the edge of anger
gone. "I’m not mad at you. I just... I want to talk. Stay."
Anya stared at him, his eyes no longer cold but troubled. After a moment,
she gave a small nod.
His face lit up with visible relief. He reached for her hand again, rubbing
her fingers softly between his rougher ones. Then, standing to his full
height, he turned and walked back into the restaurant.
Anya watched his retreating back as he disappeared inside. She caught sight
of him pacing anxiously just beyond the glass door, and a thought
whispered in her heart.
‘Maybe… it’s better he doesn’t know who I really am yet.’
Back then, she had nothing—but he was still there for her. But Janet didn’t
want her, she wanted the rich, famous heiress. That’s why she had to leave.
Her fingers curled tightly around her phone as memories from that day
rushed back, slicing through her chest like broken glass.
‘If he can’t accept me as just Anya, if he won’t choose me before knowing
who I really am—then I won’t explain anything to him. He doesn’t deserve
to know I’m the girl his family tried to force him to marry for the business.
I won’t marry a man who wants money more than me.’
She continued staring at him through the glass. She had missed him—
deeply. They hadn’t lived together for long, but he was kind to her.
Attentive. Protective. A man who didn’t just walk away after sleeping with
her.
And now, seeing him after all these days, she could barely look away.
Just then, he turned, his eyes scanning the lobby, sharp and searching, until
they landed on her. The moment he spotted her, his tense expression
softened. Relief flickered across his features like a breath he hadn’t realized
he was holding. His body finally relaxed.
Her phone rang.
Charles’s name flashed on the screen.
She picked it up, and his concerned voice came through instantly.
“Annie? How was the date? Are you still there?”
“Dad,” she said calmly. “I need you to call Dante and tell him I had to leave
for something urgent. Say I couldn’t make it to the date.”
There was a pause. “What happened? Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine,” she replied. Then added, “Also… Dad, can you
please start calling me Anya from now on? I’m used to that name.”
“Of course,” Charles said instantly, not even hesitating. "If that’s what you
want, then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll always give you what you need."
Anya smiled, her heart warming at his unwavering affection. “Thank you,
Daddy.”
A few moments later, Dante emerged from the restaurant and strode straight
to her.
“Come,” he said, gripping her hand again and pulling her up from the
couch. His hand reached up to brush her face gently.
“Have you eaten anything yet?”
Anya shook her head. "No."
His frown deepened, displeased. Without another word, he turned and led
her back into the restaurant.
As soon as they stepped in, a waiter approached them.
“Bring out the best dishes you have,” Dante ordered firmly. “And please be
quick.”
“Right away, sir,” the waiter said and disappeared.
As they sat at the table, Anya placed her bag beside her and glanced at
Dante. After a moment, she asked, "So… your date didn’t show up?"
“Yes,” Dante replied without the slightest hesitation.
Anya hid a small smile at his nonchalant tone. “I heard the Carters are
insanely wealthy. They’re in the diamond business, right? If you marry
Miss Carter, it’ll help your business, and your social status too.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed instantly, and suspicion clouded his gaze. "Is that
why you quit your job?"
Anya didn’t flinch. Her voice was calm, but there was pain in it. "I didn’t
want to be a mistress."
Dante stiffened immediately. His hand shot out, gripping hers tightly.
"I never asked you to be my mistress," he snapped, his voice hard.
Anya recoiled, her face growing cold. She pulled her hand away sharply.
"How can you even say that? Aren’t you here to meet Miss Carter? Isn’t
that why you're on a blind date?"
“I only came out to talk to her,” he said through clenched teeth, clearly
holding back frustration. "And she’s the one who cancelled the date.
Clearly, she’s not interested in this marriage either.”
Anya turned her gaze away, refusing to meet his eyes.
Just then, the waiter returned and placed several dishes on the table. Anya
took a deep breath, but the sight of the food made her stomach grumble.
She picked up her fork and began to eat in silence.
Dante watched her with a quiet intensity. Her calm, steady eating seemed to
reassure him, and he finally started eating too. But as he did, he reached
over now and then, placing more food on her plate, making sure it was
never empty—that she always had something to eat.
He didn’t say a word. But his quiet actions spoke loud enough.
“I’m not approving your resignation,” Dante said after a few quiet seconds.
Anya looked up, frowning at him, her gaze sharp.
But he didn’t stop.
“You’re quitting right after your first day? Do you think my company is a
place where people come and go whenever they feel like it?”
Anya’s body stiffened, but she calmly put down her fork and met his eyes.
“I can continue working,” she said softly, “but I doubt your mother will
approve.”
“Don’t worry about my mother. I’ll handle her.” His voice was calm but
firm. “If she bothers you, come to me. I’ll make sure you’re protected.”
Anya’s fingers tightened in her lap.
He didn’t know what Janet had done to her. He had no idea. And she didn’t
plan on telling him—not yet. It wasn’t her place, and she’d already left that
house.
She didn’t want to come off as troublesome and ungrateful.
Dante suddenly stood from his seat and walked around the table, catching
her off guard. Instead of returning to his place, he sat right beside her.
He didn’t want to startle her, not after finally getting her back after so many
days. But the space between them had been eating at him. She was sitting
so far, as if she didn’t even want to be near him. It made his chest tight,
made him restless.
He needed to be closer—just near enough to feel her presence. So, he
poured her a glass of juice and gently placed it in front of her, watching as
she slowly resumed eating. His dark eyes softened just slightly.
“Where are you living right now?” he asked. “Grandpa’s been worried.”
More than Grandpa, he had been the one losing sleep.
He’d searched the entire city, checking if she’d rented an apartment or was
staying with a friend—but she had vanished like she’d never existed. The
longer he searched, the more anxious he became. He couldn’t shut off the
dread. The fear that she’d never come back had consumed him, growing
more suffocating with each passing night. Even the exhaustion from his
sixteen-hour workdays couldn’t numb it.
He regretted letting her walk out of that suite. That day haunted him. After
everything—after she had given herself to him—she was his. The first
woman he had ever been with. There was no way he could just let her walk
away like that night meant nothing.
Anya’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Please tell Grandpa that I’m fine.
I’m staying at a friend’s place. I’m safe. Please tell him not to worry.”
“That’s fine.” His jaw tightened. “Now come back and live at my house.
That way no one will worry anymore.”
“No,” she said softly, but firmly. “Thank you, but I’m doing fine. I won’t
come back to your house.”
Dante’s face darkened. His lips thinned as tension rippled across his
features.
“How can you stay at someone else’s place?” he asked, voice rough. “Do
you even know how dangerous that is? You’re young, Anya. You shouldn’t
be living with strangers. What if something happens to you?”
She looked him dead in the eyes. “Aren’t you a stranger, too?” she asked
quietly. “You’re also someone else to me. Isn’t it the same thing?”
His jaw tightened, a vein throbbing beneath the skin. His dark eyes
narrowed, burning with restrained fury. He jerked his face away, the storm
inside him barely leashed, threatening to break free.
Anya’s heart pounded at the look on his face, but she didn’t back down.
‘He’s going to lose it when he finds out I’m Annie,’ she thought, ‘but who
cares? His mother was the one who hurt her first. So what if I kept the truth
from them? It didn’t compare to what Janet did. Not even close.’
She smiled to herself at the thought.
After finishing their meal, Dante and Anya stepped out of the restaurant.
Anya’s fingers trembled slightly. Walking beside Dante was nerve-
wracking. He was tall—so much taller than her—and broad-shouldered,
every step he took radiating quiet power. She tried focusing on her heels,
trying not to stumble, unaware that his eyes never left her—not for a
second.
He watched her face, her hair, the way she walked. His hands itched to
reach out, to pull her into his arms, but the fear that she’d recoil from him
again made him hold back.
So instead, he clenched his fists, silently restraining himself, and walked
beside her.
As they descended the stairs, Anya’s foot slipped. Her heel twisted
awkwardly, and she lost her balance.
Before she could even gasp, she was lifted effortlessly off the ground—
strong arms cradling her.
“No—Dante!” she hissed, panicking as she turned her face away and buried
it in his chest. Her cheeks burned.
“Put me down,” she whispered in his ear. “I can walk. I just tripped.”
But he didn’t listen.
He carried her down the stairs like she weighed nothing, ignoring her
protests.
The bodyguards who had accompanied Anya stepped forward, alert, but
Anya widened her eyes at them and subtly waved her hand, signaling them
to stay back.
They paused, then returned to their positions without a word.
Dante carried her down the stairs, effortlessly holding her in his arms. He
didn’t let her feet touch the ground even once. Without a word, he opened
the car door and slid inside with her still in his hold.
Anya looked at him in surprise. Even though he was tall and strong, he
handled her gently—making sure she didn’t bump into anything.
Once they were seated, he drew her onto his lap, her chest flush against his.
Without a word, he buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in
like she was the only thing keeping him sane.
“Let me go,” she whispered, trying to wriggle out of his grip.
He only tightened his arms around her. Even when the driver started the car,
he didn’t loosen his hold. Instead, he pulled her closer, pressing her tighter
into him.
His lips brushed her skin, warm and unhurried, as he leaned in. “You’re
young, but you have to be smart now,” he murmured against her neck, his
voice a low vibration that seemed to seep into her bones.
She shivered. She could feel his breath, the feather-light brush of his nose,
the soft drag of his lips on her neck.
Dante wasn’t just seeking comfort. He was drowning in her—her scent, her
warmth, the memory of her body wrapped around his. After that night, her
fragrance had haunted him. He’d tried to find the perfume she wore,
desperate to keep a piece of her in his room. But there had been no perfume.
That was simply her—sweet, addictive, and maddening.
“Take care of yourself while you're staying elsewhere,” he whispered, voice
soft but protective. “If you need anything, just tell me. I’ll handle it.”
Her fingers clutched his collar tightly, trembling as his mouth moved along
her skin. She shivered at the warmth of his lips but didn’t pull away—
though it was getting harder to hold back.
“Where are you staying?” he asked, his voice gentling even further as he
pulled back just enough to cup her jaw, his palm rough and warm. “Tell me
the address. I’ll drop you off.”
“No.” She stiffened immediately. “Just drop me at Columbus Circle. I
have… something to do. Then I’ll head home on my own.”
Dante’s expression changed instantly. The softness in his eyes faded,
replaced by a cold, stormy frown. Jealousy surged through him like fire.
She was dressed up tonight. Her hair done, makeup perfect, wearing a tight
outfit that showed off her figure. She looked stunning. Even if the jewelry
she wore was fake, she made it look like diamonds. And the thought that
she might be meeting someone else looking like this—some other man—ate
at him. It made it harder to keep his jealousy in check.
“I’ll take you wherever you want,” he said firmly. “But I’m not leaving. I’ll
be waiting right outside until you’re done, and then I’m taking you back to
where you’re staying.”
“No,” she responded quickly, then added more softly, “That’s not necessary.
I want to go alone.” She called out to the driver, “Please, just drop me right
here.”
But the car didn’t slow.
Anya shot Dante a glare when the driver didn’t comply. Dante’s jaw
tightened, his patience thinning. With a sharp mutter, he ordered. “Stop at
the side of the road,” he commanded.
“Yes, sir,” the driver replied from behind the partition, and the car came to a
halt by the side of the road.
As soon as the car pulled over, Anya attempted to slip out of his grip, but
Dante’s arm tightened around her waist, holding her in place. He gripped
her chin, turning her face toward him, his eyes dark and intense.
“You’re coming back to work.”
Dante’s large hand cupped her cheek, forcing her to look only at him. His
eyes never left hers. She sighed... then nodded.
“Yes.”
Only then did he let her go, the reluctant release of his hands clear in the
way his fingers curled into fists. The space where she had been just seconds
ago now felt agonizingly empty. He clenched his fists, resisting the strong
urge to pull her back into him.
He watched as she stepped out of the car and disappeared onto the
sidewalk. The car drove off, leaving Dante staring blankly out the window.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 9 A NECKLACE
Even after reaching home, Dante couldn’t stop thinking about Anya. She
had said she was living with a friend, but hadn’t said where—or with
whom. The lack of answers ate at him. The thought of her living with
someone else kept him on edge. He wanted her back in his house, in his
bed, where he could see her, touch her, keep her close.
As he walked into the house, crossing the hallway, Janet came rushing out
of one of the rooms.
“Dante!” she called, stopping when she saw him. “You didn’t see Annie
today, but don’t be discouraged. You’ll meet her again soon.”
She smiled warmly and came over, rubbing his arm.
“My son is so talented, handsome, and well-known. With your good
reputation and looks, Annie will definitely fall in love with you at first
sight.”
“Mom, please,” he said, cutting her off. There was an edge in his voice now.
“Stop talking about it.”
He didn’t want Janet to know he’d already made up his mind. Annie was
never going to happen. And he knew his mother well—if she found out,
she’d only push harder.
So he added calmly, “I need you to stay out of my personal life—and the
company’s business. Can you do that?”
Janet’s smile faded. Her expression darkened.
“What do you mean?”
Dante took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, his voice low and controlled.
“I’ve asked Anya to return to work. She was my secretary before, and I
need her back in that position. I want you to stay away from her. If you
bother her again in any way, I’ll move out of this house just to make sure
you stay out of my business.”
His tone was sharp, final. Then he stepped past her and stormed off without
looking back.
“Really? You’re going to talk to me like this over some girl?” his mother
shouted after him, her voice rising with fury. Her eyes burned with disbelief
and anger. “I’m your mother! How do you expect me not to care about you
or the business? Do you think you’re running some corner shop? This is a
massive empire, Dante. I’ve held this house and company together!”
But Dante didn’t stop. He didn’t even flinch. He headed straight upstairs,
disappearing into his room and slamming the door shut, leaving her fuming
in silence.
***
Anya stepped into the Carter estate, the soft click of her heels echoing
through the grand entrance. She made her way to the backyard, where
Charles usually spent most of his time.
Behind the house stretched a vast, beautifully maintained garden, acres of
green land and trees swaying gently in the wind. A sunroom with tall glass
windows overlooked the entire view—it was the most serene part of the
property.
Charles had once told her that her mother had insisted on building that
garden before even constructing the house. Now, it was a haven of peace
and memory.
Anya stepped into the sunroom and found Charles seated on a plush couch,
gazing out at the land with quiet reflection. Across from him sat Luca,
deeply engaged in conversation.
Her footsteps caught Charles’s attention. He turned toward her and his face
lit up instantly. “My child is back.”
Anya smiled at his words. She was twenty now, but Charles still called her
his child every chance he got. And she didn’t mind — not at all. It was as if
calling her that made up for all the years he’d missed, for all the times he
hadn’t been there to say it before. The love in his voice whenever he said it
made her feel at peace.
“Daddy,” she said sweetly and walked over to him, settling down on the
couch beside him.
“Sit closer. Come here,” he said, patting the space next to him.
She shifted and snuggled right up next to him. He stroked her hair
affectionately, then added, “Luca brought you a gift.”
She turned to Luca with a curious smile. Over the past few weeks, she'd
grown used to him. He was a gentleman—respectful, patient, polite, and so
genuinely kind that it made her wonder how a man like him stayed so
patient and gentle in a world like theirs.
Luca smiled from the single-seater chair next to them.
“I didn’t have time to get you anything when we first met. I was too busy
searching for you,” he said with a soft grin. “So, this is a little something I
bought for you now. I hope you like it.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small blue box. Handing it to her,
he watched as she opened it.
Inside was a delicate necklace—gold, with tiny ruby stones encircling a
small, flower-shaped pendant. Vines and leaves wrapped elegantly around
the chain, giving it a soft, yet intricate beauty.
Her breath hitched.
“It’s stunning,” she whispered, staring at it in awe.
“I remember that your mom loved trees, flowers, all things green,” Luca
said gently. “So, I thought this might make you happy.”
“I am happy,” Anya said immediately, her eyes wide with wonder. “It’s so
beautiful. Thank you, Luca. I love it.”
Hearing her words made Luca’s face brighten. He reached out his hand.
“Let me see if it fits.”
Without hesitation, she turned around, and he stepped behind her, gently
fastening the necklace around her neck. Luca then returned to sit on the
couch, his gaze lingering on her for a moment.
She stared at the pendant, her fingers brushing over it as a soft smile played
on her lips. It felt like wearing a piece of her mother’s soul—calm, green,
and filled with love.
Charles smiled as he watched the exchange. He ran his hand affectionately
over her hair and then spoke with quiet intent.
“Anya, if you don’t like Dante… Luca’s a good man too,” he said, making
her eyes widen in surprise.
“He works with me and manages most of our operations. His father and I
built this company together. After his parents passed, I’ve been like family
to him. He’s smart, loyal, and kind. If you want… you can give him a
chance.”
Anya blinked, flustered. She glanced at Luca, who now looked slightly
tense, then back at her father.
“Dad!” she protested gently. “I never said I don’t like Dante. I actually
came to tell you something.”
The moment her words fell, Luca shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His
fingers tightened, and his posture stiffened.
Charles tilted his head curiously.
“I’m going to start working at Kingsley Corporation from Monday,” she
said quietly, her voice steady but firm. “But I need you to promise me
something—don’t tell anyone that I’m your daughter. That I’m Annie.”
Charles frowned, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. “Do you think our
company is smaller than Dante’s?” he asked, his tone quietly offended.
“Anya, my company is bigger than Kingsley’s. If you want to work, I’ll
hand it all over to you — today. You can be the CEO. Everything I have
belongs to you. Why would you choose to work for someone else?”
“It’s not that,” Anya said quickly, her voice soft but earnest. “Dad, I just
graduated a few months ago. I want to learn first—to prove myself, to grow
into the kind of person who deserves the position. Once I’ve gained enough
experience and confidence, I’ll leave that company and come work for
you.”
Charles looked at her in silence for a moment, then sighed. “Alright. If
that’s what you want.”
Luca gave her an encouraging look, then turned to Charles. “It’s okay,
Uncle Charles. She’s really talented. I’m sure she’ll return soon and take
over the company like you want.”
Charles took a deep breath, then gave Anya a small smile. “Alright then. I’ll
wait for you to come back and take your place. But—” he paused, his tone
turning serious as he looked her in the eye, “I can’t keep the fact that you’re
my daughter a secret for long. I’ll have to announce it soon. And if the truth
comes out before I do, you’ll have to return immediately and start working
at the company.”
“I understand,” Anya said softly. Charles finally relaxed a little, the tension
in his shoulders easing.
Luca, however, kept his gaze locked on her. His jaw clenched slightly. He
was trying to act calm, to support her decision, but the unease in his eyes
betrayed him.
He wanted her at Carter Industries now—not later. The fact that she hadn’t
rejected Dante outright left him uneasy.
‘I’ll wait for you,’ Luca thought silently, his gaze dropping from her smile
to the necklace on her neck. He took a deep breath—one that didn’t quite
reach his heart.
He had waited so long already… and now she was asking him to wait again,
for a love that felt just out of reach.
***
“Anya, Mr. Kingsley has asked for you in his office,” a man informed her.
She nodded. She had returned to work for Dante again. And even though
she still didn’t trust Janet, she wasn’t going to let that woman control her
life. She had already left the Kingsley house—just as Janet wanted. She
wouldn’t let the woman dictate anything else.
She picked up the file the man handed her and started walking toward
Dante’s office. Her heart pounded with every step. She had only caught a
glimpse of him when he arrived that morning, and they hadn’t spoken yet.
Now, walking toward him sent an exhilarating shiver down her spine.
Without knocking, she opened the door and stepped inside. Dante looked up
immediately, his eyes locking on her.
Her smile bloomed instinctively, and his gaze lingered on that smile the
entire time as she approached his desk.
"Here, Mr. Kingsley," she said, handing him the file.
He took the file from her, eyes skimming the contents before lifting to her
face—then halting at her neck. At the necklace resting there.
Her neck was delicate. Graceful. The necklace glinted against her skin,
making her look even more striking.
‘Maybe I should buy her jewelry too,’ Dante thought darkly, pulse skipping.
‘Something for her ears… her thigh… her waist.’
The thought made his throat tighten. He cleared it quickly, pushing the dirty
images out of his mind. He had never lost control like this over any woman.
But with Anya, it was different. He felt possessed—helpless in his need for
her. Craving her. Reckless. Obsessed.
Her presence overwhelmed his senses, her soft fragrance floated in the air
around him, wrapping around his senses. Sweet. Addictive. He couldn’t get
enough of it.
His gaze returned to her eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That
necklace looks good on your neck,” he muttered, voice low and rough.
Anya blushed. Her fingers brushed the pendant lightly. “Thanks,” she
whispered.
His hand reached out—large, warm, commanding—and took hers with a
firm gentleness that made her breath falter. He rose from his chair, stepping
into her space until there was nothing left between them but heat.
His hand slid up, tracing the delicate curve of the necklace chain that rested
against her skin. His touch was slow, almost featherlight, as his rough
thumb rubbed over the pendant, the metal warming instantly under his skin.
A jolt of electricity pulsed through her. Her knees weakened.
His fingers drifted down, gliding over the back of her hand. He turned it
over deliberately, like he was unwrapping something precious, then
caressed her palm—fingertips circling, lingering, tracing the gentle swell of
the ring on her finger.
Her breath hitched. Her knees felt like they might give out at any second.
But Dante wasn’t looking at her face. His gaze was still locked on her neck
—intense, hungry, as if the chain resting there had him under a spell.
He leaned in slowly, his breath warm against her throat, his lips barely
skimming her skin. Then his tongue flicked beneath her ear—hot, wet, slow
—trailing downward in a sinful line toward the necklace. His other hand
never let go of hers, grounding her while setting her ablaze.
Her fingers clenched around his, instinctively seeking something to hold on
to. Her body trembled from the inside out, heat spiraling through her like
liquid fire.
And still, he didn’t speak. He just breathed her in, tasted her skin, like he’d
been starving for her and finally, finally had his first bite.
A sudden knock on the door shattered the moment.
Anya instantly jumped back, startled. Dante’s eyes flicked up, confused by
the sudden retreat, but she quickly tucked her hair behind her ear and
looked away, flustered.
"Mr. Kingsley?" a voice called from outside.
Dante’s jaw tightened, but he raised his voice reluctantly. "Come in."
A girl entered the office, hurrying over to the desk. "Sir, I need your
signature." She placed a file down, then her eyes drifted toward Anya, and
widened.
“Oh my God, that necklace is gorgeous!” she gushed, eyes wide with envy.
“I have one just like it—but mine’s a cheap first copy.” She let out a playful
giggle. “This one’s real, isn’t it? I can tell just by looking.” She leaned
closer, voice dropping into a teasing whisper. “It must’ve cost hundreds of
thousands. Did you buy it yourself, or did your boyfriend get it for you?”
Caught off guard, Anya quickly covered her neck. Then, almost panicking,
she pulled the necklace off and slipped it into her pocket.
‘How could Luca give me such an expensive gift?’ she thought in disbelief.
‘I thought it was just a simple gold necklace, maybe a few thousand at
most… not hundreds of thousands! And I’ve been wearing it out in the
streets like it’s nothing?!’
Dante, who had watched the entire exchange in silence, straightened.
His eyes shifted sharply to Anya. That one word—boyfriend—made him
stiffen at once.
“Where did the necklace come from, Anya?” Dante’s voice was calm but
firm, eyes sharp and locked on hers. The heat in his gaze made her tense.
“Uh… I-I brought it from my old house,” she stammered.
Dante’s piercing expression softened slightly at her words. He gave a small
nod of understanding.
The woman who had been standing beside her quietly left the room, closing
the door behind her.
Anya exhaled deeply, relief flooding her chest. She had almost gotten
caught—on her very first day back in the office.
“I’ll leave now?” she asked hesitantly and turned to go.
“Wait.”
His deep voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned back slowly, unsure if
he was still unconvinced.
“I have a lunch meeting,” he said. “Come with me.”
Anya blinked in surprise, then smiled. “Sure.”
Food, and him. Two things she could never turn down, and enjoy any day.
The thought made her lips twitch in a quiet giggle.
***
They headed to a nearby hotel. Even though it was close, the area was
luxurious, and the place was just as high-end.
By the time they arrived, most people were already seated in a meeting
room. The table was packed, the atmosphere buzzing with quiet
conversation. Anya followed Dante into the meeting room where influential
men in suits turned to look at them.
She sat beside him, trying to calm her nerves. But to her surprise, the
meeting wasn’t nearly as scary as she expected. Dante was calm and
confident as he spoke—completely in control, effortlessly leading the
discussion.
Anya kept stealing glances at him.
Even as he addressed the others with his usual cold demeanor, whenever his
gaze shifted to her, it would soften. The icy sharpness in his features melted
into concern whenever he noticed her glass or plate empty. Without saying a
word, he’d reach out and refill it for her, as if it was second nature.
The meeting slowly came to a close, and the mood in the room turned
lighter. Laughter echoed. Men began talking casually, drinks clinking.
One of them, an older man with a round face and kind eyes, smiled at Anya.
“Mr. Kingsley’s new secretary is very beautiful,” the man said playfully.
“Thank you, Mr. Hoshi,” Anya replied quickly, cheeks flushing as all eyes
turned to her. She shifted uncomfortably under the sudden attention.
He gave her a polite nod with a grin, and then turned to Dante, brows
furrowing with curiosity. “Aren’t you and Annie Carter close, now that
she’s back?”
Anya froze.
So did Dante.
It was as if someone had dropped ice down their spines.
“What?” Anya whispered.
‘Why would he bring up Annie right now? Does he know that I’m Annie?’
Anya worriedly stared at Hoshi, hand gripping the glass of juice.
“Mr. Hoshi,” Dante’s voice cut in, firm and cold, “who told you Annie and I
have any sort of relationship?”
Mr. Hoshi shrugged casually and gestured toward the men at the table.
“Your mother, of course. Everyone here knows you’re about to marry
Annie. Janet’s so proud. She’s been talking about it nonstop at every party
and gathering.”
Dante’s jaw tightened. His grip on the fork turned firm, knuckles going
white, and his eyes darkened with anger, even though he tried hard to stay
calm.
Still oblivious, Mr. Hoshi chuckled. “I hear Annie’s just as beautiful as her
late mother. You must’ve met her by now, right? So, tell us, who’s more
beautiful? Annie, or your secretary?”
Dante didn’t even blink. His voice was dry and distant. “I’ve never met
Annie. So I wouldn’t know.”
The conversation shifted after that, and Anya breathed a sigh of relief.
Dante was clearly disturbed, but he relaxed again, engaging in small talk as
people mingled around the room.
Anya, meanwhile, felt an uncomfortable sensation in her eye. She rubbed it,
blinking rapidly—then panicked as she realized one of her lenses had fallen
out.
Panicked, she bent down, searching the floor. But with her poor vision,
everything beyond a short distance was a blur.
Dante, who was talking to someone nearby, noticed her crouching. His
brows drew together, and he quickly excused himself and walked over.

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 CHAPTER 10 AN AFFAIR
“What’s wrong, Anya?” He bent down beside her and gently pulled her up
by the arm.
She looked up at him, her panic easing slightly at the concern on his face.
“It’s nothing… Just my lens fell out. I can’t find it.”
Without hesitation, Dante wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled
her closer to him.
Her eyes widened in surprise. They were surrounded by his industry peers
—people talking, watching. But he seemed completely unfazed.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said quietly. “Stay close to me. You’ll be fine.”
“You shouldn’t be this close to me,” she whispered, trying to pull away
from his hold around her shoulders. “What if people see us? They’ll
misunderstand...” She glanced nervously around.
He tightened his grip, his piercing gaze locking onto hers, stilling her
movements.
“I don’t care,” he replied, his voice calm, yet firm. “Let them.”
Despite the rumors surrounding his supposed engagement to Annie, Dante
showed no hesitation. No shame. No second-guessing. He didn’t even look
around to see who might be watching.
“You can’t see clearly, right?” he asked. Without waiting for her answer, he
leaned down again, bringing her closer. “Just hold on to me. I’ll stay with
you.”
Anya’s heart pounded uncontrollably. Her face felt warm, her breath caught
in her throat. She clutched his sleeve lightly, dazed by the closeness. The
closeness, the way he looked at her as if she were the only one he cared
about—it was almost too much.
“You should’ve told me about your eyesight earlier,” he murmured, eyes
scanning her face. “I would’ve let you rest. Wouldn’t have made you wear
those lenses all day.”
“I’m okay. I can manage,” she said softly, giving him a small smile.
Dante turned to her fully, his eyes serious now. He reached up, gently
tucking her hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her skin.
“If something like this happens again,” he said, his voice low but full of
meaning, “if you ever feel discomfort—even the smallest—tell me. Right
away. I don’t like knowing you’re uncomfortable and not saying anything.”
Anya stared at him, stunned by the sincerity on his face. That kind of
expression—he wasn’t just being kind, he was genuinely worried.
The tension on his face was as if he had stopped seeing everything else
entirely. It made her realize how intensely he was focused on her.
This man—who everyone thought was cold and unreachable—looked at her
like she was the most important thing in the world.
And it made him irresistibly attractive to her.
Her face softened in a way she couldn’t hide, no matter how hard she tried.
But then the sounds around her rushed back all at once. The clinking
glasses, murmurs of conversation—and she realized just how close they
were. And that they were still in public.
“Dante.” She placed her hands on his broad shoulders and gently pushed
him back. “We should keep some distance. People might think we’re having
an affair.”
“We are having an affair,” he said, his brow arched, as if it were the most
obvious thing in the world.
Her eyes widened in shock, and she immediately put her hand over his
mouth. “Don’t say such things out loud!” she gasped, cheeks flushing a
deep shade of red. “Don’t you feel even a little ashamed?”
He smirked, brushing her hand away slowly.
“You’re the one who should feel ashamed,” he said near her ear, his breath
grazing her skin. “After all, it was you who pulled me into bed.”
Her face burned even redder. Embarrassed, she dropped her gaze and turned
away, walking off quickly—anywhere he wasn’t. But even as she moved,
she could feel his gaze trailing her, intense and watchful, as though he was
only there to keep his eyes on her.
Later that evening, as the sun dipped low and shadows stretched across the
city, Anya and Dante exited the place. Both looked exhausted.
Dante was still holding her hand.
She tried pulling away several times, but his grip didn’t loosen. He held
onto her like he had no intention of letting go.
The car pulled up in front of them. Just as she was about to get in, his phone
rang.
“Mom” flashed across the screen.
Dante took a few steps away from the car and answered the call. “Mom?”
“Dante, where are you? Come home now. You and I are going to the
Carters’ house.”
“What?” he snapped, sounding agitated. “Mom, what are you—”
“The other day, Charles called me and said Annie was sick, which is why
she couldn’t come to that date. We’ve known their family for years. It’s
basic manners to check in. Charles was close with your father, Dante.”
Dante sighed. He knew Janet was using this as an excuse, she just wanted to
go there and see Annie. Still, because of the long-standing family
friendship, he didn’t want to be rude.
“Alright,” he said tightly. “I’ll pick you up in an hour. Be ready.”
“Wonderful,” Janet chirped, then ended the call.
Dante turned to Anya, walking her back to the car.
“I need to go somewhere,” he said with a faint frown. “I’ll drop you off
first. Get in.”
“Where are you going?” she asked casually.
“To the Carters’ house,” he said, his knuckles brushing softly against her
cheek. “They’re old family friends. Their daughter’s just returned after
years of being missing. We haven’t seen her since. Mom wants to pay a
visit—it’s just a courtesy call.”
Anya’s eyes widened. Panic flashed across her face.
Dante immediately noticed her reaction. Thinking she misunderstood, he
leaned in to explain, pulling her face between his hands.
"Hey, it’s nothing serious, I promise," he said, brushing his lips against hers.
"I’m only going there so Mom doesn’t get upset. I won’t stay long. Just a
few minutes, then I’m coming right back."
But that was the least of Anya’s worries.
“Mr. Kingsley—”
“You’re still calling me that?” he frowned, leaning in again to kiss her. But
she pulled back, making the crease on his brow deepen.
“At least stop calling me that in private,” he muttered, voice low and
heated. “We’ve even slept together. Or have you forgotten how you were
moaning my name in bed?”
The memory rushed into her mind at once. That night. The way she’d clung
to him, breathless and desperate.
“Stop it!” she hissed, slapping his hands away from her face. “We’re in
public! You need to stop doing this to me.”
“What, making your cheeks turn red?” he teased with a knowing grin.
She let out a huff and glared at him. “Since you’re not going to be at the
office now, can I leave early?”
“Sure,” he muttered, eyeing her carefully. “Are you feeling okay?”
She nodded quickly and pulled his hands away, lowering them. “I’m
leaving now, okay?” she muttered, then turned and rushed off.
Dante stood there, watching her disappear into the crowd, confusion
flickering in his eyes.
***
Back at the Carter residence, Anya burst through the door and ran straight
inside, her voice ringing out in panic.
“Dad? Dad! Where are you?!”
Charles rushed out of his room, alarmed. “What is it?!”
“Why didn’t you tell me Mrs. Kingsley was coming here today?” she
demanded breathlessly. “Why didn’t you tell me in advance?! I don’t want
them to find out I’m Annie!”
“What?” Charles blinked. “I didn’t know she was coming. Are you sure?”
“Yes! She’s on her way with Dante. They’ll be here any minute.” She
grabbed his arm desperately. “Please don’t let them meet me—don’t let
them see Annie!”
“Don’t panic,” Charles said calmly, patting her shoulders. “Go upstairs and
stay in your room. I’ll handle everything.”
“Thank you, Dad,” she breathed out, giving him a grateful smile before
hurrying upstairs.
Barely five minutes later, a maid approached Charles quickly.
“Mr. Carter, the Kingsleys are here to see you.”
Charles straightened up and adjusted his expression. “Let them in.”
Janet and Dante walked through the door, and Charles greeted them with a
polite smile.
“Well, what a surprise,” he said warmly, walking forward to shake their
hands. “Janet.”
“Mr. Carter,” Dante greeted with a firm voice, extending his hand. The two
men shook hands.
Janet stood proudly beside Dante, her eyes darting between Charles and
him. She noticed the way Charles looked at Dante and cleared her throat
delicately.
"How are you, Charles? You said Annie’s been sick, so I wanted to stop by.
A girl without a mother needs someone to be there for her when she's
unwell."
“She’s fine,” Charles replied with a tight nod, motioning toward the
couches. “Come, take a seat.”
"Oh, don’t treat me like a guest now. We’re family," Janet quickly waved
her hand, walking over to the couch and taking a seat. But then her eyes
caught something.
A sweater.
Lying carelessly thrown on the side of the couch. Her eyes narrowed.
It was the same sweater Anya had worn the day Janet had kicked her out.
‘No... what am I thinking?’ she quickly brushed the thought away, shaking
her head. ‘That girl couldn’t have anything to do with Charles. She can’t be
Annie. That’s just not possible. I threw her out myself. She’s probably
sleeping on the streets by now.’
She plastered a bright smile across her face and asked cheerfully, “Where’s
Annie? Is she feeling better? Why don’t you call her down? Dante is here
too. It’ll be the perfect reunion!”
Charles’ expression dimmed slightly as he shook his head. “Sorry, she can’t
meet anyone today,” he said regretfully. “She has a skin condition. It’s
contagious. No one, not even our own family, is going near her. We’re
making sure she recovers as soon as possible.”
Janet’s smile faltered. She had come all this way just to show Annie how
successful and wealthy they were—to prove they were worthy of being in
her life. But now her plan was falling apart.
“Is that so...” she mumbled. Then, as if suddenly inspired, she looked up
with forced enthusiasm. “Actually, I just remembered! I know a world-class
dermatologist. He’s treated thousands of patients. If it’s a skin condition, he
can cure her in no time!”
Already standing, she added quickly, “Why don’t you ask her to come
downstairs? I’ll take her to see the doctor myself. I promise I’ll take
excellent care of her.”
Charles stood too, lifting a hand in polite refusal. "That won’t be necessary,
Janet. We’ve already flown in a specialist from Paris. The best in the field.
But thank you for your offer—I know you mean well."
“Oh…” Janet’s disappointment deepened. Her eyes shimmered with
frustration, though she tried to mask it with a weak smile. She turned to
Dante, who stood calmly near the couch.
“You two have obviously met before during business, but let me introduce
you formally—Charles, this is my son, Dante.”
“I know,” Charles said with a small smile, nodding toward Dante.
Dante nodded back respectfully. The two had crossed paths many times at
business events, each aware of the other’s backgrounds.
Janet beamed proudly, clinging to Dante’s arm. "Then you must know how
successful he is. We just opened another branch in Switzerland. It was a
tough market to crack, but now it's going to be one of the biggest tech
companies there. And not a single scandal to his name. He’s so focused on
work, he hardly ever takes a break."
Charles nodded in agreement. “I know. Dante is extremely talented. He
even handles my company’s tech and data operations. He’s one of the most
trusted names in the industry right now.”
Janet leaned in slightly, her tone turning more persuasive. “So… what do
you think about Dante and Annie?” she asked. “Don’t you think they’d
make a great match?”
Charles gave a thoughtful smile, then answered honestly. “Dante is a good
man. I’ve seen him grow up. But the decision about marriage is entirely up
to Annie. If she agrees, we’ll talk. If not, then there’s no point in forcing
anything.”
“Of course!” Janet jumped in excitedly. "Maybe we can arrange a meeting
for them again? Just the two of them, to talk and see if they click. Honestly,
I already feel like they’re a perfect match."
Charles simply gave her a polite smile.
Janet tilted her head. "Ah—she doesn’t already have a boyfriend, does
she?" she asked casually, trying to gauge his reaction.
“No, I don’t think so,” Charles replied evenly.
Janet’s smile returned, wide and satisfied. She reached into the bag she had
brought and handed over a few boxes.
“These are a few souvenirs Dante picked out for you,” she said, presenting
them with a sugary grin.
Then, without waiting for further discussion, she turned and left with Dante
by her side.
***
Anya stood hesitantly outside Dante’s office, her heart pounding. After what
happened the day before, she was rattled. Even though they didn’t know she
was Annie, the close call had shaken her.
She had been living on edge for so long that even the smallest incident
threatened to unravel her carefully maintained control. Taking a deep
breath, she turned the knob and stepped inside.
The office was empty.
Relieved, she began to back away—but suddenly, Dante appeared right in
front of her, blocking the door.
She gasped and stumbled back, retreating into the room.
Dante walked in, letting the door close behind him as he headed straight for
his desk. Anya hesitated, then followed after him.
“Oh, I just came to give you your coffee,” she said quickly, extending the
cup toward him.
He took the cup from her hand without a word and placed it on the table
beside him.
Confused by his silence, Anya turned to leave. But before she could take a
step, Dante suddenly wrapped his arms around her from behind and lifted
her clean off the ground.
He carried her effortlessly and set her down—right on top of the table in his
office.
She gasped in surprise, her eyes wide as she stared at him.
She tried to push herself down, but he stepped closer, his body pressing
against hers. His hand gripped her hip, holding her in place.
Her heart pounded as her wide eyes flicked from him to the door and back
again. “What... what are you doing?” she repeated, her voice low and shaky,
trying to slide off the table.
Then he pulled something from his pocket.
It was a sleek black case.
Opening it, he took out a pair of rectangular glasses and gently slid them
onto her nose, adjusting them with precise care.
“Don’t wear contact lenses all the time,” he muttered, fingers grazing the
frame before trailing softly down her cheek in a feather-light caress.
Their eyes locked.
“It must be uncomfortable all day,” he added in a low, deep voice. “You
shouldn't strain yourself.”
Anya stared at him, confused, her brows knitting together.
Seeing the look in her eyes, Dante cleared his throat and looked away. “I
got them for free from a store. Came with something I bought. That’s why I
brought them. Take them or leave them.”
But even before she could respond, his expression shifted—growing
impatient. His fingers reached for the glasses, beginning to take them off.
“Forget it. If you don’t want them—”
“No!” she caught his wrist with a laugh, shrugging him off. “You gave them
to me. Now they’re mine. Stop it.”
For a moment, Dante froze. Then his frown softened. A rare smile tugged at
the corner of his lips.
Anya felt a sudden flutter in her chest, her heart racing as his smile made
her feel both flustered and strangely elated.
Her cheeks flushed with warmth she couldn’t hide. Desperate to escape, she
tried to move off the table, but he only tightened his hold on her hip and
waist, keeping her in place.
“Dante—” she whispered breathlessly.
His eyes locked on hers.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 11 MORE,
PLEASE
Dante’s grip on her hips tightened like iron as he pushed her back hard
against the cold, unforgiving surface of the table. The sharp edge pressed
into the bare skin of her thighs, sending a thrilling jolt straight through her
nerves. His dark eyes burned into hers, wild and hungry.
“No running,” he growled low, voice thick with command.
Her breath hitched as his mouth crashed onto hers, teeth scraping her
bottom lip in a rough, claiming bite. His tongue forced inside, demanding,
swirling with hers like fire and ice. She whimpered into him, fingers
digging into his broad shoulders.
His hands didn’t stop at her hips. They slid up under her shirt, fingers
trailing hot, possessive lines along the soft skin of her ribs, pulling her
tighter against him. “You feel so fucking good,” he muttered against her
mouth, his voice rough, thick with need.
Then, without warning, his mouth left hers and trailed down her neck, teeth
nipping and tongue flicking over the sensitive skin until she was gasping,
arching her neck to give him better access. His lips sucked hard on the pulse
point just below her jaw, leaving a bruising kiss, and she shuddered at the
sting.
“Dante…” she moaned, voice trembling, hands clutching at the table’s
edge.
He growled, lips brushing over her collarbone before diving lower, licking
slow and wet trails across the curve of her breasts, tongue flicking over the
hard, begging nipple through the thin fabric of her silk shirt. His teeth
scraped lightly, biting just enough to make her gasp and writhe beneath
him, heat pooling low in her belly.
His hands squeezed her hips firmly, then slid between her legs, fingers
pressing through the thin layers of her skirt and delicate silk, seeking the
warmth already soaked with need. “Soft,” he murmured against her skin,
voice thick and dark with desire.
His fingers suddenly pushed aside the thin panties, and slipped inside her
slick folds, curling expertly to stroke the most sensitive spots, igniting
waves of pleasure that made her cry out, her hips rising involuntarily to
meet his touch.
Anya’s breath hitched. “Dante… please,” she gasped, fingers clutching the
edge of the table as her body trembled.
His dark eyes flickered with hunger as he released her hips, hands moving
swiftly to the buttons of her silk shirt. He peeled the delicate fabric off her,
along with her bra, exposing the soft, pale skin of her chest to the cool air.
His lips followed the path the shirt had left bare, trailing kisses down the
smooth expanse, sucking hard over the tender skin beneath her collarbone,
leaving a mark that burned deliciously.
Anya’s fingers fisted the edge of the table, trying to steady herself as his
hands moved down to the waistband of her skirt. “Wait,” she whispered, but
he only licked her harder, reaching beneath the fabric to unfasten the clasp.
His fingers slid beneath the soft material, inching the skirt lower until it
pooled around her ankles, and then fell down, freeing her legs and revealing
the delicate curve of her hips and thighs.
He tore his eyes from her exposed skin, his hands busy undoing the buttons
of his own crisp white shirt beneath his tailored suit jacket. The jacket fell
to the floor with a heavy thud, and then his shirt followed, muscles coiling
beneath the fabric now freed. His tie was next — loosened and slipped off
with a rough tug — leaving his neck bare and vulnerable.
His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes dragging over her like he could devour
her right there.
He stepped closer, closing the last bit of distance between them.
“Turn around,” he ordered, voice low, dangerous.
Anya’s heart thundered. Her legs felt weak, but she obeyed, slowly turning
so her back faced him. The cool air kissed her now-exposed skin, her skirt
gone, panties damp and clinging between her thighs. As if on cue, his
fingers hooked on the waistband of her panties, dragging it down her legs,
and watching it fall to the ground.
And then he grabbed her waist, spun her fully around, and bent her forward
over the polished surface of his office desk. The wood was cold against her
chest, her palms splayed over the smooth grain as her breath caught in her
throat.
Then, his large hand hooked under her thigh, lifting her right leg up and
resting it on the edge of the desk, opening her wider for him.
“Good girl,” he murmured behind her, and her breath caught again.
His fingers found her again—this time with no barrier, no teasing. Just him.
Raw. Demanding.
He spread her open, fingers sliding back into her wetness with a filthy
sound that made her moan aloud. “So fucking soft,” he hissed, curling two
fingers deep inside her.
“Dante—ah—” Her voice cracked as her hips jerked involuntarily, his
fingers curling just right, pressing into the sensitive spot that made her
knees buckle.
“Don’t move,” he growled.
He withdrew, only to thrust in again—faster, rougher. Over and over, until
she was gasping, grinding back against him with every desperate breath.
She tried to steady herself, nails digging into the wood as the sound of his
fingers plunging into her filled the room, along with her own breathless
cries.
“Do you know how hard it is to control myself around you?” he snarled
against her neck as he leaned in, his chest pressed against her bare back, his
other hand coming up to squeeze her breast. “You walk around in these
tight skirts, fucking teasing me every goddamn minute of my day, looking
like this—”
His teeth grazed her shoulder.
“You were made to be taken like this.”
Her entire body arched when he twisted his fingers inside her again,
pressing harder, faster. Her leg shook where it rested on the desk. Heat built
in her belly, her breath getting shorter, broken by helpless moans.
“Please…” she whimpered, eyes fluttering shut.
“Not yet.”
He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. She was close, too close, but then he
pulled his fingers out of her with a slick sound and a guttural growl.
“Fuck. Look at this,” he muttered as he brought his fingers to her lips.
“Taste what you do to me.”
Anya’s lips parted instinctively, and he slid his soaked fingers into her
mouth, watching her with a gaze that burned. She moaned around him, her
eyes half-lidded.
Then suddenly, she felt him behind her again. The sound of his belt
unbuckling made her heart stutter.
“Keep your leg up,” he ordered. “Don’t you dare let it fall.”
She didn’t get a chance to answer. His hands gripped her hips hard,
dragging her body back against him. Then she felt the thick pressure of him,
blunt and hot, pressing against her slick entrance.
She barely got out a breath before he thrust deep inside her with a rough
groan.
“Dante—oh God—”
He didn’t give her time to adjust. He gripped her hips tight and began to
move, each thrust deep and fast, pounding into her with a rough rhythm that
made her cry out with every motion. Her leg shook from the strain, but he
didn’t let her move—he was in full control, dominating her body, her
breath, her very thoughts.
“You feel this?” he growled, slamming into her again. “You were made for
me.”
She tried to answer, but her moans swallowed her words. All she could do
was cling to the desk and take everything he gave her.
His hands moved again—one pressing between her shoulder blades, forcing
her further down, the other sliding around to rub that sensitive spot between
her legs in time with every thrust.
She shattered around him with a loud cry, her walls clenching hard, body
trembling. But he didn’t stop. He kept moving, drawing out every ripple of
her release.
“Again,” he growled.
“Dante—I can’t—I—” Her words melted into another moan as he angled
his hips, thrusting even deeper, rubbing against every raw nerve she had.
“Yes, you can,” he bit out. “You’ll take it. You’ll take all of me.”
Her leg nearly gave out, but he held her up, fucking her through it, hand
steady against her thigh.
She came again—harder, her voice breaking as she whimpered his name,
body spasming with pleasure that bordered on pain.
Only then did he slow, and even then, it was to pull her upright against him,
her back flush with his sweat-slicked chest. He kissed her shoulder—just
once—but it felt like a brand. His girth still hard, still inside her, pulsing
with restrained fury.
“I’m not done,” he whispered, voice low and rough against her ear. “You
cum so fucking easily.”
Dante’s breath came hot against her ear, his grip still hard on her hips. He
didn’t pull out. He stayed buried deep inside her, his hand pressed firmly
over her abdomen as if to feel the way she clenched around him.
Then, slowly, he pulled out, dragging a groan from both their throats. His
hands seized her shoulders and turned her around in one swift motion,
lifting her effortlessly onto the edge of the desk, legs parted and trembling.
“Lie back,” he commanded.
Anya obeyed, leaning onto her elbows as he knelt between her legs. He
hooked one thigh over his shoulder and dragged his fingers along her slick
folds again, slow this time—teasing, circling her entrance but not yet
plunging back in.
“You're shaking,” he murmured, the corners of his lips curling. “And I’ve
barely even started.”
His fingers slid back inside her—two at once, curling up with that
maddening precision that made her body tense and writhe. But then—his
other hand moved lower. Lower.
She gasped, hips jolting as his slick fingers brushed between the cheeks of
her ass.
“Dante—”
“Shh,” he whispered darkly. “Let me.”
He coated her thoroughly, the wetness from her earlier release making it
easy for him to rub slow, firm circles around her most sensitive spots, both
front and back, switching from one to the other in a rhythm that left her
breathless. He was exploring her body like it was his to own. And it was.
She felt it in every touch, every growl, every possessive word.
“I want all of you,” he said through gritted teeth. “Every inch. Every part.”
His hands didn’t stop moving. He had her arching off the desk again,
moaning, begging, as he brought her to another edge—one she hadn’t even
realized she was near.
She cried out as she came again, trembling beneath his touch, body
quaking, completely undone by the wicked rhythm of his fingers.
But he didn’t let her rest.
He stood between her trembling legs, and for the first time, his movements
slowed. His expression changed—still dark, still hungry—but his touch
gentled. His hand slid over her stomach, fingers splayed wide, grounding
her.
He lined himself up again, brushing the head of his rod against her wet
entrance, and this time, he eased in slowly—inch by thick inch—making
her feel every stretch, every pull of skin and heat.
Anya’s head fell back, mouth parting in a silent gasp.
He kissed her collarbone. “Look at me,” he ordered gently.
She did. Her eyes met his, and in them she saw something dangerous—but
also something unspoken. Something that made her chest tighten even as
her body burned.
He rocked into her slowly, his grip on her thigh firm, his other hand
stroking along her side like he was calming a storm. “Feel this,” he
murmured. “Every time I move, I want you to remember—this is mine.”
She nodded weakly, breath stuttering as he thrust again, a slow, deep motion
that made her toes curl and her eyes sting from the pressure building again.
He kept the rhythm unhurried, controlled, watching her fall apart beneath
him with every motion.
But as her walls tightened again around him, as her nails raked down his
arms, and her lips parted with another desperate moan—something snapped
in him.
“Enough,” he growled.
The pace changed in an instant.
He gripped her thighs, slammed her further up onto the desk, and drove into
her hard, fast, relentless. His body crashed into hers over and over, the
sound of skin on skin echoing in the room, her cries of pleasure swallowed
by his mouth when he crushed his lips to hers again.
She was nearly sobbing his name now, body rocking with every punishing
thrust.
“You take me so well,” he groaned, voice rough with strain. “So tight. So
wet. And you still want more?”
“Y-yes,” she choked, barely able to get the word out between gasps.
He thrust harder. “Say it.”
“I want more—please, Dante—don’t stop—”
“Good girl.”
He gritted his teeth and moved faster, every muscle in his body coiled tight,
his grip brutal and steady as she shattered again beneath him—her back
arched, body limp with release.
And then he followed, with a guttural groan torn from his chest as he buried
himself deep one last time, holding her tight, his breath ragged against her
neck.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The only sound was their heavy breathing, the faint creak of the desk
beneath them.
Then, Dante leaned down, kissed her softly on the lips, and whispered
against her skin—
“We’re not done.”
Dante didn’t give her a moment to recover.
Before she could even catch her breath, his fingers were back on her—deep,
precise, relentless.
He didn’t ease up. He didn’t give her mercy.
Her body jolted as he curled his fingers just right, hitting her g-spot, making
her vision blur, making her cry out his name like a prayer and a curse all in
one. Again and again, he worked that spot inside her, watching her squirm
and sob and soak his desk without shame.
“You’re making a mess,” he said roughly, voice low with satisfaction.
“Look what you’re doing to my table.”
But he didn’t stop.
Her thighs trembled violently, her voice cracked from the screams she
couldn’t hold in, and yet his hand never slowed—turning her most sensitive
place into his playground, his tempo merciless and calculated.
By the time he was done, her body was wrecked, trembling, slick, her chest
rising and falling in erratic gasps. And he—still composed, still hard, still
not finished—stepped back, licking his fingers slowly as he eyed her like
she was the only thing he craved.
“Come here.”
He moved to his leather chair, sinking into it with the kind of effortless
confidence that made her knees weaken further. He spread his legs and
patted his lap.
She stumbled forward, dazed, barely able to stand on shaking legs.
“Climb on,” he ordered, voice smoother now, dark honey dripping with
intent. “Show me how much more you can take.”
Anya straddled him, her body already aching, but the moment she sank
down onto him, all thought disappeared. He filled her again, stretching her
to the edge of pain and pleasure.
He gripped her hips and guided her rhythm, slow at first, watching her fall
apart all over again as she rode him with shaky, desperate movements.
He didn’t stop until he came—once, twice, a third time—growling her
name against her skin, his hands holding her tightly, like letting go would
tear him apart.
And she came with him, again and again, her voice hoarse, her body spent,
until there were no numbers left to count how many times she’d cum riding
him.
When he was finally satisfied, he pulled her forward into his lap, fully,
protectively.
She collapsed against his chest, completely limp, her head resting against
his shoulder as her legs trembled violently around him.
Her body couldn’t move.
He wrapped both arms around her, holding her close, letting her melt into
him as his lips found the shell of her ear.
“We’ll continue in five minutes,” he murmured against her skin, voice like
velvet and fire. “I don’t have any meetings until four.”
Anya couldn’t even breathe. Her heart pounded in her chest, her lungs
shallow, her body shaking with exhaustion.
Dante pressed a soft kiss to her neck, then another, trailing warmth along
her skin. One hand moved to her breast, fingers caressing gently, soothing
the sensitive skin while his mouth kissed around the curve of her throat.
She closed her eyes and sank into him, his thick girth still buried inside her.
***
Three hours later, Anya stepped out of Dante’s office looking absolutely
wrecked.
Her blouse was creased, her lips still tingling, and her legs slightly shaky.
She looked flustered, dazed—like someone caught in a dream she hadn’t
yet woken from.
She lowered her gaze to the floor as she walked back to her desk, trying to
shake off the lingering heat in her body.
"Anya." A voice called out to her, pulling her from her thoughts.
She looked up to see Eric, his blonde hair falling messily over his forehead,
approaching her with a smug smile, folding his arms across his chest.
"Where were you for so many hours?" Eric asked, his tone playful but filled
with knowing. "I went to your desk an hour ago, and now you're coming out
of Dante’s office."
Anya took a deep breath, her heart still racing. "I had... work," she replied,
trying to play it off.
Eric raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Don’t lie. I know exactly
what you were doing in there."
Anya’s eyes snapped to his face, shocked. “What?!”
He pointed at her, snickering. “Your face is all red and flushed. It’s obvious.
You cried, didn’t you? Did he scold you so badly that you started crying in
front of him?”
She exhaled slowly, trying to calm the chaos in her chest. Then straightened
and gave a small smile. “No, Eric. He didn’t scold me.”
“Lies,” he said again with a knowing shake of his head. “Be honest. Were
you having an affair with him in that office or what?”
Anya raised a brow, folded her arms, and gave him the exact smug look he
was wearing. “Yeah. I was having an affair,” she said flatly. “And it was
great. Didn’t expect it to last that long either.”
Eric’s smug expression faltered. “You shouldn’t joke about your career,” he
said seriously. “There’s no use seducing him. He’s clearly not interested in
being with a woman. Look at his track record.”
Anya had to stifle a laugh, her amusement barely contained. ‘Not interested
in women?’ she thought. ‘That man doesn’t let me out of his grasp unless I
threaten to never be alone with him again.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 12 DANNY
CARTER
"And besides," Eric continued, unaware of the thoughts running through
Anya’s mind, "he’s not going to marry you."
Anya smirked, leaning in a little closer to him. "Really? He won’t marry
me?" she asked, her tone playful.
"Obviously," Eric answered with a dismissive shake of his head. "He will
only marry Annie Carter. Do you even know who she is?"
Anya gave a small nod. “Yes.”
Then she leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “What if I am Annie
Carter?”
Eric blinked.
Then burst into laughter—unhinged and howling. “Have you lost your
mind? You? The daughter of Mr. Carter? Maybe in the next life! Beg the
heavens for it!”
Anya just grinned. “But what if I am?”
“Well, in that case,” Eric said with dramatic flair, “I must be their long-lost
son!”
They both laughed at that, Anya covering her mouth to keep from snorting
too loud.
Eric continued, "By the way, do you know about the new town project that
the company has been working on lately? Yeah, the person in charge of that
project is Mr. Charles' younger brother—Danny Carter."
Anya’s eyes widened at the mention of the name. She didn’t even know her
father had a brother. "How do you know about this?" she asked, her
curiosity piqued.
"Mr. Kingsley is meeting him this weekend. And you will be going along
with him. If you can help him get this deal from Mr. Carter, then—"
“You’ll consider me your boss?” Anya teased, a playful grin tugging at her
lips.
Eric looked a bit startled and squirmed, then glared at her. "You’re way too
confident, aren’t you? Focus on your job. I'm afraid you won’t be able to
say even a word when you stand in front of him."
Anya smiled, walking past him and patting his shoulder a few times,
enjoying the look on his face.
***
Dante and Anya waited in the hotel meeting room for more than half an
hour, but there was no sign of Danny Carter. This delay was starting to put
Dante in a foul mood.
“You did confirm the time with him, right?” he asked, his voice cool but
laced with irritation.
"Yes. I’m surprised too that he isn’t here yet." Anya adjusted her posture
nervously when a man entered, flanked by two others.
"Mr. Carter." Anya straightened immediately, followed by Dante.
The man smiled at them and stepped forward, shaking Dante’s hand. He
was short and stocky, with a weathered face that showed years of hard
work. His gaze shifted to Anya, and then froze, a look of surprise crossing
his face.
"You look so much like my sister-in-law," Danny muttered.
Anya froze, her heart pounding.
"No, how could that be, Mr. Carter? I’m just Mr. Kingsley’s secretary. How
could that be possible?" She gave a dry laugh, dying inside. ‘Uncle, please
don’t say anything more. Don’t reveal it!’ she could barely hold it together.
"Yeah, how could that be?" Danny nodded, his face cracking into a smile.
"My niece is also very pretty, like her mother. I haven’t met her yet, but I
will soon."
Everyone took a seat, and Danny looked at Dante. "Am I right, Dante?
You’ve seen her, haven’t you? When are you planning to marry Annie?"
Dante gave a polite smile. "Mr. Carter, let’s not talk about that for now."
At that, Danny’s expression darkened, his voice rising. “What do you
mean? Do you disagree?”
Dante’s expression remained unfazed as he looked Danny in the eye. "Mr.
Carter, I have nothing to do with Annie. I haven’t even met her before, and I
don’t plan on marrying her."
Danny stood up abruptly, his face turning red with anger. “You’re insulting
my family? How dare you?”
"This isn’t disrespect," Dante said calmly. "It’s just the truth. I have no
intention of marrying her."
"That is disrespectful!" Danny snapped, his voice rising. "How can you say
that when we offered you our most cherished daughter? She is the only heir
to our entire business. How dare you reject her?”
Anya, sensing the tension, let out a nervous laugh and tried to intervene.
“Please, Mr. Carter, let’s sit down. There’s no need to bring personal
feelings into business.”
"There’s not going to be any damn project anymore!" Danny gritted,
already turning to leave.
Anya looked at Dante in urgency, her face full of concern. "Aren’t you
going to stop him? Say something!"
"There’s nothing to say," Dante muttered, unaffected. "If he wants to end
the business over this, then so be it."
Anya took a deep breath, her face tense. Without a second thought, she
turned and ran out of the room, chasing after Danny.
“Mr. Carter!” she called, breathless as she spotted him heading for the
elevator. “Mr. Carter, please wait!”
He ignored her, continuing his stride, but his bodyguards stepped in,
blocking her path. Anya was growing desperate.
“Mr. Carter, I know you’re upset, but this project is important to both of
you. Don’t let it all go over something personal.”
Danny turned slowly, his eyes hard. “It doesn’t matter to me,” he said flatly,
his voice cold. “Nothing is more important than my family.”
His words touched her, but they also worried her.
"Mr. Carter, please reconsider. I can talk to Mr. Kingsley and see if we can
make the deal more favorable for you—"
“I said it doesn’t matter!” Danny snapped, cutting her off. “I get it, you’re
his employee, but I’m not sacrificing my niece’s dignity for some goddamn
project. Go back, woman. Don’t disturb me.”
Danny turned to leave again, but Anya became desperate. The bodyguards
tried to hold her back, but she fought her way through, rushing to stop him.
"Uncle!" she called out, her voice urgent.
Danny stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned to face her, confusion
and curiosity in his gaze.
“What did you just call me?”
"Uncle Danny," she said, taking a deep breath and leaning closer,
whispering the words. "It’s me. I’m Annie!"
Danny’s eyes widened in shock. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then, he
waved his bodyguards away and quickly moved toward her, pushing them
aside.
“You’re Annie? Are you serious?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief
as he took a step closer, eyes searching her face.
“Yes,” she said with a bright grin. “Hello.”
Danny’s face lit up, and without hesitation, he pulled her into a warm hug,
his laughter echoing softly in the room.
“No wonder I kept thinking you looked just like your mom,” he said,
pulling back to get another look at her. His eyes sparkled with emotion. “I
was planning to visit your dad’s place to finally meet you, but I’ve been
overseas. I only just got back today—and I couldn’t wait another second.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” Anya said softly, her heart swelling with gratitude.
“You turned down such a big deal… all because of me. I really appreciate
it.”
Danny frowned, but his smile remained warm. “You’re my child too. I’d
never do anything to put down my dearest niece.”
Anya pressed her lips together, touched. She had never experienced this
kind of unconditional love before—and now, ever since she reunited with
the Carters, it had surrounded her from all sides.
“Uncle, could you please sign that deal?” she asked gently. “I’m working at
his office and... I haven’t told Dante yet that I’m Annie. I just want to know
if he likes me for who I am before I tell him everything.”
“Oh!” Danny nodded, clearly impressed. “Smart girl. Very smart. Of course
we’ll sign the contract and close the deal. As long as you want it, it’s
yours.”
Anya’s smile bloomed across her face.
Danny reached out and patted her cheek lovingly, his thumb brushing just
below her eye. “I recognize that smile from when you were just a little
girl,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so happy we found you
again, Annie. It’s like a part of us came home.”
Anya’s throat tightened. “Thanks, Uncle,” she murmured, gripping his hand
where it cupped her cheek. The warmth of it grounded her—loving, sincere.
“Me too. But please... in front of Dante and the others, I’m Anya. Don’t
forget, okay?”
Danny nodded immediately. “Got it. My lips are sealed.”
Back in the meeting room, time ticked by. When Anya didn’t return, Dante
grew restless. He glanced at the door again and again, tension climbing his
spine.
With a sharp breath, he finally stood. “Where the hell did that girl go?” he
muttered under his breath, brushing past a server as he headed into the
hallway. “I told her there was no damn need to convince them…”
He strode out through the corridor—only to freeze mid-step.
There she was.
Anya stood with Danny, and the older man was gently patting her cheek.
The sight, so intimate and affectionate, made Dante stiffen.
His expression darkened immediately. ‘Why the hell is he touching her like
that?’ At once, he stormed toward them
Seeing him approach, Anya quickly stepped back from Danny, keeping a
respectful distance but still smiling.
“Everything alright?” Dante asked, his tone clipped, icy, his eyes fixed on
Danny.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” Anya replied calmly, tilting her head slightly
toward him. “Mr. Carter has agreed to sign the deal.”
Dante’s eyes shifted to her. Her smile instantly melted some of the tension
in him. She looked relaxed, not uncomfortable. A hint of relief crossing his
features.
Dante shifted his gaze to Danny. “Mr. Carter?”
Danny grinned, cool and composed. “Let’s sign the deal,” he said. “How
about right now? Then we can relax and enjoy the evening.”
“Sure,” Dante replied, still cautious. “May I ask—what changed your
mind?”
Danny’s eyes flicked toward Anya with a secretive glint. “That’s a secret,”
he said, giving her a playful wink.
Then, turning briskly, he walked back toward the room. “Let’s go wrap this
up.”
After that, the meeting went smoothly. Danny didn’t cause trouble, and
Dante handled everything with sharp efficiency. The contract was signed in
under twenty minutes.
Later, the table was filled with drinks, and the atmosphere turned relaxed.
The two men drank more than they should’ve, both ending up tipsy,
laughing like old friends. By the end of it, neither could walk straight.
“Come on,” Anya sighed, crouching to loop Dante’s arm around her
shoulders. “Let’s go.”
“Goodbye, Danny!” Dante slurred with a boyish grin, eyes glassy as Danny
was helped out by his bodyguards.
Danny waved back with a deep laugh. “We’ll meet soon! And bring more of
those fancy bottles next time—you’ve got a hell of a collection!”
“Done!” Dante shouted back, his voice trailing off.
Anya shook her head, half-exasperated, half-amused as she led Dante out to
the car.
Getting him into the passenger seat was a struggle. He leaned too heavily
against her, completely uncoordinated. She fumbled with the seatbelt, trying
to click it in.
As she leaned closer to secure the belt, his hand pinched her waist. Then,
without warning, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her neck.
She gasped, jerking back. “Hey!”
But he leaned in again, his tongue slithered like silk over her pulse point,
circling it teasingly before pressing gentle, hungry kisses down the hollow
of her neck. Each lick left a slick, burning trail, making her skin tingle with
need.
Her head tilted back instinctively, exposing more vulnerable flesh, her
heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Then his lips moved to her earlobe, nibbling it softly while his tongue
flicked teasing circles around the sensitive skin. She trembled at the
delicate, electric touch.
His hand slid beneath her top, fingers gliding over her waist like fire,
sending a delicious heat spiraling through her.
“Oh my God,” she muttered, flustered and breathless. “Why do you even
drink this much if you can’t handle it?”
“I can hold my liquor just fine,” Dante murmured, his voice deep and laced
with hunger. “But you… did you forget what you did to me? Maybe I
should remind you. Right now.”
The teasing sent a rush of heat to her face.
And just like that, memories slammed into her.
That night. That touch. The way he’d looked at her like she was the only
woman in the world. The way he had made her feel.
“Stop it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her pulse racing.
But Dante wasn’t listening.
His hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist as he yanked her forward—
pulling her halfway into the car before she could even think to resist. The
next second, she was fully in his lap, caged in by the hard lines of his chest
and arms.
And then his mouth crushed hers.
His tongue pushed deep, exploring every inch, drawing out a whimper from
her throat as he devoured her slowly, like he had all the time in the world to
ruin her. Tongue swirling, lips pulling, teeth grazing until her entire body
trembled against his.
When he broke the kiss, she barely had time to breathe before he shifted
down, lips brushing across her jaw and down her neck. His mouth was
everywhere—pressing hot, open kisses along her throat, tongue flicking
over her pulse point, dragging his teeth down to the curve where her neck
met her shoulder.
He made out with her neck like he was starved for it—sucking hard,
nipping just enough to leave his mark, only to soothe it with slow licks that
had her shivering in his lap. “I want you marked everywhere,” he muttered
against her skin.
Drunk on her scent, on the way she melted into him, he growled low and
possessive, and buried his face in her neck again. His tongue ran up the
column of her throat in long, deliberate strokes, dragging heat through her
entire body. He licked as if her skin were the sweetest thing he’d ever
tasted, groaning deep in his chest as if the flavor of her made him insane.
Then came the bites.
Hard, desperate ones. His teeth sank into the soft flesh beneath her ear, then
over the swell of her shoulder, just enough to make her gasp—and then
moan—when he kissed the sting away with wet, open-mouthed licks.
His lips latched onto the base of her throat, sucking hard, leaving no part
untouched. He moved with no rhythm, just hunger—pressing his mouth
everywhere, kissing like he didn’t care where he ended up, as long as it was
her.
He suckled on her skin like he couldn’t get enough, mouth hot and open,
tongue flicking wildly before he bit down again. Her skin was flushed, wet,
and glistening from his obsession. And still, he wasn’t done.
"You drive me insane," he rasped. "Look what you turn me into."
One hand gripped her jaw roughly, tilting her head for better access as he
attacked her collarbone with harsh, open-mouthed kisses, his tongue sliding
over her flesh between every mark he left. He growled again, drunk and
rough, pulling her closer into him, holding her like he wanted to crawl
under her skin and never leave.
She could feel the heat of him, the raggedness of his breath, the madness in
his touch.
His hands slipped between the buttons of her blouse, tearing them apart one
by one with impatient, jerky tugs until the fabric gaped open. Her chest rose
and fell with every breath, and Dante didn’t wait.
He buried his face between her breasts like a man deprived for too long,
letting out a guttural groan as his hands cupped both mounds with rough,
possessive reverence.
“God, these,” he rasped, voice thick and strained. His thumbs dragged over
her hardened peaks, watching her tremble. Then his mouth lowered—and
everything else disappeared.
He licked slow, searing trails across the curve of one breast, then the other.
His tongue circled each nipple in teasing laps before he sucked one into his
mouth—hard, wet, and hungry. The heat of his mouth made her arch into
him, her back taut as she gasped his name.
He switched between them without pause, sucking, licking, and biting
softly—only to soothe the sting with gentle strokes of his tongue. Her hands
flew to his shoulders, fingers clutching at his shirt, nails digging into his
skin with every pass of his mouth.
Then, groaning in pure need, he pressed both of her breasts together, palms
squeezing with forceful need, and took both swollen tips into his mouth at
once.
The sight of him—his mouth wide, tongue flicking back and forth rapidly,
devouring her like he couldn’t get enough—made her entire body shudder.
“Dante,” she cried out, voice cracking, head falling back as her thighs
clenched around him. But he was too far gone.
His hands were everywhere. Roaming, gripping, claiming. One slid down to
her skirt, pushing the soft fabric up over her hips until she was completely
exposed. He didn’t stop to admire—he just needed her bare.
He reached between them and yanked down her panties with one fluid pull,
dragging them down her legs and tossing them aside like they were in his
way.
She barely had time to register the rush of cool air on her bare thighs before
his hand caught both of her wrists and drew them behind her back. He held
them there in one strong hand, restrained but secure, while the other moved
to unzip his pants.
The sound of the zipper was loud in the charged air. He freed himself, thick
and hard, the tip already flushed with need. Then his hand found her waist
again, gripping her firmly.
“You’re going to ride me,” he said, voice hoarse with lust. “Just like this.
Hands behind you. I want to watch every second of you falling apart.”
He positioned her above him, and then guided her down, inch by slow inch.
She gasped—eyes wide, lips parting—as he filled her, deeper and deeper,
until he was seated fully inside her and her legs trembled from the stretch.
The first roll of her hips was tentative, shaky. But Dante wasn’t patient.
“Move,” he growled, fingers tightening around her waist.
She did.
She rocked against him, slow at first, the drag of his length inside her
making her cry out with every thrust. Her breathing turned ragged. Her
head fell forward. But he wasn’t done.
His grip on her hips hardened, taking control. He thrust up into her in
rhythm, rougher now, faster, holding her tight as she rode him with messy,
erratic need. Her moans bounced around the car, and his were low, primal,
hot against her skin as he whispered filth into her ear.
Again.
And again.
Each round melted into the next, the build-up turning frantic—her body
clenching around him, trembling with every climax, only for him to keep
going. Her skin slick with sweat, her thighs shaking uncontrollably, she
could barely hold herself upright. Her wrists still pinned behind her back,
her body moved only because he willed it to.
He was relentless.
A growl rumbled from his chest as he slammed up into her one final time,
biting down on her shoulder to muffle his groan as he spilled deep inside
her—his body shuddering beneath hers.
And still, he held her close, his breath hot against her neck.
Then he switched positions—lifting her like she weighed nothing and
turning her around, pressing her chest against the hard material of the car
while he took her from behind. The leather squeaked under her grip, her
body trembling as he filled her again, deeper this time. His hand tangled in
her hair, yanking her head back as he thrust into her hard, the sound of skin
meeting skin echoing through the dark car.
“Still breathing?” he growled in her ear, voice thick with lust and a
dangerous edge of amusement. “Not for long.”
She couldn’t answer. Could barely think.
He didn’t let up—held her hips firm and pounded into her with a raw
desperation that made her legs shake. One hand slid around to rub her until
she was sobbing into the dashboard, coming again and again until her knees
buckled. But he didn’t stop. He pulled her back into his lap and forced her
to ride him once more, his hands guiding her rhythm, his mouth glued to
her skin, biting her shoulder, sucking the curve of her collarbone like he
was drunk on her taste.
More rounds followed—fast, rough, almost reckless.
By the end of it, her body collapsed against him, chest heaving, skin
burning.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Could barely form a thought.
And still, Dante held her—his arms wrapped around her back, one hand
gently brushing along the curve of her thigh as if she wasn’t already
shaking from exhaustion.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 13 A GIFT
The car pulled up in front of Kingsley Manor. Hesitating, she opened the
car door and tried to get Dante out, but he was barely awake, swaying with
every step.
There was no one around to help. No guards in sight. No house staff waiting
at the door. She had no choice.
She stepped out and moved to his side, opening the door. With a deep
breath, she wrapped his arm around her shoulder again and quietly led him
inside. Step by step, they made their way up the grand staircase. She pushed
open his bedroom door and helped lower him onto the bed.
She reached for the blanket to cover him.
And froze.
A shadow stretched across the floor.
Anya looked up.
Janet stood in the doorway, arms crossed, lips thin, her eyes blazing with
fury.
“Come out. Now.”
Her voice was low but sharp as a knife.
Anya swallowed and nodded, following Janet out the door.
They descended the stairs in silence. Janet’s heels clicked sharply on each
step, like gunshots in the quiet.
Once they reached the marble-floored hallway, Janet spun around. Her eyes
flashed with fury, voice dropping to a hiss.
“I told you,” she seethed. “Never set foot in this house again. And don’t
even think about seducing him. Did I not make myself clear?”
Anya met her glare, back straight, voice calm despite the tremble in her
stomach. “I’m his employee, Miss Kingsley. He drank too much tonight. I
only came to drop my boss home. That’s it.”
“As if!” Janet snapped, her face twisted with fury. “I warned you not to go
near him! But you still did! And now you’re back in my house like nothing
happened? Didn’t I teach you a good enough lesson last time?” Her voice
rose, trembling with rage. “What the hell do you want from my son?”
Her eyes blazed as she stepped closer, every word like venom. “I told you—
there’s never going to be anything between you and Dante. Don’t you get
it? He’s already engaged to Annie Carter! How could you possibly compare
to her?”
Anya’s pulse roared in her ears, but she kept her expression calm. “I don’t
need to compare myself to anyone, Mrs. Kingsley,” she said evenly. “I’ve
already said—I’m not here for money or to seduce anyone. If anything,
maybe instead of forcing a girl onto your son, you should respect his choice
about who he wants to marry.”
That struck a nerve.
Janet’s face contorted with rage. “You’re lecturing me now?” she spat. “I
know girls like you. Manipulative. Calculating. Never satisfied. Should I
teach you a real lesson this time so you finally understand your place?”
Without warning, Janet lunged forward, hand raised, ready to slap Anya
across the face.
“Mom! What the hell are you doing?”
Dante’s voice cut through the hallway like a blade. He stormed down the
stairs, clearly still drunk, but his expression was deadly serious. His eyes
burned with anger as he stepped in front of Anya, shielding her with his
body.
“No one touches her. Not even you. Not now. Not ever,” he growled.
Janet froze, her hand suspended in the air, eyes wide.
“You’re defending that girl?” she cried out, her voice shrill with disbelief.
“Have you lost your mind? Did you forget what your father told you before
he died? He told you to listen to me! You promised to marry Annie—”
“I never promised to marry her,” Dante said coldly. “You begged me to
meet her. I did. But she never showed up. That was your plan, not mine. It
ends there.”
Janet’s face twisted. “She was sick! You think that means anything? You
expect her to be perfect all the time? She’s Annie Carter! She can have
tantrums if she wants to! You’re still going to meet her again—and you’ll
marry her.”
Without a word, Anya slipped her hand from Dante’s grasp and stepped
back.
Dante’s gaze snapped to her. He immediately frowned, his jaw clenched.
“Where are you going?”
He turned back to Janet. His voice was a hoarse growl. “For the record—
I’m going to reject Annie the moment I see her. I will never marry her.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Janet snapped. “You just need time with Annie.
If you met her properly, you'd fall in love with her. She’s everything you
need!”
“I said no!” Dante roared, the sound vibrating through the hall. “I know
what I want. And it’s not her.” His temples throbbed, the alcohol making his
head swim, but his voice was clear. “Stop trying to control my life!”
A beat of silence.
Just then, another voice echoed from the hall.
“What’s all this noise?”
Griffin stepped into the hall, his hair gleaming under the chandelier. His
cane tapped once on the marble floor before his gaze landed on Anya, and
softened.
“Anya… you came back,” he said gently.
She offered him a faint smile.
Griffin hurried over, gently taking her hands in his. “Are you okay? Did you
eat anything? Do you need help with anything?” His concern was written
all over his face.
“I’m fine, Grandpa,” she said softly. “I have a place. I’m staying with a
friend.”
“That’s good.” Griffin smiled warmly. “But if you ever need anything, you
come to me. I’ll take care of you.”
“Yes, Grandpa,” she whispered. Then, glancing at Dante, she added, “I
should go now. Please take care of yourself, and Dante. He’s still drunk.”
With that, she turned and walked out quietly, the door closing behind her.
Griffin watched her leave with a worried expression. Dante’s shoulders
sagged, the fire in his eyes dimming as he stared at the door she disappeared
through.
Then Griffin muttered, almost to himself, “I told you to get together with
Anya when your mother wasn’t here. You didn’t listen. If you had married
her back then, Janet wouldn’t be trying to shove someone else down your
throat.”
Janet’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Dad?! How can you say that?
How can you let him marry her? She has nothing! She’s practically
homeless! And now you’re comparing her to Charles’ daughter?”
Griffin turned slowly to her, eyes like steel. “If you’re so obsessed with
marrying into a rich family, why don’t you get married and move out? Stop
sacrificing your son’s happiness just to satisfy your own damn pride, Janet.”
Janet’s face flushed red with fury. “How can you say something like that to
me?!”
“Grandpa, let’s go. I’ll take you to your room,” Dante said quietly, stepping
in before it escalated further.
He moved to Griffin’s side, supporting him gently as they turned toward the
stairs.
Behind them, Janet raged on. “You’re letting him throw his life away! He
doesn’t understand what he’s doing! You’re supposed to guide him, not
spoil him! How can you say something so cruel—!”
But neither man looked back.
They disappeared upstairs, leaving Janet alone—shaking with rage.
***
Danny leaned back in his chair, a nostalgic smile on his face. “I can’t even
remember the last time Charles and I sat like this. It’s been years.”
He had come home the night before, stayed for dinner, and was still here the
next day—spending time not just with Charles, but especially with Anya.
“Anya’s birthday is coming up,” Danny said, glancing warmly around the
table. “Brother, what have you planned? I could find a hotel, we’ll host a
party!”
“Yeah, this one needs to be big,” Luca added. “Since Anya came back, we
haven’t even celebrated her return.”
Charles nodded instantly. “Of course. Anya, whatever you want, you’ll have
it. How about we book the Emperor Hotel for the whole day and night?
Invite your friends if you have any, and we’ll invite some other guests too.”
“No, dad,” Anya said quickly, cutting into their excited planning. “Please,
not this time. I don’t want a big party. I don’t want anyone to know who I
really am yet.”
Charles’s face fell. His tone turned solemn. “That’s a hard thing to hear,
Anya. You’re my daughter. After all these years, I finally have you back—
and I still can’t introduce you to the world?”
“Yeah,” Danny said, his brows drawn together. “Who cares what anyone
else thinks? You’re ours—you mean everything to us. And if anyone even
tries to hurt you, they’ll regret it. No one lays a finger on you. Ever.”
“I’m sorry, Dad… Uncle,” Anya said softly. “Just give me a little more
time. I need to see if the Kingsleys accept me for who I am, without
knowing where I come from. If they’re just chasing your money, I don’t
want any part of it. I want to be sure they see me as family, not as some
business link.”
“But, Anya—” Charles began, concern flashing in his eyes.
“No, Dad,” she interrupted gently. “What if one day the business is gone?
What if I’m no longer useful to them? I don’t want to be kicked out of that
house because there was never any real love to begin with. I need to be sure
Dante wants to marry me because he loves me—not because of what he
might gain.”
“She’s right,” Luca said quietly, his eyes meeting hers with understanding.
“Do what feels right. You’re the one who’ll live with him. Your decision
matters most.”
Charles exhaled heavily and gave a slow nod. “Alright. I’ve waited so long
to have you back. I can wait a little longer.”
“I’m dying to tell everyone, though,” Danny groaned, a helpless smile
tugging at his lips. “But how can I say no to my niece?”
Everyone chuckled.
“Alright then,” Danny said, his voice warm with affection. “Tell me what
you want for your birthday. I want you to have the best of everything.
Anything you ask for—just name it.”
“I don’t want anything, Uncle,” Anya replied with a gentle smile. “I already
have you, Dad, and Luca. I’m happier than I’ve been in years. What more
could I possibly want?”
“Nope, that’s not going to work,” Danny said with mock sternness. “Let it
be. There’s a live auction coming up at the Emperor Hotel. I’ll go and find
something special. From next year, you’ll look forward to your uncle’s gifts
every year.”
Anya laughed. “Alright then. I’ll look forward to it.”
“Good girl,” Danny grinned, handing her a sweet across the table. Anya
took it with a grateful grin.
“Uncle, can I come with you?” Luca asked eagerly.
“Of course,” he nodded. “You and I will go together.”
***
Meanwhile, at the Fox residence, the family was gathered around the dining
table.
“Our Zara is going to have the most unforgettable birthday in the city!”
Valentina gushed. “I want to host the biggest, most glamorous party and
invite the most influential people. Everyone needs to see how beautiful my
daughter is. And I’ll make sure to invite a few eligible bachelors too—
maybe we’ll find you someone special.”
“Yes! And Mom, I don’t want a boring birthday,” Zara said dramatically. “I
want to book an entire flight. I’ll invite a few of my overseas contacts.”
“Are they your friends?” Valentina asked, one brow arched.
“Not really. Just some people I know... but imagine how amazing it’ll look
when people see we have many international guests. Everyone will think
we’re even more rich and important.”
Valentina nodded. “Alright then. How about we also invite the Kingsleys?
We’re not exactly close, but their name’s been in every headline lately—
especially that Dante Kingsley. If he agrees to come, maybe we could even
talk about marriage. You’d be at the top of society, darling.”
“Yes, yes! Please!” Zara clapped, her heart racing. She’d seen Dante in
magazines—tall, powerful, devastatingly handsome—and read about his
immense wealth. Just the thought of standing beside him made her chest
flutter.
‘If I marry him, I’ll be the richest wife in the country,’ she thought smugly.
‘Everyone will look up to me.’
“Wait, I’ll give him a call,” Valentina said, grabbing her phone confidently.
“I got it from a woman I met at a party recently—just in case. Good thing I
did.”
The phone rang only a few times before a deep, calm voice answered.
“Yes?”
Zara’s breath caught in her throat. Even his voice was magnetic. Cold.
Commanding.
Her breath hitched. ‘This man… I want him.’
“Dante, this is Mrs. Valentina Fox,” she said sweetly, keeping her voice
smooth and poised.
"Who?" Dante’s voice came from the other side of the line, sounding
confused.
Valentina's smile faltered slightly. She let out an awkward laugh before
answering. "Do you know James Fox? He's your grandpa's friend. I'm his
daughter-in-law."
"Oh, right." Dante’s voice hardened instantly. It was no longer soft, no
longer polite—and that shift made Valentina straighten, her posture
suddenly stiff, her expression faltering.
"I called you, Dante—"
"It’s Mr. Kingsley," he muttered, cutting her off coldly.
Valentina blinked, stunned. The air around her bristled with tension. Still,
she forced herself to swallow the insult, even though her fists clenched
tightly around the phone. "There's a party soon. We're celebrating my
daughter’s birthday. My daughter, Zara? It’s her birthday, so I wanted to
invite you to come this Sunday."
"Isn’t it Anya’s birthday as well?" Dante asked, his voice calm, but razor-
sharp.
Valentina’s face dropped. Her voice turned sour, clipped with bitterness.
"Yeah. Anya and my daughter Zara have the same birthday." She paused,
her tone shifting from stiff to suspicious. "You know Anya?"
"Yes, she is my secretary. Since it’s her birthday on Sunday, I won’t be
attending your party. I’ll be celebrating with her.”
“But—”
Before she could finish, the call ended. The line went dead. Valentina sat
frozen, her face twisted in fury. Her nostrils flared, and fury surged through
her as she flung the phone onto the table with a sharp exhale.
She stared at her phone in disbelief. Then slowly, her expression twisted.
Her nostrils flared, and fury surged through her as she flung the phone onto
the couch with a sharp exhale. "That little bitch!" she snapped. Her voice
rose in volume, echoing through the room.
Zara, seated nearby, looked up. Her mother’s face was red with rage.
"How the hell… How can she? Zara!" Valentina barked. "That bitch. She’s
already wrapped herself around Dante. He wouldn’t even come to your
birthday party! Did you hear how he spoke to me? That rudeness, that
disrespect—because of her! She’s hooked up with him already, hasn’t she?"
Zara’s face darkened, and color flushed into her cheeks. "How’s that
possible?" she whispered, more to herself than anyone. Her voice trembled,
disbelief laced with jealousy. "How can he accept someone like her? How
can she get someone like Dante?"
***
"What would be the best gift for a woman?" Dante asked calmly, phone
pressed to his ear.
Triston, on the other end, blinked. "For a woman…?" He paused, thinking.
"For moms, usually jewelry or luxury bags. You don’t have to pick them
yourself—just pick something expensive, and she’ll love it."
“What if I want to pick it personally?”
Triston was quiet for a beat. “Then make sure it’s something thoughtful and
expensive. The more it costs, the more it shows you care. But wait—why
don’t you ask Anya? She’s a girl. She’ll know better what kind of gifts
women like."
Dante gave a low hum of thought. "Alright." He hung up without another
word.
Across town, Triston stared at his phone. A strange flicker crossed his face.
‘He wants a gift for a woman? Something he’s going to buy personally?’
The realization hit him hard, jerking him upright in his chair. "No way... Is
it for Anya?"
Within the hour, Triston was striding into Kingsley Corporation’s glassy
skyscraper. He bypassed the front desk and went straight to the upper floor.
Before he could knock on Dante’s office door, he spotted Anya walking to
her desk.
Without thinking, he grabbed her arm. "Anya, wait up."
Anya turned, startled, then smiled lightly. "Triston?" she said, brows raised
in surprise.
"So you do remember me. Sharp memory."
"Thanks," she replied casually, pulling her arm back. But Triston didn’t let
her go just yet.
Triston gave her a long look. “Tell me something…”
"What?"
“Is your birthday coming up?”
She blinked. "...Yeah. How did you know?"
Triston tilted his head, lips curving into a slow smirk. "No reason. Just…
expect something nice from Dante soon. Something really, really nice."
Anya’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise glinting in them.
"Really?"
Before Triston could say more, Dante appeared around the corner. His sharp
eyes swept over them and he walked up at once.
"What are you two talking about?"
Triston grinned. "A gift."
Dante’s jaw flexed.
He pointed at Anya. "Go back to your desk." Then to Triston, "You. In my
office."
Anya nodded quickly and walked off. Triston followed Dante into his
office, the door shutting behind them.
Once inside the office, Dante slammed the door shut behind them and
walked straight to his desk.
Triston sank into the chair opposite him, lounging casually. "So," he began,
watching Dante closely, "you’re really going to give that precious, hand-
picked, most expensive gift to Anya?"
Dante didn’t flinch. "Yeah."
Triston straightened. "You know people will notice, right? They’ll know it’s
from you. And don’t forget—your engagement to that Carter girl is still
there. Your mom’s expecting it. Do you really think she’ll keep quiet if she
finds out?"
Dante leaned back slowly. "Do I look like someone who takes orders from
my mother? If I can’t even choose the woman I want, what kind of man
would I be?"
Triston stared at him, stunned. “You’re going against Janet’s plans?”
There was a long pause. Then Dante leaned forward slightly, his expression
hardening.
“Don’t get involved.” His eyes locked on Triston’s with unnerving clarity.
“I’ll handle everything."
***
Anya stepped into the auction house. The palace was bright with lights and
full of people talking and laughing. Waiters walked around with drinks, and
the theme was Egyptian—there were men dressed in gold cuffs and cloth
wraps, offering drinks to guests. In the middle of the large room was a
stage, ready for the auction to begin.
Anya, wearing a black, backless gown, stood beside Dante, who wore a
sharp suit that matched. They had come straight from the office.
Earlier, Dante had taken her shopping and made her try on outfit after outfit
until he was happy with this one. She shivered as she remembered the way
his eyes had followed her every move while she changed—more interested
in watching her undress than in how the dresses looked on her.
But then Anya’s feet came to an abrupt halt as her gaze fell on the name of
the auction in bold gold letters.
Emperors' Auction.
Her breath caught in shock. ‘Isn't this the auction Uncle and Luca were
supposed to attend?’ She shuddered, and panic immediately set in. ‘But I’m
already here... there's no way to escape now.’
Before she could even think of a way out, Dante was at her side, gripping
her hand firmly and pulling her inside.
"Dante, I don’t need any gifts," she protested, trying to pull away, her voice
soft but filled with a desperate plea. "Why don’t we just go back?"
He frowned at her. "That's not going to happen. We're already here. Just
look at everything and tell me what you like. If you want it all, I can get it
for you. Just make a choice."
"No, I really don't need it. Trust me, please. Let's just go back—"
"Not happening," Dante repeated, his grip tightening on her hand as he led
her deeper into the crowded hall.
Anya’s mind raced. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit.’ She gritted her teeth, trying to
suppress her panic as they moved forward.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 14 JUST BE
MINE?
As they entered, people around them began to take notice. Dante’s presence
was rare, and now seeing him at an auction without his bodyguards made
people even more curious. His every step seemed to draw attention, and
whispers filled the air, trying to figure out why he was here.
They reached the VIP seating area, and Anya couldn’t help but glance
around nervously. A few seats away, she spotted Luca and Danny. Their
eyes immediately landed on her, and she quickly widened her eyes,
discreetly signaling them to act like they didn't recognize her.
Dante noticed them, he gave Danny a small nod in recognition. Danny
returned it.
Thankfully, Dante didn’t seem to notice that Luca and Danny were actually
staring at her. He was too focused on the event.
As the auction began, it started with some lower-priced items. The crowd
was casually bidding, but as the stakes grew higher, the tension in the room
also intensified. Eventually, the prices soared into the millions.
Then, the auction slowed when a ruby ring was presented.
“This ring was designed by the prestigious luxury house Velarne Jewels,”
the auctioneer announced, as a ripple of excitement moved through the
crowd. “Owning it today means owning a piece that could increase in value
tenfold within a year.”
"I should get it. The return on this investment is huge," one bidder
whispered.
"It's so expensive. I don't think many people will bid," another murmured.
"The starting price is already twenty million dollars."
“That’s gorgeous,” Anya whispered under her breath, staring at the ring in
awe.
At once, Dante turned to her.
“You like rubies, don’t you?” he asked, his voice low but steady. "The
necklace you were wearing the other day was ruby too."
"Yeah, but—" She started to protest, but he was already raising his hand to
place a bid.
“Thirty million,” Dante called out, his voice cutting through the room.
Anya gasped, her heart racing. “No, Dante, that’s too expensive!” She
reached for his hand, trying to stop him. “You don’t have to buy it for me.”
"It doesn't matter." He frowned. “This is a birthday gift for you. Won’t you
accept it?"
"I can’t accept it." Her voice softened. “Dante, leave it. I don’t need it.”
"Forty million," another voice rang out across the auction. Heads turned as
all eyes searched for the bidder. It was Luca.
Dante’s gaze snapped to Luca, his eyes narrowing. Without a second
thought, he raised the bid again. "Fifty million."
The bidding war between the two men escalated, each of them bidding
higher and higher.
"Eighty million," the auctioneer called.
"A hundred million," Dante bid, his voice calm, unbothered.
Anya couldn’t take it anymore. "Goddamn it," she hissed, her hands flying
to grab his arm. "Leave it. Please, come with me." She stood up, trying to
pull him away from the auction.
“Anya, sit down. Where are you going?” Dante’s eyes locked onto her.
"Dante, stop bidding," she pleaded. "I don’t want the ring. Don’t worry
about it."
But Dante remained unmoved. "Sit down. I’m getting you your gift."
In a moment of desperation, Anya snatched the bidding card from his hand,
pulling him out of the auction room with all her strength.
Dante had no choice but to follow, though a deep scowl darkened his face.
"It doesn’t matter what gift you give me," Anya said quickly, but softly, her
voice carrying a trace of frustration. "The price doesn’t matter at all, I
promise."
Dante turned his head, his eyes flicking to Luca, who was still watching
them intently. As Anya pulled him toward the exit, Luca’s gaze never left
her, and he raised his bid one last time, the number jumping to one hundred
and fifty million just as they were about to leave the hall.
Anya pulled him toward the exit, her hand gripping his as they neared his
car. Before she could even catch her breath, grabbed her shoulders, spinning
her around and pinning her against the side of the car. His gaze was intense,
burning into her as he leaned down, his voice low and dangerous.
“Anya, do you like me?”
She froze, stunned.
"Do you like me? Love me?" he repeated, his voice low, almost possessive.
Anya didn’t know how to respond. "What’s going on? Why are you acting
like this today?"
Dante’s glare intensified as his mind replayed Luca’s every move. He’d
noticed the way Luca had kept his eyes on Anya since they entered the
auction. The man hadn’t looked at him once, not even when Dante had
raised the bid. But the moment Luca saw him bidding for the ring, he
immediately jumped in, trying to match Dante’s offer. As if he was waiting
to see what Anya would choose, then swooping in with his own bid.
It was well-known that Luca Stanson was one of the richest men in the
country. Dante had always known about Luca's influence and his
partnership with Mr. Carter, but the way Luca looked at Anya made Dante’s
chest tighten so painfully that he could barely breathe.
He couldn't pinpoint the emotion, but the mere thought of that bastard
looking at Anya like that again stirred something dark in him—a consuming
rage that twisted inside him.
"Answer me," Dante said, his voice low and hard. "Tell me... Do you like
me?"
“Why are you suddenly asking me that?” Anya asked, her brow furrowed.
His grip on her tightened, pulling her closer. His eyes burned into hers, as if
he was trying to search her soul. “I will never marry into Carters’. You’re
the one I want to marry, Anya.”
Anya stiffened, her heart pounding in her chest. Dante's words hit her like a
cold splash of water, and for a moment, she felt something inside her break.
‘What he means is, he's trying to use me as a shield for his arranged
marriage…’ Her face fell, and the sadness that swept over her was deep,
darkening her expression. ‘Is that all I am to him? A shield for his arranged
marriage?’
She looked up at him, meeting his gaze directly. Her lips quivered slightly
as she forced a smile, though it hurt. "Give me some time," she said softly,
her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll tell you after my birthday. It’s just
two days away. You won’t have to wait much longer."
Dante’s jaw clenched at her words. His eyes darkened, and his grip on her
tightened even more.
He wanted her for himself. The very thought that she might be trying to
avoid it, that she might not feel the same way, was tearing him apart. The
burn in his chest was unbearable, but he couldn’t stop it.
He fought to keep his emotions in check but failed. He looked away, trying
to regain control, when her fingers gently touched his cheek. She pulled his
face down to look into her eyes, a teasing smile on her lips.
“What if you regret confessing to me after seeing Annie?” she asked, her
voice playful yet soft. "She might be prettier, richer, and the perfect match
for you."
Dante’s fingers slid from her forehead down to her ear, tucking a stray lock
of hair behind it. He smiled, but it was a smile full of tenderness and
something deeper. “Do you really think I haven’t seen all kinds of women?”
he murmured, his lips just inches from hers. “I’ve seen a million women in
my life, but the only one I’ve ever wanted more than my next damn
breath… is you.”
Anya’s breath caught in her throat, and she felt her entire body flush with
warmth. Her grip on his shirt tightened, her body pressed against his, unable
to move, unable to breathe properly under the intensity of his gaze and
touch. His fingers moved from her face to the back of her neck, pulling her
even closer.
“When did you first feel attracted to me?” she asked, her eyes glinting
softly with curiosity.
Dante’s face tightened as if the question caught him off guard. He shook his
head, his voice soft but filled with truth. “I don’t exactly remember,” he
murmured, the memory clouded in time. “But I think it was the very first
day I saw you. You had tears in your eyes. I wanted to pull you to myself
and stop you from hurting, no matter what it took.”
Anya’s heart fluttered at his words. “Alright then,” she said with a teasing
grin. “I’ll also tell you when I started liking you... Ever since I saw you, I
started feeling attracted to you.”
A small laugh escaped Dante’s lips. “Is that before you saw me naked, or
after I was clothed?”
She laughed lightly, her fingers tightening around his waist. “Definitely
because of your naked body.”
Dante’s smile faded slowly, and his expression darkened.
He grabbed her tighter, his fingers digging into her waist as his lips crashed
onto hers with a fierce urgency that stole her breath away. Licking, sucking,
biting in heated strokes that left her trembling.
His tongue flicked against her lower lip, coaxing a soft, needy moan from
deep inside her. “Ahh...” she gasped, her body pressing closer, desperate for
more.
Without breaking the kiss, his mouth trailed down her jawline, leaving a
scorching path of wet kisses and teasing flicks of his tongue along her neck.
“Hahhh...” she whimpered, her head falling back as his warm breath
mingled with the slick trail his tongue left behind. Each lick sent jolts of
heat through her veins, making her skin tingle and her heart pound like a
wild drum.
He bit gently at the sensitive skin just below her ear, his teeth grazing and
nibbling in a deliciously cruel way, and she shivered, caught between
pleasure and need.
Her breaths came fast, shallow, unable to catch up as he claimed every inch
of her neck with ravenous hunger, leaving her gasping.
Just then, Luca stepped out of the auction room, the ruby ring still in his
hand. His eyes scanned the scene, stopping when he saw Dante and Anya.
Dante had his arms wrapped tightly around Anya, and they were kissing,
completely absorbed in each other. Luca’s grip on the ring tightened, his
face darkening with jealousy.
He had bought the ring for her birthday, for her. But now, seeing this, his
chest burned with a fierce, unrelenting anger. He wanted to look away, but
his gaze remained fixed on Anya.
‘Why can’t you just be mine?’ His heart ached as the pain surged through
him. ‘I would give you anything, everything. Just come to me and be mine.’
But those words were never spoken, lost in the silent air of the night.
Eventually, Luca turned and walked away, unable to bear the sight.
***
“Here.” Luca offered a small box to Anya, his smile warm and affectionate
as they sat in a lavish restaurant. They were seated on opposite sides of the
table, but his eyes never left her face.
“Happy birthday, Annie,” Luca said, his voice soft.
The restaurant was on the top floor of Max Mall, for the richest guests only.
Big windows showed the bright city lights. Soft, warm lights hung from the
ceiling, shining on the shiny marble floor.
Tables were covered with clean white cloths, set with crystal glasses and
fine plates. Soft velvet chairs made sitting comfortable and private. Quiet
classical music played softly.
Anya’s eyes lit up as she smiled, accepting the box. She opened it, and her
gasp echoed in the quiet of the room. Inside the box was the ring from the
auction the day before.
"This... this is the ring from yesterday?" she asked, her voice filled with
surprise.
Luca’s smile grew wider as he watched her reaction. "Yes. Do you like it?"
Anya hesitated, her fingers brushing the velvet box before she slid it back
across the table. “I can’t take this,” she said quietly. “It’s way too precious.”
Luca’s brows furrowed, the lightheartedness in his gaze quickly replaced
with confusion and a touch of hurt. “It’s your birthday gift. Why not?”
His frown made her smile, despite herself. There was something
endearingly stubborn about Luca—like a child pouting when things didn’t
go his way. She chuckled, shaking her head.
Her laugh was soft but teasing. "No, Luca. I mean, gift me something
reasonable—not something you won in the most expensive auction of the
year. I can’t take it."
“You have to take it,” he insisted. “Or I’ll assume you don’t like me. That
would be very tragic for my ego.”
She shot him a playful glare. "You're blackmailing me now?"
“How can I not like you?” she murmured, her playful tone fading. Her eyes
held a soft, aching sincerity now. “Don’t do this, please.”
But Luca only grinned at her, his fingers gently pushing the box back to her
again. “I don’t care,” he said, his voice softer than before. “It’s a gift. Don’t
refuse it. When it’s my birthday, I’ll accept whatever you give me without
question. I’m a good boy like that.”
Anya couldn’t help but snicker.
She sighed, then reluctantly picked up the ring, holding the box against her
chest. “Thank you so much. I love my gift a lot.”
Luca grinned at her, satisfied.
She held the ring in her hand, admiring the pretty little thing.
Luca watched her quietly, then said after a moment, trying to sound casual,
“How’s it going with Dante?”
Just then, the waiter arrived with two steaming cups of coffee, placing them
gently on the table. “Thanks,” Luca muttered without looking up, his gaze
fixed on Anya.
Anya’s eyes flickered to him, a hint of nervousness behind her smile. "He
proposed to me last night." Her voice lit up, and the bright smile that
followed made Luca’s heart tighten painfully.
His heart clenched. That was the smile he’d always wanted for himself. But
it didn’t belong to him.
‘I wish it was me you loved, Anya,’ he thought, but the words remained
stuck behind the walls of restraint he’d built for her sake. He felt the sting
of jealousy twist through him, but he buried it deep, forcing a smile.
"Are you sure he’s going to marry you?" Luca asked, his tone careful but
laced with concern. "You haven’t even revealed to him yet that you are
Annie. You’ve only known each other for a few months. Maybe you should
take some time and not rush into it."
Anya’s fingers wrapped around the coffee cup, her eyes meeting his without
hesitation. “He loves me, and that’s all that matters,” she said with
conviction, as if that alone could shield her from every possible storm.
Luca nodded slowly, though his lips curved into a bittersweet smile.
"Alright then. But after your marriage, are you going to hand over your
family business to him to manage?"
"Of course not," she replied, a frown forming on her face. "It’s mine. My
dad wants me to take care of it, so I will. I won’t give it to him. But I also
know that Dante isn’t that type of person. He doesn’t want any of it."
Luca took a slow breath, trying to mask the hurt he felt.
“If that’s what you believe,” Luca said gently, reaching across the table to
brush her hair away from her face. His hand lingered, fingers resting lightly
on her head, protective and affectionate. “I just want you to live a happy
life, Anya. You’ve already endured too much. From now on, the only thing
you should worry about is which shoes to match with your bag.”
Anya giggled, the tension in her shoulders easing. “I’m sure I will. With
Dad, you, and Uncle Danny always watching over me, what could go
wrong? I’ll just call you, and you'll show up like a knight in shining armor,
won’t you?”
Luca raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "Do you
even need to ask?"
Anya grinned brightly, and for a second, the warmth between them felt like
something that belonged in another lifetime.
But just outside the restaurant space, hidden behind a row of large potted
plants and designer mannequins, Zara paused in her tracks. Her arms were
loaded with glossy shopping bags, but they nearly slipped from her grasp
when she caught sight of the scene.
Her gaze zeroed in on Luca’s hand resting so delicately on Anya’s head, the
way his fingers moved tenderly, almost like a lover’s touch. The way Anya
was smiling, relaxed and radiant, made her chest tighten with rage.
"Is this bitch two-timing?" she muttered under her breath. "Who is that
guy?"
Zara started digging her phone out of her purse. She raised it quickly, the
camera clicking softly as she snapped several photos of them from behind
the plants, her jealousy flaring as she looked at the couple, her heart burning
with resentment.
“What a bitch,” she muttered under her breath. “Seducing Dante wasn’t
enough? Now she’s got another man fawning over her like a puppy?”
She scoffed, her lips curling into a cruel sneer. “She’s not even trying to
hide it. A private booth? Really? If I hadn’t walked this way, I wouldn’t
have caught her red-handed.”
Lowering the phone, Zara’s eyes darkened with fury.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she whispered to herself, venom lacing her voice.
“I’m not going to let you live a happy little life, you two-faced slut. You’ll
pay for this.”
***
"Mr. Charles Carter, owner of Carter Diamonds, has officially handed over
his billion-dollar empire to his daughter!"
"The billionaire magnate has finally crowned his long-lost daughter as the
sole heir to his vast business empire!"
The news flashed across every channel. Anchors repeated the same line
again and again—this was the breaking news of the day.
"On her birthday, Charles Carter gave his daughter the most extravagant gift
any parent has ever given: full ownership of his billion-dollar empire,
effective immediately."
Janet sat frozen on the couch, her eyes glued to the screen. Her hands
trembled as she clutched the tablet tighter, her excitement bubbling
dangerously close to obsession.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
“I have to act fast,” she whispered under her breath. Her voice was urgent,
low, almost panicked. “Before someone else snatches that girl away, I have
to make sure she marries Dante. If she slips out of my hands now… there
won’t be another chance like this.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 15 MARRY HIM
Without wasting another second, Janet grabbed her phone and dialed
Charles’ number. It rang once… twice… three times. Then, finally, the
voice on the other end answered.
“Hello, Janet,” Charles’s deep voice came from the other end.
She cleared her throat, masking her excitement with honeyed sweetness.
“Hello, Charles! How are you? How’s your health?” she asked in a sickly
sweet tone, her fingers twitching with anticipation as she tried to control the
eagerness in her voice.
“I’m well. Just busy with work,” he replied casually. “And you? How have
you been?”
“I was just watching the news,” Janet said cautiously, her eyes flicking to
the muted television screen. “Is it true? Did you really hand the company
over to Annie?”
“Yes. It’s true,” Charles replied calmly. “I gave it to her as a birthday gift.
I’m getting old, and it’s time my child starts taking responsibility.”
“Of course,” Janet replied immediately, nodding. “We old folks can’t take
that kind of pressure after working our whole lives. It’s only right for the
younger generation to take over and continue the legacy. I think you made
the right decision giving it to her now—it’ll be great for her future.”
Her thoughts were racing even as she spoke calmly.
‘She’s still young,’ Janet thought, heart thudding with anticipation. ‘If
Dante marries her now, he’ll take over the company easily. That girl came
from some orphanage, didn't she? What could she possibly know about
business or deals?’
Janet’s lips curled into a pleased smile, her eyes gleaming.
‘My son will run everything. She can live comfortably at home. What else
would she need? Dante will be praised everywhere—for marrying into
wealth and for helping his father-in-law manage the company. It’s a win-
win.’
Clearing her throat to hide the eagerness in her voice, Janet softened her
tone.
“Charles, I was wondering… how’s Annie doing now? I’ve been worried
about her. Dante’s asked so many times too. We wanted to come over,
maybe bring some things to help with her recovery.”
“Sorry,” Charles muttered, a frown tightening his face. “She’s still sick. She
can’t meet anyone yet. It’s a skin condition… takes time to heal, you
know.”
“Ah… I see.” Janet’s voice trailed off awkwardly. Her mind spun with
suspicion. “Alright then. I’ll call again soon. I’m really worried about her.
You can ask her to call me, at least. I’m like a mother to her. I wouldn’t
want her to feel lonely.”
“Sure,” Charles replied curtly and ended the call.
Janet slowly lowered her phone, her jaw clenched tight, eyes narrowing.
“Why the hell is he still hiding that damn girl from me?” she muttered
through gritted teeth. “What kind of illness takes this long to recover?
Something’s off.”
She could barely contain her frustration as she stood up and marched
straight upstairs toward Dante’s room. The door was ajar, so she barged
right in.
“Dante! It’s Annie’s birthday today—Charles’ daughter! You should go
right now and get her a gift. Something expensive. I’ll try to find her
contact info. You have to start wooing her!”
“What the hell are you talking about, Mom?” Dante emerged from behind
his desk, dressed in a casual white t-shirt and a trouser. He walked over to
her, his brows furrowed. “What are you saying?”
“That girl, Annie. It’s her birthday today. Buy her something luxurious and
go give it to her! Also you’ve gotten rid of Anya, right?”
“I’m not getting rid of her,” he said flatly. “She’s mine.”
His calm, defiant tone only made Janet more furious.
“Get rid of her immediately! She’s not stepping into this house again, nor
should she be anywhere near you. Drill that into your head! First, get her
out of your life, and then make sure when you meet Annie, that girl is
completely gone!”
Without waiting for his response, she spun around and stormed out of the
room.
Dante stared after her, a cold frown settling on his face. A strange suspicion
crawled into his chest.
‘Anya and Annie… both have the same birthday?’
He crossed his arms, the pieces clicking louder in his mind. ‘And since she
left, Anya never told me where she moved. Could it be… is it possible that
Anya is Annie?’
The idea sounded unrealistic, but it burned in his gut.
Still, he shook his head, dismissing the thought. “If there’s something going
on, she’ll tell me herself,” he muttered and turned back to his desk,
continuing work on the gift he was preparing for Anya.
***
At the Carters’ residence, Charles walked into the living room where Anya
sat quietly. She had overheard everything.
“You still haven’t told them?” he asked gently, settling beside her.
Anya shook her head, then leaned against his shoulder, her voice a soft
whisper. “Not yet, Dad.”
She pulled back and gave him a small smile. “Before Dante and I get
married, I’ll tell him myself. He deserves to hear it directly.”
Charles exhaled slowly, concern still in his eyes. But he gave her a
reassuring pat on the head and returned to reading the news on his tablet.
***
As the clock struck six, Anya quietly slipped out of the house. A sleek black
car waited at the curb.
Just as she reached the door, the driver’s door opened—Dante stepped out
and started walking toward her.
“No—” she hissed, rushing up to him. She slapped at his arm lightly,
adjusting her purse on her shoulder with the other hand. “Someone could
see you! Get back inside.”
He frowned at her strange behavior. “What?”
She fumbled with the car door, trying to push him back into the seat, but he
suddenly reached out, cupped her face, and pulled her into a kiss right there,
in the middle of the street.
She gasped, trying to push him away at first, but his lips pressed harder—
more possessive, more demanding. His tongue traced the curve of her lower
lip, slipping inside to tease and taste her. He pulled back just enough to lick
her lips again, wet and hungry, before crashing back in with renewed
intensity.
Her resistance melted with every heated flick of his tongue, every
possessive nibble..
By the time he pulled back, she was breathless, dazed, and completely at his
mercy.
Anya staggered back slightly, her chest rising and falling as she tried to
catch her breath. She shot him a glare—half furious, half shaken.
“You’re mine. I don’t care who sees us,” he muttered, voice low and rough
as his hand slid possessively around her waist. Without giving her a chance
to react, he gently nudged her toward the passenger seat. “Come on, I’ll
help you get in.”
The stubborn crease on her forehead didn’t disappear, but it softened. Her
heart raced wildly, confused by the pull he had on her.
She slid into the seat, and before she could reach for the belt, Dante leaned
over her. He grabbed it himself, buckling her in safely. Then he grasped the
back of her neck, leaned in, and kissed her—his tongue teasing her lower
lip before pulling it into his mouth, sucking softly, then letting it go.
“Happy birthday, Anya,” he whispered against her mouth, his voice filled
with tenderness.
Anya’s entire body jolted, heat rushing up her neck. “Thanks,” she
breathed, her back pressed tightly against the seat, heart thudding so hard it
echoed in her ears.
Even as her lungs struggled to keep up, her eyes stayed locked on his.
He smiled at her dazed reaction, and shamelessly pressed several more
kisses to her lips, and her face. Quick, shameless kisses that sent shivers all
over her body. His affection made her smile, even as she trembled in his
arms, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch.
When he finally pulled away, he flashed her a playful grin before shutting
the door with a satisfied thud. He jogged around the car and slid into the
driver’s seat.
As soon as he sat down, he leaned over again, clearly aiming for another
kiss.
But she placed a palm on his cheek and pushed him back gently, a soft
laugh escaping her lips. “Drive,” she said with a half-smile, half-frown.
Dante exhaled with exaggerated disappointment, giving her the most
adorably boyish pout she had ever seen on a man like him—arrogant,
powerful, and so damn sure of himself.
But he backed off and started the engine. The car roared to life, and soon
they were speeding down the road.
Somewhere along the way, he turned to her and said, “Close your eyes.”
“Why?” she asked, already grinning.
“It’s a surprise,” he said with a grin. “Trust me.”
Too curious to argue, Anya obeyed, excitement bubbling in her chest.
When the car came to a stop, she kept her eyes shut. She could hear him get
out, and seconds later, he was opening her door. Before she could ask
anything, strong arms swept her off her feet.
“Let me walk!” she protested immediately, squirming in his hold and about
to open her eyes.
“Don’t do that,” he mumbled, his lips brushing her temple. “Keep them
closed. Just trust me.”
She could hear voices around them—laughter, footsteps, distant chatter.
They were definitely in a public place, and here he was, carrying her in his
arms without a care in the world.
Overwhelmed by shyness, she turned her face into his chest, trying to hide.
But the noise around them did little to drown out her embarrassment, or the
warmth blooming in her chest.
He carried her through a doorway, and suddenly, there was silence. There
was a soft ding—the elevator. The quiet hum of an elevator followed, then
more steps.
Finally, he set her down.
“You can open them now,” he said.
Anya slowly opened them, blinking as she looked around. Her breath
caught.
They were back in the same suite they’d stayed in on their first night
together. Except today, it was transformed.
Red roses were scattered everywhere—on the dark wooden floor, the bed,
and the windowsill. Soft yellow fairy lights were strung along the walls,
glowing warmly and casting gentle shadows.
The curtains were wide open, showing the city skyline sparkling under the
night sky. The moonlight mixed with the lights, making the room glow
softly.
The room smelled of roses and wine, with silk sheets on the large bed.
In the center, on a black plate set on a white velvet ottoman, bold white
letters read:
YOU WILL MARRY ME.
A laugh burst from her lips. She turned around without thinking and
launched herself into his arms, hugging him so tightly her breath caught.
“We’re getting married?” she squealed, voice muffled against his chest.
Dante didn’t say a word—he just grinned, lifted her off the ground again,
and crushed her to his chest. His arms locked around her with a grip so tight
it made her breath hitch. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply, as
if he could live off her scent.
“I love you, Anya,” he said into her skin, his lips brushing her ear. “Happy
birthday.”
Her heart was so full it ached. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice cracking
with emotion.
She could barely take it all in. So much happiness, so much love, so much
relief after everything they'd been through. She had never been this happy.
As she pulled back from the hug, he swept her up again and carried her to
the bed. But instead of setting her down, he sat down on the bed with her in
his lap, holding her close like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance.
He pressed his face into her chest and let out a long, shaky breath.
“I want this,” he murmured. “You in my lap, me holding you, breathing you
in… always.”
Anya smiled, running her fingers through his hair, softly scratching the
back of his neck. His body trembled lightly under her touch.
She gripped his hair, pulling his head back just enough to catch his eyes
with hers, her palms warm against his cheeks. She leaned in slowly,
pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was rich and deep—lingering long,
savoring every inch of him.
When they finally broke apart, Dante reached for the table nearby and
pulled it closer. On it sat a gorgeous strawberry cake, decorated with
delicate roses and frosting, and a bottle of champagne with two flutes
beside it.
Anya picked up the knife to cut the cake, but he gently grabbed her hand
and guided it with his, cutting the cake together.
“Happy birthday, Anya,” he said softly. “May God bless you. And may you
live forever… with me.”
She giggled at the last part and turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Dante,
it’s my birthday. I get to make the wishes, not you.”
“You don’t need to wait for your birthday. Just tell me, and I’ll make all
your wishes come true.” He grinned and kissed her cheek.
Anya held back a laugh, then finally closed her eyes and pressed her hands
together.
“Please, God, let me always be happy with the people I love, and who love
me back.”
She opened her eyes with a smile, picked up a piece of cake, and brought it
to his lips.
But he didn’t bite it. Instead, he took her finger into his mouth, slowly
licking the cream off, his eyes locked on hers. She blushed furiously.
Then he picked up a little piece for her.
Her tongue peeked out, licking the cake from his finger, slow and
deliberate. His body tensed. She felt his body tense beneath her and quickly
bit back a smile. He was trying to stay composed, but she could see right
through him.
She pulled away, grabbed the champagne bottle, and poured it into two
glasses without pausing—filling them nearly to the brim. Then she brought
one to his lips and lifted the other for herself.
Dante took the glass, but his other hand tightened around her waist, keeping
her perched firmly in his lap, her legs spread across the bed in a relaxed
sprawl.
She raised a brow and eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not going to lecture
me about drinking too much tonight?”
He shook his head slowly, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips. “Drink all
you want tonight,” he said, his voice low, remembering with a mischievous
glint, “Just like last time… when you couldn’t keep your hands off me at
the bar. You can attack me again—no one’s gonna stop you.”
“Oh my God,” she groaned, burying her flushed face into his neck as a
mortified laugh escaped her. “When are you going to stop bringing that up?
I’m so embarrassed.”
He chuckled, his chest rumbling under her cheek. She pulled back and
pouted up at him. “Don’t laugh,” she mumbled.
Instead of replying, Dante lifted his champagne glass to her lips and tipped
it gently. “Drink.”
She obediently parted her lips and took a few sips. As she swallowed, a thin
stream of champagne escaped the corner of her mouth and dripped down to
her chin. Before she could lift her hand to wipe it away, Dante leaned in, his
tongue trailing slowly up her jaw, catching the droplet and following it to
her lips. He swept over them with a gentle stroke.
She trembled—her whole body reacting to the intimate gesture. Her breath
caught as she stared at him, stunned. The more she tried to hide her
reaction, the more her face flushed with heat.
“This one tastes good,” he muttered, his gaze dark and intense.
Then he leaned down again—this time kissing her hard. His mouth moved
over hers with urgency, his grip tightening, like he couldn’t get enough of
her. She shuddered beneath him, clinging to his shoulders, barely able to
breathe.
Just when she thought she’d melt into the kiss completely, he pulled back
slightly. She felt something cold slide onto her finger.
She blinked, then lifted her hand—and froze.
There, sitting on her ring finger, was a stunning diamond ring—elegant and
extravagant. One of the most expensive cuts she’d ever seen.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
“A little gift for you,” Dante murmured, his lips brushing along her neck.
The soft kisses sent tingles racing down her spine, making her squirm under
him.
“Anya,” Dante said softly, his breath brushing her ear. “We’re getting the
marriage registered tomorrow.”
Her head snapped up in surprise. “Already? Shouldn’t we have a wedding
first—like, with the hall and everything?”
“I can’t wait that long,” he muttered with a frown, brushing her hair back.
“I want you with me every single day. But you keep going home, and
honestly, it’s driving me insane. I swear, if we delay any longer, I might just
kidnap you and lock you in my basement.”
She burst into laughter, shaking her head. “Alright then. Tomorrow it is.”
A wide, boyish grin broke across his face, the kind that reached his eyes. He
was trying to stay calm, but the excitement in him was impossible to miss.
He pulled her closer and whispered, “Anya… is there anything you want to
tell me before we get married? Anything you’re hiding?”
His voice was gentle. His eyes searched hers.
She leaned up, kissed him on the lips, and whispered, “There is... but I
promise I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Alright,” he said quietly.
But his eyes didn’t move from hers. Not for a second.
In the next heartbeat, he lifted her effortlessly, pulling her into his lap, her
legs straddling him, chest pressed to his. His hands ran down her back, then
gripped the hem of her dress and yanked it upward. Fabric tore. She gasped.
He didn’t stop. His mouth found hers again, all fire and heat, tongue
claiming her like he couldn’t wait one more second.
He pulled her closer, until there was no space between them. Her bra came
undone in his hands like it was nothing. Then her panties—dragged down
her thighs with one rough pull. His breath was ragged now. He shoved off
his own clothes like they were in the way of breathing.
Then he took her.
Hard.
She clung to him as he moved—again and again—his hands holding her
down like he couldn’t risk her slipping away. Her cries filled the room, but
he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. His name tore from her lips in broken gasps, and
still he held her, rode her, kissed every sound she made.
The night blurred into shadows and heat. And he didn’t stop until she was
trembling in his arms, until she couldn’t even speak, only hold onto him—
shaking, breathless, undone.
***
The next morning, Anya stepped out of the car with Dante, her fingers
tightly clasped in his.
She’d gone home early to change, freshen up, grab her ID and rush back out
to meet him. Now, walking toward the courthouse together, her heart
pounded with excitement. Everything felt like a dream—fast,
overwhelming, and electric.
Dante hadn’t let go of her hand since last night. As they walked toward the
courthouse together, his fingers gripped hers like he was afraid she’d
vanish. He kept glancing at her, smiling like a man who’d just won the
world.
When they reached the entrance, he suddenly turned her toward him and
looked deep into her eyes. “I love you, Anya,” he said. “This is the start of
our life together. I swear, I’ll never let anything make you sad.”
Anya’s heart swelled. She held his hands with both of hers and nodded,
smiling.
But then his gaze dropped. His hands stiffened around hers. His brows drew
together.
He was staring at the ring on her finger.
The ruby ring.
“This isn’t the ring I gave you,” he said slowly, his voice suddenly colder.
Anya’s body stiffened as her eyes followed his. Her stomach dropped.
He was looking at the ring that Luca had given her.
His voice was low and hard now. “Isn’t this the ring from the auction?”
Her chest tightened.
She’d completely forgotten about it.
Luca had slipped it onto her finger after the auction, and this morning—
rushed and jittery—she’d thrown it on without even realizing which one it
was. She’d only been thinking about getting to Dante. About marrying him.
Now his grip turned rigid, and when she looked up, there was a fire burning
in his eyes.
“What the hell is going on?” Dante’s voice thundered, his jaw clenched,
face burning with fury as he glared at her. “Why do you have this ring?”
“I can explain,” Anya said quickly, her voice shaky. “It was a gift—”
“A gift?” he barked, stepping closer, his entire frame rigid with restrained
rage. “Why the fuck would Luca Stanson give you a gift worth hundreds of
millions? Who the hell is he to you?”
“Dante, it’s nothing like that.” She stumbled over her words, her chest
tightening. “I know Luca—we’re sort of friends. That’s why he gave it to
me. It doesn’t mean anything.”
He dropped her hand as if it burned him, but his eyes didn’t leave her face.
His gaze darkened. The longer he tried to stay calm, the faster the anger
bubbled to the surface.
“A friend?” His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. “Are you fucking
serious right now?”
The more he tried to keep it in, the more his anger flared. “At the auction,
you acted like you didn’t even know him. Treated him like a stranger. When
did he give you this ring? When the hell did he become your friend? When
did he give you this ring?”
“On my birthday,” she said softly, desperation leaking into her tone. She
tried to explain, to fix this mess before it slipped further out of control. “I
was going to tell you. I didn’t mean to hide anything, Dante. Please—listen
to me. It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“On your birthday?” His voice rose, bitter and sharp. “Anya, I wanted to
give you this ring. I was ready to fight for it, to buy it for you. And you
stopped me. You let that bastard take it, and now you’re telling me you
accepted it from him? What the hell is going on between you two?”
Her heart pounded in her chest. He wasn’t hearing her—just seeing red.
“Dante, please. He’s just a friend. I promise you, there’s nothing more. It’s
an innocent friendship.”
She reached for him again, her voice trembling. “Remember I told you I
wanted to talk to you today? To tell you something I’ve been keeping? This
was it. That I know Luca. That he is—”
“I don’t give a damn anymore,” Dante cut her off, his voice low and
trembling with fury. He took a step back, looking like her touch might break
him. “You should’ve told me the truth when you had the chance. Is this
what you do? Hide things from me like it’s no big deal?”
“Dante, please…” she tried, reaching for him again, her heart sinking.
“Let’s just go in. Let’s get married first, then sit down. I’ll tell you
everything. Every little detail, no more secrets. Just… please.”
He roughly jerked her hand away, a roar tearing from his throat, “I’m not
marrying you! You took a ring from another man—so go and marry him!”
His voice echoed off the walls, making her flinch.

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 CHAPTER 16 FIRED
He turned to storm off when his phone buzzed with a special alert. He
glanced at it—and then froze.
His eyes darkened.
Plastered all over social media was a photo of Anya and Luca. His hand
rested on her head, fingers slipping through her hair, while she leaned into
him.
It looked intimate. Too intimate.
The news was everywhere—trending, shared, and speculated on across
every platform.
'Luca Stanson snapped with his lady love—a rare sight. Is a wedding finally
on the cards?'
'For the first time, Luca Stanson is seen with a woman. Rumors swirl—
could she be his childhood sweetheart?'
‘Spotted: Billionaire Luca Stanson finally off the market? Intimate photo
fuels dating rumors.’
‘The woman who tamed the untouchable Luca Stanson? Sources say she’s
more than just a fling.’
‘The notoriously private, Billionaire co-owner of Carter Diamonds, Luca
Stanson seen getting cozy in public!’
‘Exclusive: Luca’s romantic side exposed—never-before-seen moment
captured.’
His jaw clenched tight. At that auction, she had looked at Luca like he was
nobody. Like she didn’t even know who he was. But this photo—this was
saying something else entirely.
His grip tightened around the phone, his blood boiling. Without thinking, he
spun around and marched back to her. He shoved the phone in front of her
face.
“This is what you were hiding from me?” he growled. “You don’t have a
‘friendship’ with Luca, Anya. You’re his fucking girlfriend?”
“What?” Her eyes widened, confused. She stared at the photo. “No—Dante,
this was when he gave me the ring. We were talking, and he touched my
head for a second. That’s it. Someone took this photo and twisted it. It’s not
what it looks like—please, listen to me—”
She reached out, her hand trembling as it brushed his.
Her breath quickened as she looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes.
“Can you please listen to me? You’re not even letting me explain. Dante,
there’s nothing between me and Luca. I swear on everything.”
“I believe what I fucking see,” he gritted out, yanking his hand from her
grip. He turned his back on her and stormed toward his car.
“Dante—wait!” she cried out, chasing after him.
She reached out to grab his arm, but he pulled away before she could touch
him, still storming off.
Thrown off balance, she stumbled and crashed to the ground with a cry. Her
leg twisted beneath her, pain shooting through her as she hit the pavement.
He didn’t look back. Not once.
He got into the car, slammed the door, and drove off.
Anya sat on the cold ground, her ankle throbbing, her dress torn at the hem.
Tears streamed down her face, and she clutched her chest like it could hold
her heart together.
“Why won’t you believe me?” she sobbed. “I was going to tell you
everything… You didn’t even give me the chance.”
They were supposed to start a new life together.
Love.
Marriage.
And instead, he left her without a second thought.
***
Anya limped back into the Carter residence, every step sending a sharp ache
through her leg. Her eyes were still wet, her heart hollow.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Charles, sitting in the hallway
working on his laptop, looked up—and his eyes widened. His expression
changed in an instant—worry replacing his usual calm.
“Anya?” He shoved the laptop aside and rushed to her side as she staggered
forward, concern etched across his face. “What happened?”
“I fell,” she whispered. Her voice was barely audible. “Twisted my leg.”
Without asking more, Charles wrapped her arm around his shoulder and
helped her to the couch, his face filled with concern.
“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, his tone protective. “Come on. Sit
down. Let me get some ointment.”
Anya sank onto the couch, blinking back more tears. Not just from the pain
in her leg… but from the pain in her chest.
Charles glanced around, panic in his eyes, then quickly turned and rushed
off to grab the first aid kit.
Luca, who had been working in the backyard, heard Anya’s voice and came
over in a hurry. His brows pulled together when he saw her—clothes
slightly dirtied, her face pale and trembling like she was on the verge of
breaking down.
Immediately, he crouched down in front of her, his voice low but filled with
worry. “Anya, what’s wrong?”
Her eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, she tried to hold herself
together. But seeing the look on his face and her dad hurrying toward them
with equal concern made the tears she had been holding back spill down her
cheeks.
“Dante refused to marry me,” she choked out, her voice raw and strained.
Luca blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?” he
asked, though a flicker of hope passed through him—something he hated
himself for feeling.
Anya sniffled, then removed the ruby ring from her finger and handed it
back to him. “I can’t accept this ring.”
Luca didn’t argue. He took it from her hand without a word and softly
asked, “Anya, tell me what happened.”
She drew in a shaky breath, fighting through the tightness in her throat. “He
misunderstood... He saw this ring and assumed I was hiding something.
That I was involved with you.”
Her voice cracked.
“We went to get the marriage certificate today. I was going to tell him
everything—about you, Dad, and that I’m Annie. But someone posted a
picture of you and me at the restaurant online, and when he saw it, he lost it.
He thought I was lying to him… cheating on him.”
Luca’s jaw tightened, his voice sharp. “He thinks you are cheating on him?”
His voice was tight with anger. “Is he out of his goddamn mind? Does he
not know you well enough to trust you?”
Charles, who had just returned with the first aid box, set it down hard on the
table and started pacing, rage building with every step.
“I already booked a hotel to celebrate your marriage today,” he seethed. “I
thought he was a smart, understanding man. But now? He left you at the
courthouse and refused to marry you?”
Charles turned to face her, his voice growing colder. “Now you’re never
marrying him. Even if he gets down on his knees and begs, I’m not letting
that scumbag get close to you. He doesn't deserve you. Not even close.”
Luca stood still, his worry for Anya mixing with a strange, almost
possessive feeling.
He was relieved that Anya hadn’t married Dante, as bad as it sounded.
Maybe, just maybe, he could finally have a chance to make her his—and be
happy with her.
***
Dante slammed the car door and stormed into the house, his entire body
vibrating with rage. He walked in without a word, his jaw tight, fists
clenched.
Griffin, who had been pacing back and forth, immediately noticed his
arrival.
“What happened?” Griffin asked eagerly, his eyes scanning Dante’s face.
“Is it done? Did you get the marriage certificate with Anya? How did it
go?”
Before Dante could answer, Janet, who had been sitting on the couch,
jumped to her feet the second she heard Griffin, her anger flaring.
“Marriage? What the hell did you just say?” Her eyes were wild, locked
onto Griffin and Dante. “You were planning to get married? And neither of
you told me?” Her voice rose to a scream. “Are you kidding me right now?”
Griffin glanced at Janet, his voice calm but firm. “It was my idea. I told him
to marry Anya. If he wants to marry her, that’s his decision. You have no
right to interfere. It’s none of your business.”
Janet lost it. “Not my business? She is not going to be my family! I told you
I don’t like her. And you—” she pointed a trembling finger at Dante “—you
went behind my back to marry someone like her? Is this some kind of
rebellion?”
“We didn’t get married,” Dante said flatly, cutting through the chaos. His
voice was calm, but hard. “We went to the courthouse, but didn’t get the
license.”
“What?” Griffin blinked, stunned. “Why?”
“We’re not a good match for each other,” Dante said coldly. “We don’t
know each other well enough. Besides, she’s got no shortage of men around
her. It doesn’t matter whether I’m in her life or not.”
Griffin paled. “Wait, what are you saying? You think she’s seeing someone
else? Is she… in love with another man?”
Dante didn’t respond.
Griffin looked sick. He rubbed his forehead, his voice quiet. “No… that
can’t be. She’s not that kind of girl…”
Janet, however, couldn’t hold back. “What do you mean, ‘not that kind of
girl’?” she scoffed. “You picked her up off the street and brought her into
this house like some charity project. Did you ever consider that she might
be a bad person? You’re too naive, dad. Girls like her? They’re never
good.”
She stepped closer to Dante, her voice cutting. “That girl was after you
from the start. She had you wrapped around her finger. And now look at her
—as soon as she found someone richer, she left you and walked right into
another man’s arms. Good thing you came to your senses before it was too
late.”
She patted Dante’s arm. “Don’t worry. Now that she’s out of the picture,
you can focus on someone better. Annie’s still around—she’s always cared
about you. You should spend time with her. You deserve someone like her,
not some dirty charity project.”
Dante took a deep breath, his voice a growl. “Even if I don’t marry Anya,
I’m not marrying anyone else.”
Then he turned and walked out, the door slamming behind him.
Janet, however, let out a long sigh of relief. A small, satisfied smile curved
her lips. ‘Now that Anya is out of the picture, it’ll be easier for Dante to
move on and marry Annie.’
***
Two days later, Anya walked into the Kingsley Corporation’s and headed
toward the CEO’s office. As she passed the hallway, a new girl she had
never seen before stopped her.
"Hello, do you have an appointment?" The girl emerged from behind the
counter, offering a smile.
Anya frowned. "No. I work as Mr. Kingsley’s secretary."
The girl chuckled lightly. "No, I’m his secretary." She paused, then added,
"Wait. Are you... Anya, Mr. Kingsley’s previous secretary?"
“Previous?” Anya stiffened, her body tensing. "What do you mean?"
“I’m sorry,” the girl’s face turned genuinely apologetic. “Since you didn’t
come to the office the last two days, it was assumed you no longer wanted
to work here. I was informed that you’d quit, and I was hired to take your
position.”
“I didn’t quit this job,” Anya snapped, her body tense with disbelief. “What
are you talking about? I never resigned.”
"Anya?" Triston's voice echoed down the hall, causing Anya to turn toward
him. Standing beside him, Dante’s icy gaze pierced her.
She turned her questioning eyes to Dante. She marched up to Dante, her
voice sharp. “Why did you replace me? When did I agree to quit?”
Tristan grabbed the new secretary by the arm. "Don’t make a scene," he
muttered, pulling her away.
Dante walked past them, striding confidently into his office without even
sparing a glance.
Anya’s heart pounded as she followed him into the office, her steps sharp
with fury. Her body trembled, her anger rising as she glared at the back of
his head.
"How could you do this?" she snapped as soon as they were inside, her
voice breaking with emotion. "Why did you hire someone when I didn’t
quit my job?"
Dante’s expression remained cold, his jaw tight. "Someone like you doesn’t
need to work here," he said as he regarded her with a disdainful calm.
"You're connected to the most influential people in the world. A job like this
is beneath you. You shouldn’t lower yourself to being my secretary."
Anya’s teeth clenched, and her pulse raced. Dante was clearly talking about
her relationship with Luca, implying that because of it, she could have any
position she wanted.
The nerve of him.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Anya fixed her gaze on him. "You’re
still angry about the ring Luca gave me, aren’t you?" She took a step closer
to him, eyes burning, voice calm. "I’ve already returned it to him."
Dante’s eyes flashed with anger, his jaw tightening. "You think it's just a
small thing? That it's as simple as giving that damn ring back to him?"
"Isn’t it?" she asked, her eyes locked onto his.
"No!" he growled. "That man gave you a ring worth millions. No one gives
that kind of gift unless they want something in return. And you expect me to
believe it’s just a friendly gesture?"
She closed her eyes, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before
speaking again.
She inhaled slowly, her voice quieter now. "Yes, that’s exactly what it was.
He’s my friend, Dante. That’s all. Nothing more."
Dante’s eyes flashed, his lips curling into a sneer. “Friend?” He scoffed.
“You’re going to stand there and tell me he doesn’t want more? You think I
don’t know how he looks at you? He has feelings for you. Are you really
going to deny that?”
Her heart raced at the intensity in his voice, but she kept her composure.
She had seen the way Luca looked at her, the way he always cared, and she
couldn’t deny the possibility that he had feelings for her. But she had never
encouraged it.
She took a deep breath, swallowing the knot in her throat.
“I know what you’re thinking, but I can’t stop being his friend just because
of your insecurities,” she said quietly. “But I promise—I won’t accept any
more gifts from him. I won’t get this close again. He’s my friend, and that
won’t change, but I won’t let it go any further. I won’t let him give me
anything.”
Dante’s eyes burned, his voice cold and hard. “You don’t have to change for
me, Anya. Your relationships are your choice. Who am I to tell you to give
up the people you care about?”
Her heart hardened at the words. He was trying to push her away, and it cut
deeper than she wanted to admit.
“You think I want to hurt you, Dante? I’m trying to make it right, but you
won’t even listen,” her voice shook with frustration.
"Get out of my office," he said, his tone distant and detached. He gestured
toward the door, a finality in his voice. "There’s nothing left between us to
discuss."
Anya’s patience snapped. Anger surged through her as she stepped forward,
her voice cutting and fierce. “Fine! If that’s what you want, then that’s
exactly what you’ll get.”
She spun around and stormed toward the door. “I quit. I’m not coming back
to you. Ever!”
Dante froze. His anger had been sharp, but he hadn't expected her to say
those words.
She didn’t wait for his response as she stormed out of his office. The door
slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing through the empty hallway.
Inside the office, Dante stood motionless for a moment before he swept
everything off his desk in a single, violent motion. Files and a glass
sculpture shattered against the floor as he roared in frustration, unable to
control the surge of emotion that gripped him.
***
"Anya?"
Charles noticed as soon as Anya stepped inside the house. He immediately
walked up to her, his concern evident as he took in her red eyes. She wiped
them hastily with the back of her hand.
“What’s going on? Why are your eyes so red? Did Dante do something to
you?” His voice trembled with growing frustration. “What did he do? Did
he hurt you?”
“No,” she answered immediately, shaking her head. “He fired me.”
“He fired you?” Charles’s tone softened with disbelief. “Well, at least you
don’t have to work for him anymore. I never liked you working there
anyway.”
Anya sniffled and wiped her face. “But I didn’t work for him because of the
money… I worked there because I liked him.”
She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She took a few
steps forward and buried her face against his chest, her body trembling as
she sobbed.
“Daddy… he fired me.” She sobbed, her voice shaking. “He ignored me…
didn’t marry me, and then he hired another girl as his secretary when I went
there today.”
Charles’s jaw tightened, his temper rising. “He fired you already, and
replaced you at work?” His voice grew harder, but his touch remained soft
as he caressed the back of her head. “I know it’s hurting you. He probably
doesn’t care about you anymore, Anya. I know men.”
Anya wiped her tears and sniffled, looking up at him. Her eyes met his.
Charles’s voice softened as he continued. “You can join our company
immediately. There’s no need to get upset over a man. I’ll find you a
hundred better men. If Dante doesn’t want you, then forget him.”
Anya nodded, her breathing calming as her tears subsided.
Charles leaned in and kissed her forehead lovingly. “My daughter doesn’t
need any damn man. You can start working with Luca. He’ll help you take
over the company and teach you everything. It’ll be good for you to start
early and spend time at the office. You’ll forget all about Dante.”
Anya’s eyes softened as she looked up at her father. “Dad… do you want
me to be with Luca?”
Charles frowned slightly, but his gaze softened when he shook his head. “I
won’t force you into anything, Anya. It’s your life, your choice. Even if you
never want to get married, I’ll support you. I agreed to your marriage to
Dante because I always heard good things about him. I thought he was a
good match for you. Now, if you do want to get married, Luca isn’t a bad
choice either.”
Anya gave him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Dad,” she whispered,
wiping away the last of her tears before pulling away and heading back to
her room.
Her mind raced with a hundred thoughts as she entered her room and sat on
the bed. Her gaze landed on her phone, its wallpaper a picture of her and
Dante from her birthday.
The more she stared at it, the more her heart ached.
“I love you so much,” she whispered, her fingers hovering over the picture.
“But Dante, I can’t keep doing this.” Her voice cracked slightly, and she
muttered, “There’s no use explaining things to you when you’re not ready
to listen.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 17
EAVESDROPPER
She took a soft, shuddering breath before changing the wallpaper on her
phone. Then, she fell back on the bed, her eyes fluttering closed.
“I can’t break my relationship with Luca just because Dante wants it,” she
whispered, her voice cracking. “Maybe you and I were never meant to be
together. There were always signs, but I kept ignoring them. From your
mother to my real family… so many secrets between us.”
She grabbed a pillow, burying her face in it, and the night seemed to dim
around her, slipping into a heavy silence.
***
The next morning, Dante’s new secretary, Jennifer, walked into his office
with a small package in her hands.
“Sir, there’s a personal package for you,” she said. “Usually, we just get
office deliveries, but I saw this was addressed personally to you, so I
brought it straight to you.”
Dante looked up from the file he was signing, a slight frown crossing his
face. “Open it. What’s in there?”
Jennifer nodded and carefully opened the package. As she pulled out a
small box and opened it, her eyes widened in shock.
“Sir… this is a diamond ring,” she said, holding it up to him. “Such a huge
diamond... is it even real?”
Dante’s gaze fell onto the ring. His body stiffened at once, his entire form
going rigid, and his face darkened.
It was the ring he had placed on Anya’s finger when he proposed to her on
her birthday.
“Get out,” he barked, his voice thick with anger.
Jennifer jumped, startled, and quickly placed the ring on the table before
turning to leave.
“Take it with you,” Dante’s voice was cold, making her freeze. “Throw it
away.”
Her eyes went wide in disbelief. This was a very expensive ring, and yet he
wanted her to throw it away?
But the look on Dante’s face told her everything she needed to know. She
quickly nodded, grabbed the ring, and hurried out of the office.
As she exited, she collided with Triston, who was heading toward Dante’s
office.
The news of Dante and Anya had already spread among their friends. After
the incident with Anya, Dante had gone to the bar, drinking himself into a
stupor in front of them. If it hadn’t been for his friends getting him out of
there, he might’ve kept drinking himself into oblivion.
That's why Triston decided to stop by the office to check on him.
He was just about to enter when he bumped into Jennifer, the box in her
hand falling to the floor. The ring rolled out of the box, and Jennifer gasped
as she quickly scrambled to grab it, placing it back inside the box. She
sighed in relief, looking up at him.
"God… Mr. Turner, you just cost me the salary of my next seven
generations," she nearly cried.
Triston halted and glanced down at the ring in surprise.
“What’s that?” he asked casually.
She looked at him, a bit sheepish, then answered, “It came for Mr. Kingsley.
He asked me to throw it out.”
Triston raised an eyebrow, his expression matching her shock.
“Give it to me,” he said, holding out his hand. He took the box, looking it
over and finding Dante, and Anya’s name engraved on the ring.
“Jennifer,” he said quietly, “keep this ring somewhere safe if you don’t want
to get fired.”
She nodded, a sense of relief washing over her. “I was thinking the same
thing. This looks pretty expensive.”
“It is.” Triston gave a slow nod, the dark circles under his eyes revealing the
sleepless night he’d had. He shook his head, muttering under his breath as
he glanced at Jennifer.
“This is exactly why secretaries shouldn’t date their boss,” he grumbled.
“One mistake, and you’re out the door just like that. Never date your boss,
alright?”
“Yes.” Jennifer nodded very seriously.
Inside the office, Dante was anything but calm.
He had told Jennifer to throw the ring away. He’d convinced himself he
didn’t care anymore. But the moment he realized what he had said—his
chest tightened. His jaw clenched.
In a blink, he pushed away from his desk, chair scraping sharply against the
floor. He stormed out of the room.
That’s when he spotted Triston and Jennifer, standing just a few feet from
his door.
He walked up to them immediately.
“Where’s the ring?” Dante demanded, walking straight up to them, eyes
fixed on Jennifer. “Did you throw it away already?”
She stiffened, clutching her hands nervously. “Didn’t get the chance yet,
sir.”
“Give it back.” His palm opened in front of her immediately.
Jennifer quickly placed the small velvet box in his hand.
The second his fingers closed around it, something in his eyes shifted—like
the storm inside him had paused, if only for a breath.
Dante turned sharply and strode back into his office, slamming the door
behind him.
Once the door shut behind him, Jennifer turned to Triston, her brows
furrowed.
Jennifer turned to Triston with wide eyes. “Mr. Turner… are you saying that
girl from that day—Anya, his previous secretary—she’s…”
Triston gave a sly shrug with a knowing smirk.
Jennifer frowned, lowering her voice. “Mr. Kingsley looked so... shaken
just now. Do you think he’s still in love with her?”
Triston let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Dante’s
never been in love before Anya. Hell, he’s never even liked any other girl.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “No wonder he’s losing his damn mind. The
poor guy doesn’t know how to handle his jealousy.”
***
Back in his office, Dante stared at the ring box in his hand.
He flipped it open slowly, the diamond glinting under the light. His thumb
brushed the edge of it slowly
‘I don’t have any relationship with him. He’s just a friend.’
The words echoed in his mind, but all they did was make his blood boil.
She let Luca give her the ring he wanted to give her. And she wore it—like
it meant nothing.
His chest ached as he gritted his teeth, the fire burning through his veins
unbearable.
He gritted his teeth, muttering under his breath, “Even if he’s just a friend,
how could you wear his ring and come to me?”
His chest burned. The longer he stared at the ring, the harder it became for
him to think.
Had she really given up and walked away, like what they had didn’t matter
at all?
"I can’t even breathe, and you returned my goddamn ring to me?" he
whispered, his anger burning with each word.
***
“Come with me. I’ve already arranged the best spot for you,” Luca said
softly, placing a gentle hand on Anya’s shoulder as he guided her toward the
CEO office.
They were at the Carters Diamonds’ headquarters, a sleek, multi-story tower
that screamed power. The fifteenth floor was home to the top executives—
where the real decisions happened.
As they neared the main workspace where others were seated, Anya gently
shrugged his arm off with a quick whisper.
“Don’t let people know we know each other.”
Luca’s face tightened slightly but he gave a silent nod, respecting her
request.
They walked casually past the rows of employees. Luca opened the CEO’s
private office door and let her in first.
Behind them, gasps erupted like wildfire.
“Was that Mr. Stanson?” one woman gasped. “Did he just open his office
door for her?”
“No way. He’s never that polite to anyone,” another whispered.
“Let alone walking someone in. He doesn’t open doors, not even for the
most important clients.”
“Who is she?”
“Must be someone really important… or maybe…”
Speculations flew as employees gathered in hushed circles, whispering
about the mystery girl who had walked beside their notoriously reserved
COO.
Inside the office, Luca walked to the center of the room and turned to Anya
with a bright smile. “Welcome to your future,” he said, gesturing around the
sleek office.
“This is technically my space, but if you want it, it’s yours. You can have
any office you want. Soon, you’ll be my partner in this company—my
equal.”
He walked toward her slowly, speaking gently. “Just ask for anything, and
I’ll give it to you.”
Anya gave a small laugh. “You’re way too generous, aren’t you? You keep
spoiling me. I’m afraid I’ll get used to it.”
She met his eyes with a teasing grin. “What if I ask for something you’ll
regret?”
“There won’t be a day like that,” Luca said softly. “These are just things.
Anything I give you, I can get again. A new office, a new chair, a new title.
I can always make more, buy more, build more. But your happiness? If I
lose that, I can’t get it back. And I never want to see you sad.”
Anya froze, struck by the softness in his voice. The honesty. The way he
said it—not as a charmer, but as a man who meant it.
She smiled at him. “Whoever ends up marrying Luca Stanson is going to be
the luckiest woman alive.”
Luca turned away, ears tinged with red.
Anya couldn’t help letting out a little laugh.
How could someone so powerful, so sleek and commanding—blush like a
shy schoolboy?
Luca finally looked back at her, his composure returning.
“Do you want to start today?” he asked, his tone lighter now. “What
position do you want? You can start as the CEO if you want. I’ll help you
until you can run the show on your own.”
“No,” Anya shook her head, looking up at Luca and reaching for his arm
gently. “I want to start from a lower position. I need time to adjust, to
understand how the company works. I’ll learn first, then take on something
higher.”
“Alright,” Luca muttered, his voice softening. “Whatever you need. Where
do you want to sit? I can get a desk arranged right here in my office if you’d
like. That way, if you need anything—anything at all—you can ask me
directly.”
Anya chuckled softly, the corner of her lips lifting in a teasing grin. “I think
it’s better if I sit outside with the regular employees. If I’m in here every
day, people will start whispering. Didn’t you notice the glances people were
giving us earlier?”
“Let them talk,” Luca said flatly, without a hint of hesitation. His eyes
locked with hers, quiet but intense. He didn’t explain further, and he didn’t
need to. His meaning was clear in the way he looked at her.
Anya bit her lip and looked away, letting her eyes wander around the office
—anything to avoid meeting that gaze.
Anya left his office a little while later, only to stop just behind a corner wall
when she heard voices.
“That new girl’s been in Mr. Stanson’s office for more than half an hour.
What do you think they’re doing?”
“I don’t think Mr. Stanson’s interested in her like that,” another replied. “He
seems too serious for that kind of thing.”
“I don’t care what she is,” a third voice chimed in coldly. “She’s just
another employee. She’s not going to be anything permanent in his life.”
“Are you sure? They seemed pretty close,” someone else said.
“I’m sure,” the first voice muttered.
The first woman scoffed, then leaned closer. “By the way, I heard Mr.
Charles’ daughter is joining the company today. Any idea when she’s
coming? I haven’t seen any other girl around yet.”
“Could it be that the girl who just came in with Mr. Stanson is her?”
Just then, one of them stepped forward. “Let’s go find out.”
They all started walking toward the room—only to freeze as Anya stepped
out, standing right in front of them. The girls jumped back in shock.
One of them clutched her chest, startled. “What the hell!”
“Oh my god,” another hissed, “were you spying on us, you eavesdropper?”
Anya let out a loud sigh of annoyance. “Don’t you have work to do or
something? Or are you here just to fight with me?”
The girls chuckled bitterly, looking her up and down.
“From where does she look like Mr. Charles’ daughter?” one sneered.
“There’s just no way.”
Just then, Luca stepped out of the office. The girls didn’t notice him at first
as they continued ridiculing Anya.
“You’re just another employee,” one snapped. “Stop acting like you’re
special. If you keep sneaking around like this, one of us is gonna deal with
you.”
Luca’s jaw tightened, his gaze turning dark as he stepped up beside Anya,
glaring at the group.
“What did you just say to her?” His voice was sharp as steel.
They turned and froze at the sight of him standing beside Anya, arms
crossed, face dark with fury.
One girl let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, it’s nothing, Mr. Stanson. We were
just talking to the new girl—”
“Yeah, I heard,” Luca cut in coldly. “Is this how you speak to everyone
here, or just the ones who haven't even finished their first day?”
“No, Mr. Stanson, that’s not it,” one of the girls stammered, but Luca
silenced her with a sharp glance.
“She’s going to be the—”
“—COO’s secretary,” Anya interrupted immediately, stopping Luca before
he could say anything further.
Luca gave her a questioning look, but she motioned for him to stay quiet.
“Let me handle it,” she whispered.
The girls blinked. “Oh, so you’re Mr. Stanson’s secretary? You should’ve
told us earlier.”
They gave forced laughs, trying to play it off.
“Well, that explains it,” another girl chimed in.
“I was wondering why you were in his office for so long—”
She stopped mid-sentence when the others shot her a warning look.
“Get back to work,” Luca ordered, voice clipped.
Then he turned to Anya and said, quietly, “Come. Let’s go. I’ll help you
with the tasks for today.” He guided her back into his office.
Later that evening, Anya returned home just around dinner time. The sky
outside was dimming, painting soft golden streaks across the windows.
Though she’d only joined the company today, she was already feeling the
pressure of everything she needed to learn. Luca had insisted she leave
early to get some rest.
She kicked off her heels and collapsed onto the couch with a sigh of relief.
A maid stepped into the living room, glancing around as if searching for
someone. When she saw only Anya, she walked over.
“Ms. Anya, has Mr. Luca returned with you?”
“No,” Anya answered, stretching as she sat up. “He’s still working. He
asked me to go home first. Why?”
“I was wondering if I should serve your dinner now or if you’ll wait for
him,” the maid said politely.
“I’m just going to take a shower first, then I’ll eat,” Anya replied with a
tired smile, already getting up and stretching. “I’m exhausted.”
Just then, the doorbell rang, and both women looked toward the door.
“Who could it be at this hour?” Anya muttered, standing up.
“I’ll go check,” the maid said quickly. She rushed to the door and glanced
through the camera before turning back to Anya with wide eyes.
“Ms. Anya, it’s Mrs. Kingsley. Janet Kingsley.”
“Shit,” Anya hissed under her breath, her entire body going still.
Anya’s body stiffened at the mention of Janet’s name. She had almost
forgotten about the woman’s persistence. But Janet was not the kind of
woman who let herself be forgotten for long.
“I’m going upstairs,” she said quickly. “Just tell her no one’s home. Say
Annie is sick and can’t meet visitors.”
The maid nodded, and Anya disappeared up the stairs.
The maid opened the door, and Janet was standing there with a large basket
of fruit, dry fruits, and chocolates in a box.
“Mrs. Kingsley,” the maid greeted her, stepping aside slightly.
“Hi! Where is everyone?” Janet’s voice was sugary-sweet. “I brought some
gifts!” She tried to step inside.
The maid didn’t move. She stood firm, blocking the doorway politely but
clearly.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Kingsley, but no one is at home today," the maid said, her
voice polite yet firm. "Miss Annie is also sick, so she can't see you."
Janet shoved past the maid, storming into the house, her eyes scanning the
surroundings. "That's alright. I'll wait for Charles to come home or for
Annie to feel better,” she said, as if she owned the place.
"Mrs. Kingsley, I really can't let you stay," the maid insisted, trying to block
her.
But Janet ignored her, pushing past her roughly as she stomped deeper into
the house.
Just then, Charles walked through the door, and entered the house, his eyes
immediately narrowing when he saw Janet.
His jaw tightened at the sight of Janet, and the anger he'd been harboring for
the way Dante had treated Anya flared up again. He also knew Janet’s
personality. He was always able to see through her facade of sweetness. She
was nothing but a greedy woman, and he didn't want her anywhere near
Anya.
Janet, noticing Charles, immediately plastered a grin on her face and
walked toward him. "Oh Charles, you’re finally home! I was wondering if
I’d get to see you today." She offered him the gifts. "I thought Annie would
enjoy these."
Charles didn’t even glance at the gifts. His jaw tightened, his face hardening
with the anger he’d been holding back. "What are you doing here?" Though
he tried to mask it, his displeasure was clear.
Janet took a half-step back, her smile faltering for a moment before she
quickly recovered. “I brought some medicine for Annie. Remember that
skin doctor I had mentioned? I went to see him just for her, and he
prescribed this. It should help with her treatment.”
"We don’t need it," Charles replied curtly, brushing her off. "You can leave
now."
Janet was taken aback by his coldness but quickly regained her composure.
“Why don’t I stay and help apply the medicine on Annie? I’m sure it would
be good for her.”
Charles snapped. "She has everything she needs, Janet." His tone was
sharper now. "Leave this damn house. Now."

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 18 JEALOUSY
Janet’s eyes widened, but her pride wouldn’t let her back down. “Charles, is
something wrong? Why are you so upset today?”
Charles' eyes darkened, and he took a deep breath. "It’s nothing. Just not a
good time. Please leave.”
He turned away and headed into the house, giving a curt order to the maid.
"Close the door once she leaves."
Janet, humiliated and angry, huffed loudly.
She wanted to lash out at Charles, but she knew better. If she wanted to
secure a future with Dante, she needed to keep a low profile. So,
swallowing her pride, she glanced back into the house one last time before
stepping outside, her glare burning a hole in the door as it shut behind her.
Upstairs, Anya had been listening to the entire exchange. When she finally
came down, Charles’ stern expression softened the moment he saw her. His
anger faded, replaced by a tenderness that only Anya could bring out.
"Come here," he said softly, lifting his hand toward her.
"Hey, Dad," she said softly, walking up to him.
He smiled and lifted a hand to gently pat her head. "How was your first
day?"
"It was alright," Anya answered, her tone casual, but her eyes lingered on
him with concern. "But you don’t look alright, Dad. What’s wrong?"
Charles’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. His skin was pale, and there was
a shadow of exhaustion on his face that hadn’t been there before. It made
him look older than he was, as if the weight of something heavy was
pressing down on him.
"I’m fine," he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Don’t
worry about it. I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you again, I promise."
Anya’s concern deepened. "Dad, what’s going on?"
Charles exhaled deeply, brushing a hand over his face before giving her
another forced smile. "Nothing. I just miss your mom," he said quietly, his
voice breaking just a little. "You need to study hard and take over the
company soon, so I don’t have to worry about you anymore, okay?"
Anya nodded, but her eyes were still filled with worry.
He smiled at her, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He turned and walked
away, his shoulders slumped, his steps slow. Anya’s heart tightened as she
watched him go, the unease growing in her chest.
***
Triston walked into Dante’s office with a slight frown on his face, his eyes
scanning the room.
"Where’s Anya?" he asked, his voice tinged with confusion. "She still
hasn’t come back?"
Dante didn’t look up. His focus remained on the stack of papers in front of
him, his finger mechanically scrolling through them, but his mind was
elsewhere, swirling with thoughts that had nothing to do with work.
“You’re really going to fire her and just leave it like that?” Triston asked,
frowning at Dante’s silence. “Last time I was here, your secretary said Anya
took two days off for a sprained ankle. And when she finally came in, she
found out you’d fired her.” He paused, disbelief in his voice. “I thought
you’d bring her back by now. Don’t tell me you actually let her go for
good.”
Dante’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. "What?" he asked, his
voice almost a whisper. "She took two days off because she had hurt her
leg?"
Triston stared at him, his face shifting from concern to disbelief. "You
didn’t know? Why are you looking at me like that? Why do you look so
surprised?"
Dante stood up, his eyes fixed on Triston, though he wasn’t truly seeing
him.
His mind was spinning, replaying that day at the courthouse—how he’d
walked away from her, seething. And when she didn’t show up at the office
for the next two days, his anger only deepened, pushing him to impulsively
replace her with a new secretary without a second thought.
But he hadn’t known she was hurt.
Triston let out a sharp breath as realization hit him. "Wait… you fired her
because she didn’t talk to you, and also took two days off without telling
you? And you didn’t even check on her for two days?"
Dante didn’t answer. He just stood there, the reminder of what he’d done
sinking in, heavy and unforgiving.
Dante gritted his teeth, his head dropping as he stared blankly at the table.
“Are you regretting firing her now?” Triston asked, half-teasing.
Dante’s eyes slowly lifted to meet his, cold and sharp. The dark intensity in
his gaze instantly wiped the smirk off Triston’s face.
He cleared his throat, growing serious. “It’s too late anyway. She’s already
joined Carter’s company.”
Dante’s eyes immediately burned at the name. His entire body stiffened as
he looked at Triston, barely masking the anger rising inside him.
“She already started working for others?” he muttered, jaw tight.
Triston gave a casual shrug. “Yeah. She’s working at Carters’ company
now. I heard about it a few days ago.”
With every word, Dante’s face darkened, his eyes burning with rage.
Triston raised a brow. “You know what’s even more surprising? Luca,
who’s always kept his distance from women, hired her as his personal
secretary.”
“His personal secretary?” Dante’s tone dropped, low and dangerous. He
scoffed, rage flaring in his eyes. “She’s working as his personal secretary?
Personal fucking secretary to that—”
Triston leaned back against the table, a deep frown settling on his face.
“Now that I think about it… why would he make an exception for her?”
His expression tightened. “I always thought Luca would be more interested
in wooing the Carter family’s daughter. They’re family friends, and he
already handles most of their business. It just made sense.”
Then he paused. A thought suddenly hit Triston.
“Wait a fucking minute…” Triston’s eyes widened as something suddenly
clicked into place. His voice dropped, filled with disbelief. “What if… what
if Anya is actually Annie?”
He looked at Dante, whose expression had turned to stone.
“That would explain everything,” Triston went on, his words rushing now.
“Why she never told you where she’s living… why she suddenly got close
to Luca… and that million-dollar ring he gave her? Doesn’t that seem a
little too much for a ‘just friend’?”
His thoughts spiraled faster. “Now that I think about it, didn’t they find
Annie right around the time Anya got kicked out by the Foxes?”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
“Shit,” Triston muttered, voice low. “It’s her. It has to be.”
Dante’s expression went blank for a moment, his mind working furiously to
process what Triston had said. He remembered the day she left, the
frustration he felt, and now the reality of her being so close to Luca was
gnawing at him like acid.
“Luca’s always been this disciplined, uptight guy. No women, no
distractions. And now, suddenly, he hires her? No way. She’s gotta be
someone he’s close to. She’s probably been under his radar this whole
time.”
Dante’s fists clenched at his sides. His emotions were a storm inside him—
rage, jealousy, confusion. The thought of Anya being so close to Luca made
him uneasy. He couldn’t stand it.
“Anya told me he’s her friend,” Dante muttered, his voice low and
dangerous.
Triston snorted. “A friend? Seriously? The Fox family’s so irrelevant they
can’t even get past the security gates at the Carters’ place. Hell, they
wouldn’t make it through your front door if it weren’t for James and Griffin
being long-time friends. Then how can Anya have any connection with
Luca? And you think Luca—who’s never had a single scandal his whole life
—would make an exception for a random friend?”
His voice dropped, more serious now. “There were always rumors that Luca
and Charles were looking for Annie together. She’s the one who grew up
with him after his parents died when he was just a few months old. Luca
lived with Charles from a young age, and Charles made sure Luca inherited
his parents’ shares in the company. Luca also had control of their company,
and they were both focused on finding her.”
Dante’s hands clenched into fists at that. ‘That bastard.’ He swallowed the
curse, jaw tightening.
The thought that Anya and Luca shared a bond from the time they were
children made Dante feel sick. He hated it. He wanted to be the only man in
her life, the only one who ever mattered to her—past, present, and future.
“Luca was seven when Charles lost Annie,” Triston muttered, pacing now,
thoughts racing. “And she was only two. But Luca remembered her. Charles
always said that when Luca was young, he’d always thought he’d grow up
and marry Annie. And now that she’s back…”
He ran a hand through his hair. “So, here’s what I think. Anya’s gone back
to Charles and Luca. They’re giving her everything she needs, grooming
her to take over eventually.”
Then he stopped and turned to Dante. “But we need to confirm. Right now,
it’s all just guesswork. You haven’t seen Annie in all these months, have
you?”
Dante rubbed his eyes, frustration and anger making his vision blur. “She
never showed up… not on the date, not when we went to her house, not
even when we invited her out,” he muttered. “Charles kept saying she had
some kind of rare skin allergy—that it was contagious, so she’s been locked
in a room or something.”
Triston frowned, then scoffed, disbelief flashing in his eyes. “Dude, what
kind of fucking sickness or allergy lasts for months? That sounds like
bullshit.”
Dante met his eyes, his own frown deepening as the thought settled over
him, making him even more agitated.
Triston crossed his arms. “I think it’s time you stop waiting for answers and
see the truth for yourself. Maybe it’s time to let Anya reveal who she really
is.”
Dante’s jaw tightened. He clenched his fists, teeth grinding. “I even went to
get a marriage license with Anya,” he admitted, voice low and bitter. “She
kept saying she had something to tell me.”
Triston’s eyes widened. He stared at Dante, stunned. “She was at the
courthouse that day to get a marriage license with you?”
Dante nodded, his tone hardening. "We almost got it, but then I saw the ring
Luca gave her. I lost my mind and walked out."
“God damn,” Triston muttered, his jaw dropping in shock. “You seriously
walked away from your wedding? Five minutes before the marriage?”
Dante’s face tightened.
“When you told us that day you were going to get a marriage license but
didn’t go through with it, I thought maybe you broke up in a hotel room, or
some office, or some shit. But you left her just before you were about to get
that license?” Triston’s voice was rising with disbelief. “You’re telling me
you turned your back on her at the goddamn courthouse?”
Dante’s fists clenched. "Yeah, it wasn’t a damn chapel, Triston. It was just
the courthouse," he snapped, frustration leaking into his voice.
"Same damn thing!" Triston shot back. "Have you completely lost your
mind? How’s that any different from walking out on a bride, standing at the
altar, waiting for her fucking groom?"
Dante's eyes burned as the realization suddenly dawned, and his face tensed
up.
"In my jealousy, I hadn't even realized the gravity of my actions. I just
walked out without a second thought because I wanted to get away from
that place... that damn ring from Luca had burned me so much that it made
me think Anya betrayed me by accepting a ring from another man." He
spoke to Triston with a grim voice.
"You thought she cheated on you?" Triston asked, his voice tinged with
disbelief.
"No," Dante said immediately, then took a deep breath. "No. It wasn’t
cheating. It was just... I felt betrayed. Not by cheating, but by her refusing
to accept what I offered. She took it from another goddamn man. A man
who owns a multi-million-dollar industry and is on the same level as me."
Dante muttered, rubbing the back of his neck in tension. "I felt threatened. I
don’t know how to explain it, but I lost my mind. I didn’t think about
anything except the thought that Anya was going to be stolen by someone
else. I walked out first because I didn’t want to be the one left behind when
she left me."
Triston put his hands on his head and then looked at the ceiling in silent
contemplation.
"Are you even hearing yourself?" Triston questioned.
Dante’s anger flared again. He picked up a paperweight from the table and
threw it toward Triston. Triston caught it just in time, holding it in his hands
before it could hit him square in the forehead.
Triston finally tossed the paperweight onto the couch and turned to face
Dante.
"It doesn’t really matter if she’s Anya, or Annie, or some other goddamn
rich heiress hiding things from you. You need to get that girl back. And treat
her nicely. Treat her to the fucking world, for God's sake. You walked out
on her on her wedding day! Just imagine what was going through her mind
when you did that.”
Dante’s jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with intensity. Triston's words hit
him like a punch to the gut.
“If she’s willing to marry you at the courthouse with no expectations, no
deals, no prenup, think about how much she must like you to marry you.
And you walked out on her." Triston shook his head. "Holy fucking Hell,
Dante. How can you be this jealous?"
Dante gritted his teeth, his jaw tight as his mind raced.
His chest tightened with the thought that Anya might never come back to
him. The terror of losing her forever gnawed at him.
He hadn’t realized it until now, but he had let jealousy and pride cloud his
judgment.
***
At the Kingsley Manor, Janet paced back and forth, her eyes darting around
the room as unease settled deep in her chest. Something wasn’t right. The
pieces didn’t fit, and the more she thought about it, the worse her gut felt.
“That day… the sweater at the Carters’ house,” she muttered under her
breath. “And that voice. Right before Charles pushed me out—when he was
furious—I heard her voice when that maid closed the doors. It was so
familiar… no, identical to Anya’s.”
Her thoughts raced, chasing possibilities she didn’t want to face. “Could it
be true? Was Anya really Charles’ daughter? The long-lost Annie?”
She clenched her fists, panic beginning to crawl up her spine. “But I don’t
have proof,” she whispered. “How do I even begin to confirm this?” Her
lips curled in frustration. “Maybe I should just ask her directly. If it’s true,
she wouldn’t hide it from me. She’s probably dying to brag about it. It’s not
every day someone finds out they’re a goddamn heiress.”
Her stomach twisted at the thought. ‘If Anya really is Charles’ daughter… if
she goes back to them…’
“I’d lose everything,” Janet whispered, her voice shaking now. “If I let her
slip away, everything I built would fall apart.”
Without wasting another second, she grabbed her phone. Her fingers
hovered over the screen before she straightened her expression and finally
dialed Anya’s number.
The moment Anya answered, Janet launched in flatly, “I want to meet you.
Let’s meet at Evenlyn Café tonight. Six o'clock.”
“Why?” Anya replied in the same flat tone, not bothering with any greeting.
Janet frowned immediately. “What do you mean why? Because I asked you
to.”
“I’m not going to meet you, Mrs. Kingsley,” Anya said coldly. “I have no
interest in ever seeing you again—even if we cross paths on the street.”
Janet’s face burned with anger. “Why are you talking to me like this? I
really have something important to discuss with you.”
“I’m sure you do,” Anya muttered, her voice sharp. “But what’s important
to you isn’t important to me.”
Just as she was about to hang up, Janet blurted quickly, “Are you still angry
about that little fight the day you left?”
“A little fight?” Anya scoffed. Her voice rose. “You call that a little fight?
That day, you almost had me raped, assaulted, and humiliated. And now
you’re seriously asking me this?”
Janet took a deep breath, forcing her voice to stay calm. “Alright, alright—I
get it. Maybe it was my fault. I shouldn’t have tried to scare you. But look,
we’re talking now, right? You stayed at our house for some days. Can’t we
meet once and forget it? Start fresh?”
Anya’s response was colder than ice. "I’ll think about it."
“There’s nothing to think about. You just have to come and talk to me. A
quick chat tomorrow at the café—”
“I said I’ll think about it,” Anya said firmly. “If I want to meet, I will.”
And with that, she hung up, jaw clenched in frustration. Just as she
slammed her phone on the table, it rang again. Dante’s name flashed on the
screen.
She picked up the call anyway.
“What now?” she snapped. “Did your mother send you to convince me?”
On the other end, Dante frowned. Her voice was sharp, tense. “My mom
called you? Why?”
Anya let out a long breath and shut her eyes briefly, seemingly realizing he
had no idea about Janet’s call.
“What do you want, Mr. Kingsley? What did you call me for today?"
There was a pause, and Dante’s voice dropped, a little darker. “You started
working at the Carters’?”
“Yes,” she answered plainly.
“As Luca Stanson’s assistant?”
“Yes,” Anya answered bluntly. “And what’s it got to do with you?”
Dante’s jaw twitched at her words, his lips tightening in anger. She was
treating him like a stranger—like he was just some annoying caller.
Anya continued, the bitterness in her tone clear.
“You fired me, remember? And since you left me at the courthouse—right
before we could get married—there’s no romantic relationship left either. In
fact, there’s no relationship between us at all anymore. So, why are you
suddenly so concerned about my life updates?"
Dante’s hand clenched around his phone. His eyes darkened as he stared out
the window at the cold, distant night sky.
“Let’s calm down,” he said quietly. “Don’t escalate things. I need us to talk
—patiently and calmly—”
“Oh, so now you want to calm down?” she scoffed bitterly. “Really?”
Then her tone turned sharp, unforgiving.
“I’m not interested in calming down. Goodbye. Don’t call me again!”
She moved to hang up when his voice snapped through the line again.
“You have to listen to me when I’m talking to you!”
“I’m not listening,” she shot back, her voice trembling with rage. “You
should take more time calming down. You don’t have to rush it. Take a few
years—and when you’ve finally calmed down to death, then maybe call
me.”
“I’m trying to have a fucking conversation with you, but you keep
arguing!” Dante hissed, his breath catching in frustration.
“Why should I listen?” she barked. “You didn’t listen to me when I tried to
explain! You left me—left me—alone at the courthouse like I was nothing.
You didn’t even glance back! I called out to you, and you walked off! So
how fucking dare you call me now, you asshole!”
“Hey!” Dante growled, his teeth grinding as he began pacing back and forth
in his office. “You don’t know why I walked off?! You already knew Luca
from before, didn’t you? But every time I was around, you pretended like
you didn’t know him!”
His voice was cracking with fury now, the image of her laughing and sitting
close to Luca in that photograph flashing before his eyes, eating at him,
gnawing at his control.
“And then you accepted expensive gifts from him? Am I dead to you? Why
didn’t you ask me for anything? Why didn’t you accept that ring when I
tried to give it to you? How the hell can you blame me for walking away
when you did all that so thoughtlessly?”
Anya let out a sharp, shocked laugh, nearly breathless. “You’re one to
talk?” she snapped. “Dante Kingsley, I didn’t come to the office for two
days, two damn days, and you replaced me?! You got another secretary
without even waiting 24 hours!”
Her voice trembled, not just with anger but with hurt.
“And you want to accuse me of not thinking about you? I could just as
easily accuse you of having women lined up behind my back, considering
how quickly you moved on. Who knows what you were doing to already
have someone ready to take my place?”
“Anya, you’re not making any sense,” Dante gritted out, spinning his chair
around in frustration and slamming a hand on his desk. “I’m asking you all
these things clearly because I don’t want any other man in my woman’s
life!”
Anya’s eyes flashed with anger. "So you’re just going to just walk away
every time there’s something you don’t like?" Her voice rose, getting
sharper.
“Great. Good to know that. I don’t want to be with someone like you.
You’ve already found yourself a new secretary—now go and find another
damn woman to marry!”
She slammed her fingers on the phone, pressing the red button until it
disappeared completely.
Dante stood there, the line going dead in his ears. He tossed the phone to
the table.
His already dark expression somehow turned even darker. He slammed the
phone down onto the table, his frustration bubbling over. Without a word,
he grabbed the vase from his desk and hurled it across the room. It slammed
into the wall with a deafening crash.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 19 ANIMAL
Outside his office, the employees jumped at the sudden noise. Everyone
exchanged glances, their eyes wide with fear.
“Did… did you do something to upset Mr. Kingsley today?” one girl
whispered to her colleague, who was trembling in her seat.
“You just went in there to give him files, didn’t you? What happened? What
did you do to make him this angry?"
“I didn’t do anything!” the girl stammered. “I just handed him the files you
gave me. What did you put in them?!”
“I didn’t change anything!” the other whispered back in a panic. “Why is he
so mad?!”
Another loud crash echoed from the CEO's office. Both girls yelped,
making them nearly jump out of their skins.
Inside, Dante ran a frustrated hand through his hair, pacing back and forth
like a caged animal. Anger surged through him, but underneath it all was
something worse—desperation.
He hadn’t spoken to her in almost a week. He thought she would call, that
she’d come to him to clear things up. She would show up at his office
again, or his home. Hell, even his car.
He’d even started staying late at the office, waiting for her to show up to
have a talk, but she never did. His patience had run out, and with each
passing day, the fear crept in a little more.
Now, when he finally tried to reach out, she was ignoring him. His chest
tightened, a mix of frustration and something far more unsettling taking
hold.
‘Is she really going to leave me?’
The thought hit him like a hammer, making his chest tighten, and he found
it almost impossible to breathe. The very idea of losing her was enough to
make his heart race with panic.
He quickly grabbed his phone and dialed her number again.
Call rejected.
He stared at the screen, jaw clenched, and called again.
Again—cut off instantly.
He gritted his teeth, brow furrowing in frustration, and tried once more.
This time, the call ended even faster.
His patience was gone. Sanity was slipping with every failed attempt to
reach her. The more he tried, the more she pushed him away.
With a furious growl, he stormed toward the door, flung it open, and
stepped out. The staff outside jumped to their feet. The entire floor went
still.
“You,” he barked, pointing at one of the two trembling assistants. “In my
office. Now.”
The girl nearly cried on the spot. Her friend looked at her with wide,
terrified eyes, silently pleading for her to be careful.
Legs shaking, the girl stood and walked toward his office like she was
going to her doom.
The moment the door shut behind her, she started speaking in a rush—
before Dante could even say a word.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm very, very sorry. I didn’t mean to mess things up. Please,
give me another chance. I’ll fix it."
Dante turned to her, his brows furrowed in a deep scowl, his expression still
thunderous.
"What?"
"I'll fix it. Whatever the problem is, I’ll take care of it," she stammered, her
voice barely above a whisper.
He stared at her for a moment, eyes hard and confused. He let out a sharp
breath, then barked, "I need to make a call. Can I use your phone?"
The girl froze in shock for a moment, but the next second, she scrambled to
pull her phone out of her pocket and handed it to him without hesitation.
"Of course, sir. Please, here. Talk for as long as you need."
"Thanks," Dante muttered, taking the phone from her. She was too grateful,
nearly bowing as she backed out of the room, practically running out as if to
escape his wrath.
Dante took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He dialed Anya’s
number once again, using the assistant's phone. After a few rings, she
finally picked up.
"Hello?"
"Anya!" he snapped, his voice rough with anger. "How dare you cut off my
call?!"
"Why can't I?" she retorted. "It's my phone!"
"Answer me," he gritted through his teeth. "Why did you take that ring from
Luca?"
"Oh my god!" she cried out, exasperated. "Are you out of your mind? Why
are you getting this jealous over something so small?"
"I'm not jealous!" Dante growled, his voice harsh. "I don’t get jealous. I
have everything! Why the hell would I be jealous of anyone in this fucking
world? Just answer the damn question!"
Dante could almost hear her rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.
“Dante Kingsley, you’re like that ex who refuses to accept what’s in front of
them until it’s ruined. And now you’re calling me back, not even admitting
you’re jealous. That’s rich.”
Dante's entire body stiffened. His voice dropped, the warmth evaporating
from his words as he responded, his anger now taking on a dangerous edge.
"Meet me at Skyline Dining in an hour. We're having dinner together."
Dante wanted to show her that she mattered to him the most. That he could
give her everything that no one else could.
“I don’t want to have dinner with you,” Anya snapped immediately. “You
can eat on your own. Or maybe you can take your new secretary with you.
That should make you very happy.”
Dante’s grip on the phone tightened. His voice dropped into a dangerous
growl. “I’m not jealous. I’m angry. How the hell could you take a ring from
another man when I could give you ten times better?”
"Goodbye," Anya said coldly, her voice sending a chill down his spine. "I’m
done with this."
Dante's entire body stiffened. His voice dropped, the warmth evaporating
from his words as he responded, his anger now taking on a dangerous edge.
"Meet me at in an hour. We're having dinner together."
"I don't want to have dinner with you," she snapped immediately. "You can
eat on your own. Or maybe you can take your new secretary with you. That
should make you very happy."
Before Dante could respond, she hung up, her voice leaving a chilling
silence behind. He stared at the phone in his hand, his anger reaching a
boiling point.
He cursed under his breath. He dialed her number again, this time from his
own phone, but it went straight to voicemail. She had blocked him.
Frustrated and seething, Dante grabbed the other phone from the desk,
rising from his chair with a ferocity that startled everyone in the office.
He stormed past the assistants, tossing the phone back to the girl who was
sitting, staring at him in shock. Without sparing her a second glance, he left
the office, his expression dark, his anger a storm inside him.
***
Anya was heading to the main road to wait for her driver to bring the car
when, as she lifted her eyes, she spotted Dante leaning against his car. His
arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes cold and intense, locked directly
on her.
She immediately changed her path, walking in the opposite direction. But
before she could take a single step, Dante was there, his movements swift
and determined. He grabbed her, lifting her off the ground and throwing her
over his shoulder.
"Hey! Put me down!" she snapped, struggling in his grip. "Let go of me!"
But Dante wasn’t listening. His hold on her tightened, and he carried her
effortlessly toward the car. With a forceful shove, he threw her into the
passenger seat.
"I'm not going anywhere with you!" she gritted out, pushing against him in
an attempt to escape, but he leaned over, grabbing her wrist and yanking her
back against the leather seat.
He kissed her fiercely, pressing his lips hard against hers, demanding and
urgent. His tongue slipped between her lips, licking her lower lip again and
again, tasting her sweetness, claiming her mouth as his own. She tried to
pull away, but his hand tightened on her jaw, tilting her head so she couldn’t
escape.
Her breath hitched, shallow and ragged as he crushed his mouth to hers,
swallowing every gasp, every protest. His voice rumbled low and
dangerous against her skin, “Make another sound, and I swear to God, I’ll
fuck you right here in this fucking car.”
“Are you out of your mind?” she hissed, trying to push him away. “This is a
public place—"
Before she could finish, he was on her again, kissing her fiercely, shutting
her words down with his lips. When he pulled back this time, he looked into
her eyes, his gaze burning with challenge.
"Keep talking. I fucking dare you, Anya. Keep talking.”
Anya’s mouth snapped shut. As furious as she was, she wiped her lips with
the back of her hand, huffed loudly, and turned her face away from him.
Dante didn’t move. He gently turned her face back to his, his eyes scanning
her expression. Seeing the fury still etched on her face, he leaned in and
pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before pulling out of the car.
She roughly wiped away the trace of his kiss, growling in frustration.
Dante slid into the driver's seat and started the car, pulling away.
"What do you want to eat?" he asked after a moment.
Anya didn’t respond. She sat with her arms crossed, eyes locked on the
window as if he didn’t exist.
"Anya," he gritted out, his voice harder this time.
But she ignored him completely, her eyes still fixed on the world outside.
Then her phone dinged with a text. She glanced down, saw Luca’s name,
and opened the message.
‘Did you leave already? I brought the car around to take you home with me,
but I couldn’t find you.’
Anya frowned slightly, her fingers starting to type a reply.
"Anya, look at me," Dante growled, his patience running thin.
But she didn't even acknowledge he was there.
"Anya?!" he snapped again, but she was completely focused on replying to
Luca.
“I left—” she started to type.
Suddenly, Dante snatched the phone from her hand and glanced at the
screen. The name Luca stared back at him.
His jaw clenched. His entire body grew rigid. With a sharp motion, he
tossed the phone into the backseat, his grip tightening on the steering wheel
as he sped off.
"Now you're going to control my phone conversations too?" she snapped,
twisting in her seat to reach for it.
He grabbed her wrist mid-motion, turning her around to face him—one
hand driving, the other gripping her tightly.
“This is your last fucking chance to pay attention to me,” he growled, his
voice low and lethal. “If I see you give that phone, or anyone else, another
fucking second of your attention, we’re going straight to a hotel. I’m going
fuck my anger out on you until you remember who you belong to. And then
—we’ll have that goddamn talk.”
"Stop the car!" she spat, her voice full of defiance. "I don’t want to go
anywhere with you. Stop it right now."
The car screeched to a halt.
Anya unbuckled and threw the door open, jumping out. But before she
could get far, she heard footsteps storming after her. The next second, she
was in the air again—this time carried in his arms.
“Put me down!” she shouted, struggling in his hold.
He didn’t stop.
He carried her straight into Max Mall, cutting through the polished marble
entrance like he owned the place. Past the luxury boutiques and velvet-
roped lounges, he headed straight for the private elevators. Up they went,
all the way to the top floor, and through the towering glass doors of Skyline
Dining.
Skyline Dining, perched on the top floor of Max Mall, was a very luxurious
restaurant. Max Mall itself was a playground for the world’s richest—a
glittering, exclusive hub where wealth oozed from every corner. And the
restaurant? It was reserved for those who could afford more than just a
meal; it was a status symbol. The kind of place where reservations were
coveted, and entry was a privilege few could claim.
The restaurant, usually impossible to get into without months of planning
and an elite name, was completely empty.
He had booked the entire space.
That only made her panic grow.
"Let me go!" she gritted, but he didn't stop. He carried her inside, walking
straight to a seat.
With no one around, there was no way to escape, no one to distract him.
Nothing to stop whatever he planned next.
He settled her into the chair with a strange, fierce tenderness that made her
heart skip. Before she could even catch her breath, his hand shot up,
cupping her jaw with iron strength, tilting her face toward him.
His lips crashed onto hers. His tongue flicked out, tracing her lower lip
again and again, demanding entrance, and when she finally parted for him,
he slipped inside, swirling and tasting, pulling a gasp from deep within her
chest.
His grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin as he crushed her closer,
his breath hot and ragged against her cheek.
He only let her go when he’d had enough.
Anya finally gasped for air, panting as she pushed him away completely.
“Animal,” she snapped, wiping her lips furiously as he pulled back and
casually walked to sit opposite her.
Dante didn’t even blink. He gave her a cold, unreadable look, loosened his
tie, exposing the base of his throat slightly, then sank into the chair like
nothing had happened.
Anya’s gaze darted around the restaurant. It was empty. But something
about it tugged at her memory. She’d definitely been here before.
Then it hit her.
This was the restaurant she had come to with Luca just a few days ago—the
same night her picture had been taken with him and sent to every damn
news channel, reigniting scandal, headlines, and twisted lies about her
relationship with Luca.
She stiffened but said nothing. Pretending like it didn’t bother her.
But what did catch her attention was their table. It had been decorated
differently—scented candles, a few flowers in an elegant vase, some glittery
little details that gave the table a more romantic look. Not overwhelming,
but intentional.
She turned her eyes to Dante. "Did you arrange all this?"
Dante didn’t even glance up. “What?”
“The flowers. The decorations. Why does this table look like it’s set up for a
proposal?” she asked dryly. “It wasn’t like this when I came here last time.
There was none of this.”
He shrugged like it didn’t matter. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You’re lying,” she muttered.
Dante didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his head to the side, looking out the
window before his gaze snapped back to hers. A small frown appeared on
his face as he asked, voice low but serious, “Anya, I need you to answer me
properly. Truthfully.”
She tensed.
“Do you really have nothing going on with Luca?”
Anya took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before exhaling
sharply, then answered in a deadly calm voice, repeating herself for what
felt like the hundredth time. “He and I don’t have what you’re imagining.
He’s a friend. Nothing more. I have never hidden anything from you.”
“That’s not possible,” Dante said, his voice rising. “You expect me to
believe that you are around him, and he feels nothing for you?”
Anya was gorgeous. Every time Dante looked at her, the more he fell in
love.
The thought of keeping her to himself was the hardest challenge of his life.
If they hadn’t fought at the courthouse that day, if things had gone
differently, he might have married her by now so that no one else ever gets
a chance to snatch her from him. He wouldn’t have left her alone for a
second.
But now, the regret for letting her go, and the fear of getting replaced by
Luca was killing him.
And here she was, sitting across from him, telling him how Luca didn’t feel
anything for her.
"How the hell is that possible?" Dante’s voice was low, controlled but
seething with frustration.
"Why isn’t it possible?" Anya snapped back, leaning forward, folding her
arms over her chest. "Are you really going to do this?"
“Because he’s single. You’re single. You're with him every fucking day.
And now you’re his damn secretary? There’s no way he doesn’t feel
something for you."
Anya’s anger flared. ‘This damn man. He is possessive, controlling, and yet
so clueless. How can he not see I’m in love with him? I never look at
another man the way I look at him, but in his eyes, every other man is an
option for me.’
Anya slammed her hands on the table, leaning forward. “What about you
and your secretary then? You’re unmarried and now freshly single, and
she’s the same, isn’t she?"
“I’m not single,” Dante snapped. “I have a girlfriend. You. And you’re the
one I’m going to marry.”
"Not anymore. That ended the day you walked away from me at the
courthouse," Anya said coldly, her voice emotionless. "From the moment
you walked away, I stopped being your girlfriend, and I stopped being the
woman you were going to marry. That was the end of us."
The way Dante looked at her made her skin crawl. Dante’s stare turned
deadly.
Anya felt a shiver run through her. She knew he was angry, but she hadn’t
expected him to react like this. He had hurt her so deeply, and now, he
expected her to just sit down and talk it through like it was nothing.
“I don’t agree,” he said quietly. “I didn’t agree to a breakup. It doesn’t
count."
"I don’t need you to agree," Anya scoffed, voice hard. “I don’t want you as
my boyfriend anymore.”
His eyes scorched her. “Don’t fucking say that, Anya. You have no idea the
kind of things going through my mind right now. I am your boyfriend, and
your future husband.”
She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. “Oh please. Rich, coming
from the man who fired me, hired a new secretary within two days, and
then told me to get out in front of everyone. Now you want to play
boyfriend again?”
“I’ll transfer her. I’ll fire her right now if you want.” Dante’s voice was
sharp, urgent. “Whatever you want. Just say it.”
Anya stared at him, dark eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Why would you fire
her for me?"
“I don’t have any feelings for her. I can do whatever I want,” Dante said
coldly, his voice low and sharp. “And I don’t give expensive things—like a
million dollar ring—to people I know casually or to my secretary to get
attached to me or get the wrong idea."
Anya’s jaw clenched. Her fingers curled tightly into her lap, realizing that
he was once again referencing the ring Luca had given her. That damn ring.
The nerve.
But she forced herself to stay calm, her gaze locking onto his with ice.
“Fine. If that’s how you see it, then I won’t quit either. I have nothing to do
with Luca. We’re just employees at a company with a working
relationship."
“Anya—” Dante stood abruptly, anger flashing in his eyes just as a man
appeared beside them.
“Hello, Ms. Anya, Mr. Dante,” the man greeted cheerfully, unaware of the
tension boiling at the table. “I’m the manager of the hotel.”
Without waiting for a reply, he placed a dish between them with a polished
smile. “Ms. Anya, this is the special dish you loved last time. You were so
happy when you came here with Mr. Stanson.”
Anya froze.
The manager continued with too much excitement. “He had asked me to
make sure you’re always taken care of whenever you visit. He specifically
requested we serve you this dish.”
Dante’s face darkened. He straightened slowly, his shoulders tensing as he
glared at her.
“You came here on a fucking date with Luca?!”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 20 THE THIRD
WHEEL
Anya shook her head at once, trying to calm him down. “I didn’t! Stop it.”
But the manager kept going, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing at
their table. “And here’s the wine you enjoyed last time—1963 Charlotte.
You had mentioned how much you enjoyed its taste and texture. Mr.
Stanson also instructed us to bring this wine every time you come here,
whether alone or with friends. Of course, the bill will be covered by him."
The completely oblivious manager glanced between a fuming Dante and a
visibly stunned Anya. With a bright smile and a small nod, he muttered,
“I’ll send someone to take your order now,” and quickly walked away.
Anya’s eyes slowly shifted back to Dante, but he was already on his feet.
The chair behind him toppled with a loud bang, the crash slicing through
the restaurant like a gunshot.
“You even came here on a fucking date with Luca?!” Dante’s voice was
dangerously quiet, his anger barely contained.
“It wasn’t a date!”
"We’re at this point in our relationship, trying to talk things out, and I still
have to hear things like this? Do you really think I’m just another one of
your men you can twist around your little finger whenever you want?"
Anya let out a frustrated groan, pushing back her chair and marching over
to him. Her hands landed firmly on his shoulders as she forced him back
into his seat, and then went back to hers.
"The manager said I came here with Luca," she snapped. “He didn’t say it
was a date or that we were in a relationship. Did he?!”
Dante scoffed bitterly. “Why does that even matter? What difference does it
make, Anya? You came here with him, you sat together, and even the damn
restaurant staff knows you two well enough to bring your favorite food and
wine without you even asking.”
His voice rose, thick with disbelief and something deeper—something raw
and wounded. “You seriously expect me to believe that he feels nothing for
you? After hearing how that bastard takes care of you, remembers every
little thing about you? He acts closer to you than I’ve ever been allowed to.
So tell me—who is your boyfriend here? Him or me?”
He leaned closer, eyes locked on hers. “Because friends don’t do things like
this for each other, Anya. Not unless they’re something more.”
Anya’s breath hitched. Her heart pounded in her chest like it was breaking
free. She slowly pulled her hands back, retreating a step, trying to keep her
thoughts from spiraling. It felt like every word was pushing her further into
a corner.
This is falling apart.
Her mind raced, panic bubbling beneath the surface. The harder she tried to
explain, the more tangled everything became. ‘He’s getting so suspicious
about Luca and me now. I should just tell him the truth, confess I’m Annie.
About Luca… about everything.’
She took a steadying breath. “Alright, look. I’m not—"
He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. His face
darkened even further. He looked like he was trying to hold himself
together, but barely succeeding.
“It’s fine,” he said coldly. “I’m done.”
He turned sharply, voice low and shaking with barely-suppressed rage. “I
don’t care anymore.”
Anya watched him in shock, her heart sinking as she saw him start to storm
off.
And then something inside her snapped.
“You brought me here!” she shouted.
Her voice rang through the restaurant, stopping him in his tracks. Slowly, he
turned around to face her.
Her fists were clenched at her sides, and for the first time, Dante saw her
angry. Truly angry. Gone was the calm, composed woman he knew—now,
her eyes blazed with fury.
“You brought me here!” she repeated, stepping out from behind the table.
“You said you wanted to talk. You dragged me here. And now that I’m
trying to explain, you’re just walking away?”
Her voice trembled. “Dante Kingsley, I am losing my fucking patience. You
want answers? Then sit down and let me speak. But don’t you dare act like
you didn’t drag me into this conversation only to storm off when things get
uncomfortable.”
Dante’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together. He took a furious step
forward, hand rising as if to point at her—then stopped himself. His chest
rose and fell with ragged breaths.
“Stay? For what?” he snarled, his voice laced with venom. “To hear how
you and your fucking Luca are out here playing a happy fucking family?
About your little moments together? About how everyone thinks you two
are so damn perfect?”
His voice cracked with fury.
“I’m done, Anya. I’m not sitting through this bullshit anymore.”
Anya straightened her back, standing still, her eyes cold as ice as they
locked onto his. “Alright,” she said, her voice calm but final. “If you don’t
want to talk, then walk out. But if you walk out, remember—this is the
end.”
His frown deepened.
“This is the end of you and me,” she added with chilling finality. “You walk
out, and you’re out. No more talking. No more conversations. No more
meetings. Not about Luca, not about us—nothing. You and I will have no
relationship anymore.”
Dante’s temper exploded, jealousy burning so hot it threatened to consume
him. ‘First, she ruined this perfect fucking evening I planned for us, letting
Luca all over us. And now she has the audacity to threaten me, as if I’d die
without her?’ His vision darkened, rage flooding through him.
“If that’s what you want, then fine!” he snapped, his voice low and
dangerous. “I’m not going to be a part of your fucking harem of men!” With
that, he turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him as if he
could escape the fury eating him alive.
Anya stood frozen, her body tense, every muscle locked in place. Her fists
clenched, nails digging painfully into her palms. She remained motionless,
her emotions a chaotic storm inside her. It felt like she was losing control,
like everything she’d fought to hold onto was slipping through her fingers.
Then, in an instant, all the strength she’d been clinging to vanished. Her
body slackened, as if the weight of it all had crushed her. She turned, numb,
and walked back to the table, sinking into a chair. Her chest ached, and she
buried her face in her hands, fighting desperately to steady her breath.
“But we’re the gold customers of this restaurant! How can you stop us from
coming inside? Get me your manager!” A familiar, annoying voice echoed
from the door, and Anya stiffened at the sound.
“I don’t care,” came a cold reply, followed by the sharp sound of fast
footsteps as someone stormed inside. “So what if someone has booked the
whole place? We’re VIPs— we should be given priority—”
The voice abruptly stopped as it drew closer. “Anya?”
Anya looked up, her body still frozen. Zara stood in front of her, a boy next
to her. He was the type Anya would never give a second glance—his shirt
unbuttoned too far to expose his chest, a suit barely clinging to him, and
that arrogant, disgusting smirk on his face as he casually smoked a
cigarette. His arm was wrapped around Zara’s shoulder, leaning in to kiss
her ear lightly.
“Mark, look,” Zara giggled, her voice dripping with amusement and cruelty.
She tugged his arm like a spoiled child showing off a toy. “This is the girl I
told you about—the one my parents picked up off the streets. Pathetic, isn’t
she?”
Mark finally lifted his head, bored eyes landing on Anya with casual
indifference. But then, something shifted. That lazy gaze sharpened,
darkened, turning lecherous. His lips curled into a slow, mocking smirk.
Anya’s stomach twisted with disgust. She could practically feel the filth of
his stare crawl over her skin.
“Get lost, whatever your name is,” Anya muttered, her voice clipped and
icy, her posture stiff with restraint.
Zara’s amusement snapped into fury. Her perfectly painted lips thinned into
a sneer. “You know exactly what my name is, you bitch. You're a fucking
waiter here and still acting like a queen? Get in your lane. Go bring us
water.”
She slammed both hands on the table, the sound echoing sharply across the
room. A few heads turned. “I said, get the hell up!”
Anya didn’t budge. She sat there, spine straight, expression blank. But the
subtle tension in her jaw betrayed the irritation simmering beneath the
surface.
Just then, the manager rushed over, clearly flustered, his gaze flitting
nervously between them. “Ms. Fox, what are you doing to our guest?”
Zara scoffed, tossing her head back in a loud, derisive laugh. "Guest? You
call this penniless bitch your guest?" She gestured at Anya like she was
pointing to trash on the floor. "What kind of joke is that?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Fox. Mr. Wayne,” the manager said stiffly, stepping
between them now, a hand outstretched toward the door, “The restaurant is
closed to the public today. I’ll have to ask you both to leave.”
Mark bristled at the manager’s touch, his pride bruised, his temper barely
hanging by a thread. With a sharp jerk, he shoved the man’s hand away,
glaring like a cornered animal. His eyes landed on the untouched wine
bottle on Anya’s table—an easy target.
In a burst of drunken idiocy and wounded ego, Mark lunged forward and
grabbed the bottle. Without warning, he slammed it down against the table.
The bottle didn’t just thud—it cracked with a sharp, ugly sound.
Anya gasped and stumbled backward as deep red wine splashed across her
cream-colored dress, staining it like blood. The liquid spilled over the table,
dripping onto the floor, soaking into the linens.
And then, in the chaos of the moment, the bottle slipped from Mark’s slick
hand, striking the table’s edge and shattering into jagged pieces. A sharp
shard sliced clean across his palm.
Mark staggered back, staring at his hand in shock as blood began to drip,
bright red against pale skin.
“Oh my God, baby!” Zara shrieked, latching onto his arm like a lifeline.
Her eyes were wide with panic, but her tone was more drama than concern.
Mark looked like he was on the verge of tears, but he was too stunned to
react.
The manager, not wasting a second, brushed past them without so much as
a glance and rushed straight to Anya. He grabbed a stack of crisp, white
tablecloths from a nearby stand and handed them to her. “Ms. Anya, please
—your dress…”
Zara spun around, and exploded. “Are you fucking serious? My fiancé is
bleeding, and you’re worried about her dress?”
The manager slowly straightened, turning to face her. His expression was
cold, professional—merciless. “That bottle was worth fifty thousand
dollars, Ms. Fox. The bill will be sent to your home.”
Zara froze, her mouth falling open. “Fifty thousand? Are you fucking
serious? How dare—”
“And if you don’t pay and leave the premises immediately,” he cut her off
without blinking, “we’ll be calling the police. You’ll also be charged with
destruction of property and endangering a client.”
Zara stood there, trembling with rage and humiliation. But for once, she had
no comeback. She tightened her grip on Mark’s injured hand, and without
another word, dragged him out of the restaurant.
Silence followed their exit. The shattered glass still glinted on the table,
wine pooling on the floor like spilled blood.
The manager turned back to Anya, his voice softening. “I’m terribly sorry
about this, Ms. Anya.”
But Anya barely registered his words. After everything with Dante, she had
no energy left for Zara.
She gave a small, dismissive wave, scooped up her purse, and walked out of
the restaurant without a word.
The moment the door shut behind her, the manager picked up the phone.
His fingers moved fast, his voice clipped as he relayed every detail of what
had just happened.
On the other end, Charles sat frozen for a moment, absorbing the report.
Then his hand curled into a fist, shaking.
Charles, trembling with rage, dialed another number.
“Luca,” Charles snapped after recounting the entire ordeal, his voice sharp
with fury. “They don’t deserve to live in this city. I don’t care how you do
it. Get them out of my daughter's sight.”
“Consider it done by tomorrow, Uncle,” Luca said, his voice low and cold.
His eyes even more determined to protect Anya.
***
Anya returned home hours later, soaked in silence and exhaustion. She
didn’t look okay. Not even close.
Charles was pacing in the hallway, his phone in one hand, his other raking
through his hair. The second he saw her, the worry on his face deepened. He
dropped everything and rushed toward her.
“Anya. Are you alright? What happened?”
She didn’t speak. She didn’t speak. She simply walked into his arms and
hugged him tightly, burying her face in his chest.
Charles wrapped his arms around her, instinctively protective. His hand
cradled the back of her head, stroking her hair in slow, calming motions.
Then came the broken whisper, barely audible. “Dad... I broke up with
Dante.”
Charles froze.
His arms didn’t loosen, but his heart stilled for a moment, caught off guard.
Anya slowly pulled back. Her eyes were rimmed red, and her voice cracked
with every word. “I met him today… tried to explain. He didn’t want to
listen. So I ended it. I don’t want anything to do with him again.”
“Alright,” Charles said at once, his voice firm. “There won’t be anything
between you and him anymore. No one will ever bring up his and your
relationship again. Don’t worry, Anya. It’s all over now.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she mumbled softly.
“So you’re not getting married anymore?” Charles added, there was a touch
of concern beneath his words.
Anya shook her head in quick denial, as though the very thought pained her.
“I won’t get married. I need to sort out my life first… I won’t rush into
marriage with anyone anymore.”
Charles nodded slowly, his expression softening. “Good,” he said quietly,
but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, almost a sigh in his
voice. “That’s alright. Take all the time you need—until you meet the right
person.”
“Yeah,” Anya muttered, her voice distant, as if her mind was far away. Then
she shifted, locking eyes with him. “Dad… I want to move out. I want to
live in an apartment by myself for a while.”
The words hit him like a blow. His face fell, and he immediately recoiled.
“No,” he replied, his voice quick and sharp, almost defensive. “Anya,
you’re living here. What’s wrong with that? Do you need anything?”
“Dad, it’s not that—”
“Tell me what you’re lacking,” he pressed, his voice taking on a pleading
tone. “I’ll arrange it for you. Whatever you need. Why do you want to live
alone?”
Anya’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Dad, I just need a little space for myself.
I feel so exhausted... I need to breathe. Just for a while. To be alone. To sort
through everything... my head is just too full.”
Charles’s expression faltered. The deep worry in his eyes gave way to a
silent sadness, and for a moment, he looked like a man who had been
punched in the gut. “Anya, I’ve only just found you again. How am I
supposed to bear losing you all over again?”
Her heart twisted. She didn’t want to hurt him. But she needed this. For
herself.
“Let’s make a deal,” she said, reaching for his hand. Her fingers trembled
slightly as they closed around his. “Dad, I’ll see you every day—no matter
when, no matter how. I’ll spend at least two hours with you, drop by
whenever I can. Maybe I’ll live just ten minutes away, maybe even next
door—I’m not sure yet. But I’ve grown up now. I just… need a little space
to be myself.”
His eyes softened, but the hurt lingered beneath the surface. He took a deep
breath, letting it out slowly as though he was willing himself to be strong
for her. “Alright then. If you want it that badly, I’ll let you be.”
Anya smiled and leaned in to hug him again. But even as she did, Charles
noticed—that smile never reached her eyes.
***
At Blue Orchid Bar – Manhattan, VIP Room 203
“You went to get an explanation, but without even hearing her, you just
walked out?” Triston’s voice rose over the low thrum of the music, pure
disbelief twisting his features. “And twice?! First when you were about to
get married, and then again when she tried to explain?”
The table was a mess of half-empty whiskey bottles, crystal tumblers, and
untouched cigars. The private lounge was dimly lit, shadows dancing off
the walls and low chandeliers. The heavy bass from the bar outside
thumped through the walls like a second heartbeat.
Four men lounged on sleek leather couches—each one a billionaire, each
carrying their own reputation, power, and arrogance. Raiden, Adrian, and
Triston all sat with glasses in hand, eyes fixed on the fourth man: Dante
Kinsley.
Dante leaned forward, elbows on knees, head low. He shrugged, expression
cold and detached. “It was just a court marriage.”
“Is that really any different?” Raiden asked, narrowing his eyes as he
swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “You left her right before she signed
her name next to yours. Doesn’t matter if there were guests or not. Wasn’t it
still a marriage?”
Dante’s jaw ticked. He grabbed his scotch and knocked it back in one rough
gulp, the burn doing nothing to dull the ache in his chest.
“It’s not the same thing,” he muttered, gritting his teeth. “I asked her what
was going on with Luca. She kept insisting they are just friends. And I
know—for a fucking fact—that man isn’t just a friend. He’s got a crush on
her.”
“But she doesn’t see him that way,” Adrian cut in, rough and blunt, as
always. “She told you that. Isn’t that what matters?”
Dante turned to him sharply, his temper beginning to bubble. “Is that any
different? She took a ring from him. A fucking ring!”
“You talk like she married him, wore his ring, and then came running back
to marry you for fun,” Triston muttered, shaking his head as he lifted his
glass.
Dante didn’t respond. He just reached for the bottle again, eyes dark.
Raiden leaned forward, his fingers steepled together. “So… what are you
going to do now? No marriage?”
“If she won’t explain what’s going on in her life or with Luca, then I won’t
wait around either,” Dante growled, his voice tight with wounded pride.
“I’ll marry another fucking woman. I’m not going to die single because of
that little annoying thing!”
The room went dead silent.
No one responded. Triston looked away, his brow creased. Adrian stared
into his drink. Raiden’s expression didn’t change, but the air had shifted.
It wasn’t the words—but the bitterness behind them.
The men exchanged looks, each one quietly sipping their drink.
Raiden finally sighed, sliding an untouched glass of whiskey toward Dante.
“You’ve probably made a huge mistake, brother,” he said quietly. “And
knowing women, that girl’s probably never coming back to you again.”
Dante stiffened at the words.
‘If you walk out that door, then we’re done. We won’t have anything to
do with each other anymore.’ Anya’s voice echoed in his mind,
repeating over and over again since the moment he’d stormed out of
the restaurant.
His chest tightened. He grabbed the bottle and poured himself another glass
—this time to the brim.
He downed it in quick, harsh gulps, but the pain in his chest only grew more
intense.
Just then, the door opened and Jennifer walked in. Hands clasped behind
her back, she leaned close to Dante and spoke quietly.
“Mr. Kingsley… it’s about Ms. Anya and Mr. Stanson,” she said softly.
Dante’s head snapped up. His brows furrowed.
“What about them?”
“They’re attending an auction together tomorrow evening,” Jennifer
replied. “Since you’d asked me to report anything involving the two of
them, I came right away.”
“Auction?” Dante repeated, eyes narrowing. “What kind of auction?”
“It’s a high-profile diamond auction, sir. Exclusive entry. Requires a female
companion for attendance.”
Dante’s jaw clenched. His glass cracked slightly in his grip, but he didn’t let
go.
“They’re going together?” he asked again, just to confirm.
“Yes, sir.”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. His knuckles turned white.
“You will go with me tomorrow,” he said coldly. “Call whoever you have to
—make it fast.”
Jennifer gave a crisp nod. “Understood, sir.”
Raiden snickered, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “So you're stalking
her now? After throwing a tantrum and swearing you’ll marry someone else
just because she had lunch with another man? What’s next—want to be the
third wheel now?”
Dante’s grip tightened. He slammed his glass down hard enough to make
the bottles rattle on the table. “If anyone’s a third wheel, it’s that bastard
Luca!” he snapped, his voice laced with venom. “He’s the one always
hanging around her like a damn leech!”
Adrian shrugged and said casually, “By walking out when she gave you the
chance to marry her, and then making it clear you didn’t want to be part of
her ‘harem of men’—you practically handed her over to Luca.”
Dante’s eyes snapped to Adrian, furious and pissed off.
Adrian smirked, taking a sip before twisting the knife just a bit deeper. “So
brother, now you’re just the guy watching from the sidelines. A third wheel
who won’t leave his ex-girlfriend alone.”
Dante’s chair scraped violently against the floor as he stood up, the screech
piercing through the music.
“Fuck!” he hissed under his breath before stomping out of the bar.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Behind him, the three men snickered under their breath, smug smirks and
knowing glances shared between them as they watched him go.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 21 WE’RE
OVER!
“I feel so nervous,” Anya muttered, her fingers fidgeting on Luca’s arm.
“This is going to be my first appearance as someone’s partner at a business
auction.”
Luca gave a soft chuckle and patted her restless hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be
with you the whole time.”
Anya looked up at him, her wide eyes filled with unease. Her silver gown
shimmered under the soft chandelier lights, hugging her delicate frame and
exuding elegance with every step she took. Her hair was styled into a sleek
bun, a few loose strands framing her face to soften the look. She looked
stunning, but the anxious glimmer in her eyes betrayed her discomfort.
Luca, on the other hand, looked like he’d walked out of a magazine cover—
dressed in a tailored white suit, crisp and clean, with a pale blue shirt left
slightly open at the collar. No tie. Just effortless confidence. The hint of his
collarbone, paired with his gentle eyes and well-defined jawline, made him
look every bit the charming gentleman—cool, composed, and perfectly
poised beside her.
Anya swallowed hard and nodded slightly, her lips pressed into a tense line.
Her heels clicked softly as they entered the grand ballroom together,
drawing curious glances.
The event space was filled with socialites, business elites, and media
whispers—but Anya held her head high, clutching Luca’s arm for strength
as they took their seats near the front.
Soon, the auction began. Hosts welcomed the guests, and luxurious
diamond pieces started appearing on display. Bids rose quickly. Laughter
and soft chatter blended with the sound of numbers being called out.
But as the excitement buzzed around her, Anya’s attention wavered.
Her gaze drifted through the crowd until it locked onto a shadowed figure
seated just a few rows away.
Dante.
His presence hit her like a sudden chill. He sat tall in a sharp, black suit.
Beside him was Jennifer. She wore a dull gray business suit, her hair tied
tightly back, expression polite and impersonal.
When Dante caught her gaze, he noticed how she looked at Jennifer, then
back at him—but her expression didn’t change.
Dante’s jaw clenched.
‘She’s not even jealous?’ he thought, the bitterness rising in his chest. ‘She
saw me with Jennifer and didn’t even blink?’
His fingers tightened around the glass of champagne in his hand.
‘Does she really not care about me anymore?’
Anya met Dante’s stare, refusing to flinch—until he narrowed his eyes ever
so slightly and tilted his head, a silent warning in his gaze. The gesture was
subtle but enough to send a chill crawling down her spine.
His expression wasn’t loud, but it was laced with possessiveness and
something darker—resentment. As if he was asking her without words:
How dare you sit beside him?
Her throat tightened. She quickly turned away, refusing to give him another
glance, but she could still feel his glare burning holes into her back—hot,
heavy, piercing.
“Anya, how about that one?” Luca leaned toward her, speaking softly to
catch her attention.
She blinked, shifting her gaze toward the display. A radiant diamond had
just been unveiled—large, with rare deep pink and maroon hues that
sparkled under the spotlight like fire and wine fused into stone.
“It’s beautiful,” Anya whispered, eyes widening in awe. “Oh my…”
“You like it?” Luca asked, watching her light up. “Do you want it for
yourself?”
She turned to him, surprised by the question. His expression was calm,
affectionate even, with a smile on his lips.
“Is that possible? Can I?” Her voice came out breathy, a mix of disbelief
and wonder.
“Of course. We can buy other diamonds for business.” Luca replied easily,
his tone confident. He gently patted her hand. “Anya, you’re the daughter of
one of the wealthiest men in the country. His entire empire is already yours.
Don’t overthink something like this.”
A grin stretched across Anya’s face—soft, genuine. She squeezed his hand
and said excitedly, “Then I want that diamond, please. I want it so much.”
Without hesitation, Luca turned to the auctioneer and raised his bidding
paddle.
“Sixty million.”
The hall stilled instantly.
All whispers died. Heads turned. It was the highest bid so far.
But the silence shattered a heartbeat later—by a calm, clipped voice from
across the room.
“Seventy.”
Everyone turned toward the sound. Luca and Anya’s heads snapped in the
same direction.
Dante.
He sat relaxed in his seat, one arm draped over the back of the chair, but his
eyes were locked on them—cold, challenging, and sharp as a blade. He
didn’t even glance at the diamond. He only stared at Luca, as if daring him.
Anya’s breath caught.
Luca’s jaw flexed, his fingers curling around the paddle again.
“Eighty,” he bit out, raising the bid without looking away.
“A hundred,” Dante called out immediately.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Luca was already lifting his paddle again, jaw tight. “One hundred and
twenty-fi—”
“Two hundred million,” Dante cut in, his tone sharp and careless—like he
was simply stating the weather.
The crowd burst into a mixture of shocked gasps and murmurs. Even the
auctioneer blinked twice, stunned.
Luca tightened his grip on the paddle, a vein ticking along his temple. He
was just about to raise it again when Anya reached over and grabbed his
hand.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Let him have it if he wants it that badly.”
He looked down at her, disbelief and irritation flashing in his eyes. “He’s
doing this on purpose. It doesn’t matter, Anya. We can afford it. Don’t
worry.”
“That diamond isn’t worth more than a hundred and fifty million,” she said,
eyes on his. “There’s no point paying double just to prove something to
him. Let it go. I don’t even like it that much. I will just get another one.”
Luca hesitated—then finally exhaled and lowered his hand, frustrated but
listening to her.
“Two hundred million going once… twice… sold!” the auctioneer finally
declared, his voice ringing through the hall.
A murmur spread like wildfire among the guests as the auctioneer raised his
hand toward Dante’s table and announced him the winner of the bid.
Luca shook his head slightly, clearly displeased, but Anya gave him a gentle
pat on the arm and smiled.
“I’m fine. It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t even that pretty.”
A few rows away, Dante sat as if carved from stone. His jaw was clenched,
his posture rigid. Every inch of him radiated tension as his gaze drilled into
the two of them whispering together.
The auctioneer approached him with the diamond displayed on a velvet-
lined gold platter, but Dante didn’t take it. Instead, he leaned forward and
muttered something to the man.
The auctioneer blinked, nodded in absolute shock, and turned on his heel—
making his way toward Anya and Luca, who had just stood from their seats,
preparing to leave.
“Miss Anya,” the auctioneer said politely, stopping in front of her. “Mr.
Kingsley would like to gift this to you.”
All eyes turned to Anya.
But she didn’t even glance at Dante, or the diamond. Her expression didn’t
change.
“I don’t want it,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Take it back.”
The auctioneer hesitated, clearly at a loss, glancing over his shoulder
toward Dante in growing discomfort.
But before anyone could process what was happening, the sound of firm,
determined footsteps echoed through the hall.
Dante was already striding toward her.
He didn’t stop until he was standing directly in front of her. His towering
figure cast a long shadow.
He reached out, picked up the diamond from the platter, and held it out to
her—his palm open, his eyes locked on hers.
Holding it out, he said softly, “Since you like it this much, then accept it.”
The stone sparkled under the lights, cold and brilliant.
Anya finally lifted her eyes to him, but there was no warmth in them—just
coldness, unlike the soft gaze he used to know.
“I only accept gifts from people I’m close to, Mr. Kingsley,” she said
calmly, her voice smooth and poised. “You and I are strangers now. So
please keep your distance, and don’t do things that could cause
misunderstandings for me.”
Dante’s face froze, as if slapped. Then he scoffed, the sound bitter and
disbelieving. “Strangers?”
Anya simply gave a faint shrug, tilting her head ever so slightly. “Yes. Just
strangers.”
The very next moment, Dante tossed the diamond back onto the plate. The
sharp clink echoed like a gunshot. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and
then he turned abruptly and stormed off.
The auctioneer flinched and bowed his head slightly, then quickly turned
away, carrying the diamond toward Jennifer, who stood up silently to
receive it.
The silence didn’t last long.
Gasps.
Then a rising storm of gossip:
“Oh my god… did she just talk to Dante Kingsley like that?”
“That was so damn bold of her. She rejected his gift?”
“Isn’t he, like, one of the richest men in the country? I’m dying just to get a
glance from him!”
“My sister tried to speak to him last week, but he didn’t even blink her way.
And now he’s offering a two hundred million dollar diamond to this girl?”
“Who is she? I’ve never seen her before. Is she from overseas?”
Within minutes, the entire hall was buzzing. People leaned in, whispered
behind hands, typed hurried messages under the table.
The gossip swirled like wildfire. Within minutes, the news of Dante
Kingsley offering a diamond to a mysterious girl—and being coldly
rejected—became the hottest, most scandalous topic in the social circle.
Dante stormed out of the auction hall, but didn’t leave the premises.
Instead, he stood in the dimly lit corridor just outside, half-shielded by one
of the marble pillars. The noise of the auction continued behind him,
muffled now, distant, like a world he no longer wanted to be part of.
It had been over a week since he last saw Anya.
And today, the way his heart reacted just from seeing her eyes again—it
made him feel like a damn fool. A starving man, desperate for a taste, only
to find her gaze colder than ice. She looked at him like he was nothing more
than a stranger in a crowded room.
As if he had never mattered at all.
Dante’s fingers clenched around the cigarette between them, his knuckles
whitening. He brought it to his lips and took a long drag, exhaling slowly as
the smoke curled in the cool evening air.
But the burn in his chest wasn’t from nicotine.
His jaw tightened.
A moment later, a familiar voice broke the silence.
“Mister Kingsley,” came a teasing drawl. “I heard you got publicly rejected
by a young girl today. That’s new.”
Dante’s brows twitched, irritation flickering through his expression as he
turned his head.
Adrian stood a few feet away, leaning casually against a pillar, amusement
dancing in his eyes and a grin tugging at his lips.
“I came too late,” Adrian continued with a light laugh. “Missed the whole
show, unfortunately.”
Dante let out a low breath, flicking ash from the end of his cigarette. His
tone was clipped. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Adrian shrugged, walking over with a relaxed gait, hands in his pockets.
“Got bored at the office. Figured I’d drop by for some high-society drama.
Never expected you to be the headliner, though.”
He stopped just a step away from Dante and leaned in slightly, voice
lowering with mock seriousness. “In Manhattan, women practically faint
just to be noticed by you. And today, one girl refused your gift. That’s gotta
sting.”
Dante said nothing, his silence seething.
Adrian smirked and tilted his head. “Tell me again, is that the same girl you
told me a few days ago you don’t care about? Or was she one of those
‘dozens’ you claimed you were just going to marry after leaving Anya?”
Dante’s hand tightened around the cigarette, the ember glowing hotter with
the pressure.
“Shut the fuck up,” Dante gritted out, his voice low and sharp with warning.
He dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his polished
shoe. The ember hissed and died beneath the weight, but the sigh that
followed couldn’t ease the pounding in his chest. His heart was restless—
furious, aching, and helpless all at once.
Adrian stood beside him, arms folded, his posture relaxed but his eyes
observant. He turned slightly, peering through the tall glass window into the
auction hall. His gaze found Anya, standing beside Luca, calm and
composed as if nothing had happened—as if she hadn’t just shattered
Dante’s pride minutes ago.
“That girl’s beautiful,” Adrian muttered under his breath. “And she’s smart.
She worked as your secretary and you never once had a complaint about her
performance.”
Dante turned to him, his brows furrowing.
Adrian met his gaze, face turning uncharacteristically serious. “Since you’re
clearly out of the picture now, maybe I’ll introduce her to some of my
single friends. I know a few who’d kill for a woman like that—poised,
gorgeous, and not swayed by wealth.”
Dante’s fists clenched instantly, his jaw tightening.
“Are you not going to stop talking?” he snapped. His voice dropped to a
dangerous growl as he stepped closer to Adrian, eyes blazing with fury.
“Try me. I fucking dare you.”
Adrian let out a quiet chuckle, but the amusement in his eyes faded as he
studied his friend’s expression.
Straightening his stance, he lowered his voice. “If you want her, act fast,
Dante. Or you’ll regret it. She won’t be lacking admirers. Girls like her
don’t wait around. She’s not one of your business acquisitions you can walk
away from and expect to renegotiate later on your own terms.”
He leaned in slightly, his tone cooling like ice. “This isn’t a contract. It’s not
a deal you can win back with power or money. That girl will move on faster
than you can blink. And if she does, she won’t look back.”
Dante’s jaw clenched as he turned toward the glass again. His gaze locked
onto Anya—laughing softly at something Luca had said, her hand resting
lightly in his. The way Luca looked at her like she was the center of his
universe, only made the burn in Dante’s chest worse.
Five minutes later, Anya stepped out of the hall, her expression calm as she
adjusted the strap of her purse. Luca had stayed behind, busy talking to one
of the auction organizers. She was alone now, moving down the quiet
corridor lined with golden-framed artwork.
She had barely taken a few steps when a firm hand grabbed her wrist from
behind and yanked her roughly.
She gasped, eyes flying wide.
Dante.
Before she could even speak, he was already dragging her down the
hallway, his grip tight.
“Let me go!” she snapped, trying to twist free, but he didn’t even look back.
His steps were hard and fast. He didn’t stop until they reached a heavy oak
door near the end of the corridor. With a swift push, he shoved it open and
pulled her inside.
The room was empty—likely a storage lounge used during events. He
slammed the door behind them and locked it with a loud click.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Anya hissed, whirling around. Her
voice was sharp, furious, but her chest rose and fell rapidly—her heart
pounding from the sudden force.
She turned to walk past him, but he blocked her path, pressing a palm
against the door.
She tried to move sideways, but he caught her shoulders and pushed her
gently but firmly back, caging her in.
“Move,” she demanded.
He didn’t.
“Isn’t this the only way left for me to have a fucking conversation with
you?” he said, his voice low, breath hot with frustration.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she snapped, eyes flaring. “And if I wasn’t
clear before, I’ve made it clear now.”
“You’re just going to ignore me now? Even after running into me?” Dante’s
voice was sharp with resentment as he closed the distance between them.
His hand shot out, grabbing her arm with a force that made her pulse race.
“It’s been over a damn week, Anya. Do you not miss me at all? How can
you treat me like a fucking stranger?”
Anya flinched slightly under his grip, but her gaze remained cold as she met
his eyes. “Then what are you?” she snapped, voice trembling slightly with
restrained emotion, though she made sure he couldn’t see it. “You made it
very clear the last time we met that you didn’t want to talk to me. So since
that’s the case, start by leaving me alone, Mr. Kingsley.”
The words seemed to snap something in Dante. He took a step forward,
towering over her now, his breath ragged and heavy as the anger in him
reached its peak.
His patience was gone.
“I love you!” Dante’s voice roared through the room, echoing like a wound
torn open. “Don’t you fucking get that? I’ve loved you since the moment I
saw you—and I love you now!”
She froze. Her body went stiff, heart racing. But then she looked into his
eyes, and her expression turned icy.
“How can you say this to me now?” Her voice was disturbingly calm, but
the chill in her tone made every word feel like a knife. “You walked out,
Dante. You said you didn’t want to hear anything from me. That you wanted
nothing to do with me. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Anya—”
“And you’re engaged, aren’t you?” She cut him off, her expression a mask
of indifference. Her eyes narrowed with bitterness as she stepped back
slightly, her body turning stiff. “To Ms. Carter? You already have a soon-to-
be wife. So stop following me around and focus on getting to know your
future bride. Don’t waste your time on me.”
Dante’s heart dropped at her words.
Anya wanted him to walk away. To let go of the idea of being with her—
because he didn’t know she was the very girl he was engaged to. He didn’t
want to marry Annie Carter anyway, so it wasn’t like he’d ever get to know
about her identity as Annie until her family announces it.
But instead, a small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was
taunting, almost as if he could see right through her. He leaned in, his breath
warm against her skin, lowering his head until they were eye-to-eye. His
voice softened, a dangerous glint in his gaze.
“You’re jealous?”
Her blood boiled. Anya shoved his hand off her arm roughly and glared at
him.
‘He thinks I’m jealous? Would I be jealous of myself?’ she scoffed
inwardly.
“Mr. Kingsley, I’m telling you this because you seem to have trouble
understanding—I’m no longer your woman. That woman was someone
else. Since you chose to walk out of my life, I refuse to be anyone’s
mistress. Stop trying to talk to me or showing up in front of me.”
“I don’t have any relationship with that girl,” he said through clenched
teeth, frustrated. “What the hell are you even talking about?”
“It doesn’t—”
“You don’t believe me?” he interrupted, a dangerous edge in his voice. He
reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone. His fingers dialed without
hesitation, his eyes never leaving hers. “Fine. I’ll call her right now. I’ll end
it. I’ll reject her on the phone—in front of you. I won’t even wait to meet
her. I’ll make it clear right now.”
Her heart stopped. Panic shot through her like an electric shock.
“No—there’s no need for that!” she blurted, her hand instinctively shooting
out toward the phone, but it was too late. He was already dialing. The line
rang.
In the same moment, Anya’s phone buzzed. Her heart skipped a beat.
Dante’s contact name flashed across the screen.
Her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes widened in horror. She
scrambled to pull her phone out of her bag, quickly hanging up the call. Her
hands shook as she put the phone on silent, desperate to keep the secret
from slipping out. She glanced at the screen—her battery was at one
percent.
The second she ended the call, her phone blacked out completely, shutting
off in her hands.
Dante glanced down at his phone, still unaware of the connection. He
frowned as the call cut off. “She didn’t pick up,” he muttered. “But I’ll call
again.”
“No, you won’t!” she shouted and snatched his phone, hurling it against the
wall. The device hit hard, shattered, and fell to the ground in pieces.
Breathing heavily, Anya stood there, staring at him with fury burning in her
eyes. Her chest rose and fell with each breath as she glared at him.
“I said I don’t want to hear it!” she screamed. “What the hell is wrong with
you?!”
Dante finally met her eyes as her anger boiled over.
“Dante Kingsley, I don’t care what you do with your life,” she snapped,
voice trembling with rage. “You and I? We’re over. What are you even
pretending to do here?”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 22 PAY THE
PRICE
She stormed to the door, yanking it open—only to feel resistance. It
wouldn’t budge. Her brows furrowed, and she twisted the handle again,
harder this time. Still jammed.
“What happened? Can’t bear to part from me?” Dante’s voice drawled
behind her. She turned, and there he was—leaning casually against the edge
of the table, arms crossed, one ankle hooked over the other. A smug smile
tugged at his lips, like he was watching something mildly entertaining.
Her eyes flared with fury. “What did you do to the door?” she demanded,
her voice rising. “Why won’t it open?!”
He gave a careless shrug, his tone deliberately infuriating. “I locked it. In
front of your eyes. What do you want me to do now? Break it open?”
“You—” She cut herself off with a hiss of frustration, whirling away from
him and marching toward her bag. She dug through it quickly, pulling out
her phone and pressing the power button.
Still dead.
She turned, her voice clipped. “Give me your pho—” Her words trailed off
as her eyes dropped to the shattered mess on the floor—his phone, broken
into useless pieces.
Dante tilted his head slightly, watching her with that infuriating smirk. “I
think you did it on purpose,” he said, his voice low, amused. “If you wanted
to be alone with me, you could’ve just told me. We’d be much more
comfortable in a hotel suite. I know a few good ones.”
“You’re disgusting,” she spat, not even bothering to glare anymore. She
turned away from him, walking quickly to the corner of the room, yanking
open a cabinet—nothing inside. She scanned the walls, then banged her fist
against the wooden door with mounting desperation.
No sound from outside. No footsteps. No echo of anyone nearby. Just
silence and him.
She shoved against the door again, harder this time, her body weight behind
it. Still nothing. Trapped.
Behind her, she could feel him watching.
“I swear, Dante, if you don’t open this damn door in the next five seconds
—”
“What?” he cut in lazily. “You’ll scream for help? Go ahead. The whole
floor was cleared for the auction’s private bidders. No one’s here but us.
Scream your heart out.”
She didn’t reply. Her breath came in frustrated huffs as she walked to the
corner of the room, eyes scanning for something—anything—that could
help her escape. She yanked open drawers, checked under the small table,
then stormed back to the door and began banging on it again with both fists.
“Open up! Somebody—open the damn door!” Her voice echoed in the
locked silence, but there was no answer, no movement from outside.
Finally, breathless and exhausted, she slumped slightly, resting her hand
against the doorframe.
And then—
Her eyes widened in horror.
Something small and black skittered across the ground, its antenna
twitching.
“Ah!” she shrieked, leaping away so fast her heels nearly slipped. Without
thinking, she launched herself straight at Dante—arms flying around his
neck, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist like he was the only safe
ground in a burning building.
“Cockroach! There are cockroaches in here!” she cried, her face buried in
his shoulder, trembling.
He caught her with ease, one arm under her thighs, the other locked
securely around her waist. Her heart was thundering against his chest, her
breath ragged.
And then—without a word—his lips met hers.
It was sudden, greedy, and deep.
She jerked back instantly, her eyes wide with shock and fire. “What the hell
are you doing?!” she snapped, fury flaring in her gaze.
But he didn’t flinch. His body remained close, his breath warm against her
skin as his lips brushed the curve of her neck.
“You’re the one who jumped on me,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing
—yet there was a heat behind it.
Her fists pounded weakly against his chest. “Don’t do that,” she hissed.
“Don’t take advantage of—”
But before she could finish, her eyes darted past his shoulder.
“Ahhh! Another cockroach!” Anya’s scream cracked like glass, her voice
trembling as she clung to him with desperate fingers, nails digging into his
skin. Her entire body shook—part fear, part something deeper, more frantic.
“What’s going on?! Why are there so many?!”
The cockroaches skittered relentlessly across the cold tiles, shadows darting
beneath the dim, flickering light. Her heart pounded, and her breath hitched
against his chest, but she refused to let go.
He pressed closer, his warmth engulfing her, the sharp scent of his cologne
mingling with the damp, musty air. His lips brushed the shell of her ear,
voice low, thick with something raw and possessive. “Then hold on to me
tightly if you don’t want me to drop you.”
Her teeth clenched fiercely. “Don’t you dare—”
“Don’t drop your legs,” he murmured, voice dipping deeper.
Without warning, his body shifted, hips thrusting forward with brutal
precision. Anya’s breath caught, a sharp gasp torn from her throat as she
froze, wide-eyed and breathless. “You—”
Before she could finish, his hand was on her dress, fingers gripping the
delicate fabric and yanking it up in one swift, ruthless motion. The cool air
slammed against her heated skin, making her shiver, but it was nothing
compared to the next assault of sensation—his fingers sliding under the thin
lace of her panties, pressing firmly against the slick heat already pooling
between her legs.
Two fingers moved slowly, circling, teasing, sending shivers crawling down
her spine, arching her back against him despite herself.
“Stop it,” she snapped, voice sharp but unsteady, hands pushing against his
chest with weak protest. “I said stop.”
He froze, his arms loosening just enough for her body to slump against his.
Panic flared in her eyes as they flicked down to the floor, her breath
trembling. “Don’t—don’t let me go!”
The cockroaches still crawled, ugly and revolting, and the thought of her
bare feet touching that floor made her cling tighter, nails biting into his
shoulders as if he were the only solid thing left.
A cruel smirk curved his lips, dark and teasing as he dipped his head, lips
brushing the shell of her ear again, his breath hot, dangerous. “Then pay the
price if you want me to hold you.”
Her breath hitched, trembling on the edge of a plea. “What?”
“You heard me,” he whispered, voice low and slow, wrapping around her
like smoke in a dark room. “I don’t do charity, sweetheart.”
Her glare was fierce, lips quivering with a mix of frustration and something
unspoken.
He watched her like a predator, eyes locked on every twitch, every flicker
of hesitation in her gaze. Her breath trembled, chest rising and falling in
uneven waves, and still, he waited—until her lashes fluttered, just once.
That was all the permission he needed.
His fingers moved again, slower this time. More soft. They pressed and
circled with dark intent, dragging against that sensitive spot that made her
jaw clench and her breath stutter into silence. She bit her lip hard, trying to
smother the sound building in her throat, but he saw it. The silent giveaway
—the way her grip tightened on his shoulders, the tremble in her thighs.
He leaned in, eyes burning into hers.
Then he moved.
In a flash, she found herself pinned against the wall. Her wrists were caught
above her head, locked in one of his hands. The cold surface at her back
sent a jolt through her spine, but the heat pressing against her front was
hard. His other hand slid under the waistband of her panties, fingers curving
downward with no patience left between them.
She gasped, body jerking as his fingers plunged into her—deep and slow,
then rough, every movement rough and punishing. Her thighs clamped
around his waist, involuntary, instinctive, trying to pull him closer, ground
herself somehow, but there was no safety here. Only him. Only this.
Her head fell back against the wall with a soft thud. Her breath came in
shallow pants. She hated him—God, she hated him—but her body betrayed
her, welcoming his touch like it had been aching for it.
His mouth brushed along her jaw, then down to her throat, lips hot and
barely touching. His voice was a sinful whisper against her skin. “Say
stop,” he murmured, low and dark. “Say it… and I’ll let go.”
But she couldn’t speak. Not with his fingers curling inside her, filling her,
stroking her in that maddening rhythm that stole every thought she had. Her
skin burned beneath his touch, her hips moved against him on their own,
and still he didn’t stop—his grip tightening around her wrists, holding her
there like she was his to ruin.
He pressed her harder into the wall, claiming more of her space, her air, her
sanity. One hand shifted to her waist, gripping tightly, while the other
tugged her panties aside completely, baring her to the cold air—and to him.
He pushed two fingers into her again, harder this time. Each stroke was a
demand, relentless and punishing, and every thrust made her shudder, her
legs clenching around his waist in surrender and desperation. Her body
burned, her mind screamed, but no words came.
Only the sound of her breath. Only the slick, wet rhythm of his fingers
moving inside her. Only him.
And still—he didn’t let go.
She struggled to steady her breathing, chest heaving as heat coiled tightly
inside her, threatening to break loose. Her fingers fisted his shirt, nails
digging into the fabric—and into him—as if she could anchor herself to
something, anything, before she unraveled completely.
“You’re so close,” he murmured against the side of her neck, lips brushing
hot over her skin. His voice was a low, dangerous growl, heavy with
promise. “Can’t you feel it? Just let go.”
She shook her head, barely. It was weak, trembling, full of denial—but her
body was saying everything her mouth couldn’t. Her thighs trembled. Her
breath hitched. Her hips pushed forward instinctively, chasing the pressure,
chasing him.
Still, she said nothing. Couldn’t. Words were lost—burned out by the slow,
aching fire building inside her. She hated how easily he read her, how
completely her body gave in when he touched her like this. How the need
twisted deep inside her until it drowned out everything else.
With deliberate slowness, he slid her panties down her thighs, dragging the
damp fabric past her thighs. The cool air brushed against her now-exposed
skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat between them.
His grip on her waist tightened, possessive, claiming. With his other hand,
he reached for the zipper of his pants.
The sound was sharp in the thick silence—metal teeth sliding down with
slow finality. Then the soft hiss of fabric, the heavy pause as he freed
himself, the slight tension in his muscles as he adjusted her against the wall.
He aligned himself with her entrance, the head of his rod nudging her slick
folds—and then, with a hard, deep thrust, he drove into her.
She cried out, head snapping back against the wall as her body arched
around him, the sudden fullness stealing the air from her lungs. He didn’t
give her time to adjust. He filled her completely—hot, thick, pulsing—and
it was too much, too perfect, too fast.
Her legs locked tighter around his waist, hips lifting to meet him, grounding
herself in the only thing solid—him. Her hands gripped his shoulders now,
desperate and trembling, nails scraping skin.
He didn’t hold back.
His hips moved with brutal precision, driving into her over and over again,
each thrust slamming her back against the cold wall. The rhythm was fierce,
relentless, dragging sounds from her lips she couldn’t control, couldn’t
hide. A cry. A gasp. She wasn’t sure anymore.
Every movement was a demand. A punishment. A claim.
He growled low in his throat, lips finding hers in a rough, consuming kiss,
swallowing her moans as he pounded into her, faster now. Harder.
Her breath hitched. Ragged, uneven. As if the air itself had turned too thick
to swallow. Every nerve in her body screamed with sensation, her skin
oversensitive to the slightest movement, her mind drowning in the raw,
molten chaos he had dragged her into.
The world shrank. Nothing existed beyond the heat of his body pressed
against hers, the rough cadence of their breaths tangled in the air, and the
fire still flickering in her core, even as her body trembled from release.
His mouth moved along her neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses that left
her skin flushed and marked. He sucked gently just below her jaw, making
her twitch in his hold as if he hadn’t already shattered her.
His grip remained firm—one hand wrapped around her wrists, still pinned
above her head, the other steady on her hip, grounding her as the
aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her limbs.
She was shaking. Every inch of her. Not from fear, but from the raw
aftermath of everything he had just done to her body. Her thighs were weak,
her knees nearly giving out, but he held her there, watching her unravel.
And then he whispered, voice rough and dangerous against her ear, “I’m not
done with you.”
Before she could even catch her breath, before her heart had the chance to
slow down, he adjusted his grip on her hip. Tighter now. And without
warning, he thrust into her again.
Hard.
A strangled cry escaped her lips, her body jerking in his grasp as he drove
deep, filling her in one brutal stroke. Her back arched instinctively, but his
hold was merciless, keeping her pinned to the wall with no room to run, no
way to shield herself from the intensity of him.
“Too much?” he rasped, teeth grazing the shell of her ear. “Then say it.”
But she couldn’t. Her voice was gone—drowned in the moan that tore from
her throat as he pulled back and slammed into her again, setting a rhythm
that was nothing short of punishing.
He kept her wrists locked tight above her head, fingers curled around them
like shackles, while his hips snapped forward with raw power, each thrust
harder than the last. Her body jolted with every movement, the wall cold
against her front, the heat of him burning into her from behind.
“You feel that?” he growled, his breath ragged now, matching hers. “The
way you tighten around me? Like your body’s begging even when you
won’t.”
She whimpered in the helpless need building all over again. She couldn’t
stop shaking, couldn’t stop the flush that crept up her chest and neck. Her
legs gave out, but he didn’t let her fall, he only pressed in deeper, harder,
keeping her pinned between him and the wall.
His pace grew rougher, relentless. Skin slapping skin. Her gasps turning to
broken moans. Her body completely wrecked, taken, trembling.
“Say my name,” he hissed against her neck, dragging his mouth down her
throat, biting at the skin hard enough to make her cry out. “Say it while I
ruin you.”
She tried. She really tried. But the only thing that left her lips was a
shattered moan that barely resembled language.
Her release hit again, violent and overwhelming, stealing the strength from
her limbs and the air from her lungs. Her hands flexed in his grip, and she
cried out his name, breathless and desperate.
That was all it took.
He cursed under his breath and drove into her one last time, burying himself
deep as he came with a sharp groan against her neck, his entire body
trembling with hers.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The only sounds were their gasps,
heavy and uneven, and the faint thud of her heartbeat echoing in her ears.
Then, slowly, he released her wrists. Her arms dropped like dead weight,
too weak to support themselves, and he caught her before she could slide
down the wall. His hands were gentler now, though his touch still burned.
He pressed a kiss to her neck, as if trying to steady the storm he had just
created. His hips still moved, slow, tingling strokes that drove her wild.
She clenched her eyes shut, a helpless moan tearing from her throat as he
drove her higher, faster, rougher—until nothing else existed but him.
Just as the tension snapped in her belly and she shattered once more in his
arms, the knock came again.
A louder one.
And a voice, sharper this time. “Hey! We heard something—do you need
help? Is there someone inside?”
Anya's eyes flew open.
Panic hit like ice.
Anya immediately pushed at his chest, roughly falling out of his arms. She
immediately adjusted her clothes, and rushed toward the door even as her
legs trembled.
Behind her, he took a frustrated breath, and zipped up his pants, his hand
clenching into a fist, and jaw clenching hard.
Anya rushed forward instantly, grabbing the doorknob and shouting, “Yes!
Yes, please open it!”
He stilled for a split second, breath ragged, before he slowly pulled back,
not gently, not carefully—like a man who didn’t regret a damn thing.
She sagged against the wall, barely catching herself. Her hands fumbled
with her clothes as he stood behind her, zipping up like nothing happened,
his eyes still burning into her.
With a click and a slight groan of the hinges, the door finally opened—and
she found herself staring at a slightly confused security guard.
“How did you both get locked inside?” he asked, furrowing his brows as his
eyes darted between the two of them.
“That’s what I should be asking you!” she snapped, voice sharp with
irritation. “Isn’t it your job to check before locking people inside?!”
The guard scratched his head awkwardly and let out a nervous chuckle.
“Maybe the guy on the last shift was in a bit of a hurry to go home… Sorry
about that.”
And with that, he turned and walked off like it was no big deal—leaving
them alone again.
Dante stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his chin
resting lightly on her shoulder. His voice dropped low, sincere. “Anya, let’s
make up, alright? I messed up. I’m sorry. Let’s just talk properly, without
fighting this time.”
But she stiffened in his hold. Her heart was still racing, but not from what
he wanted to believe. Not from longing. Not from love. From fury.
She pushed his hands away with force and turned to face him, her voice
shaking with restraint. “I told you already, didn’t I? I’m not interested. Not
in your apologies, not in this talk, and definitely not in being with you
anymore. But you—” she could barely breathe through the anger and
frustration burning in her chest, “you just don’t stop. You push and push,
like my decisions mean nothing.”
Dante’s jaw tensed. That softness in his eyes, the vulnerability, vanished in
an instant. His gaze turned cold, sharp. “Anya, don’t behave like this,” he
said through clenched teeth. “Is this because of the marriage thing? Fine.
Let’s go right now. You and I—let’s get married today. Right now. Come
with me.”
His hand reached for hers again, almost desperate.
But she stepped back firmly, jerking her arm away as though his touch
burned. “You think this is about a proposal? About timing? You think just
because you’re ready now, I should forget everything you did?"
He stiffened. “Anya—”
“I will not marry you,” she said again, slower this time, each word a dagger.
And without another glance, she turned on her heel and stormed out, her
heels clicking hard against the floor as if every step was slamming the door
on him.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 23 I. HATE.
YOU.
“Anya, there’s a woman outside. She’s screaming, asking to see you!” a
panicked employee at the Carters’ office burst into her office, eyes wide
with alarm.
Anya frowned, immediately rising from her desk. Without a word, she
followed the woman down the elevator, and then to the ground floor.
Before she even reached the main entrance hall, a shrill voice sliced through
the air like a blade.
“Get that bitch here! Didn’t you hear me? If you don’t bring Anya out right
now, I’ll blast this entire place down and set it on fire!”
The employees stood frozen in shock as Zara thrashed and yelled, knocking
over a small table in the waiting area like a madwoman. Her hair was
disheveled, eyes bloodshot, voice cracking from screaming at anyone who
looked her way—like she owned the building and everyone in it.
The moment her eyes landed on Anya walking in, she went silent for half a
second, then her rage exploded again.
“There she is! You!” Zara’s voice wavered between a sob and a snarl as she
stormed toward Anya, fury burning in every step. “You ruined my fiancé’s
family! They’ve got nothing now—nothing! They’re begging people just
for a roof over their heads. What the hell did you do?!”
Anya didn’t flinch. She met Zara’s fire with ice.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said flatly.
“Oh really?” Zara’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Don’t play dumb! You had
his company crushed like it was some kind of game. Then you came after
my family too! Do you even know what my mom is going through right
now? She’s miserable and broke!”
Anya’s patience wore thinner with each word. “What’s that got to do with
me? Your own bad choices catching up with you?”
“You think you’re so clean, huh?” Zara snapped, voice rising. “Ever since
the day we met you at the restaurant—when you showed off that stupid
palace like you were royalty—everything went downhill! You’re the reason
this is all happening! My family raised you like their own daughter. We
gave you everything! And this is how you repay us?!”
She stepped closer, eyes wild. “Pay it back. Every damn cent!”
Her voice pierced the hall.
“Twenty million dollars! You hear me? Twenty million! Pay back every
cent we spent on you!”
Everyone around them stared in stunned silence.
Anya blinked, genuinely stunned. “Twenty million? Are you serious right
now?”
Zara’s eyes flared with manic rage. “Yes! You ruined us! Don’t you dare act
innocent—pay up!”
Anya’s jaw tightened. “You want me to support your whole family for life?
Really? Whatever you gave me, you already took back when you threw me
out like garbage. I left that house with nothing but the clothes on my back.
What more do you want from me?”
“I don’t care where you get it from,” Zara snapped, voice climbing again.
“Sell yourself if you have to! My parents picked up some street rat and
raised her like one of their own, and now you act like a queen?! You’re
disgusting!”
“She’ll pay it.”
A calm but cold voice rang out.
Everyone turned. Luca descended the staircase slowly, his suit pristine, his
face carved in steel. His presence instantly shifted the room’s energy.
Zara whirled around, eyebrows raised. “Who the hell are you? Her fucking
boyfriend?”
“What does it matter to you?” Luca said coolly, walking to Anya and gently
pulling her to his side. His arm rested around her protectively, but his eyes
never left Zara.
Zara scoffed, folding her arms. “Whatever. You can both pay me back then.
Twenty million—plus interest!”
Luca’s expression didn’t change. “Fine. You’ll get the money. I will arrange
for an accountant to bring it all right now.”
Zara’s smug smile returned.
“But,” Luca added sharply, “before that, you’ll sign a legal document
stating that Anya has no remaining obligation, no debt, and no relationship
with your family ever again. No contact, no claims, nothing. Forever.”
Zara’s smile faltered. She blinked—and then let out a mocking laugh.
“Wow. You’re really taking this act seriously, huh? Have you ever seen that
much money in your dreams? What are you going to do next, put me in jail
for embezzlement?” she jeered. “You’re just a manager, not the owner. You
have no right to talk to me like that.”
She looked him over, eyes dripping with disdain. “This bitch can’t even
land a janitor. And now she’s clinging to some office manager like she hit
the jackpot. Pathetic.”
Then, her voice turned sharper, accusing. “And how dare you ask me to
commit a crime? Take money from this company’s accountant? You thief!”
Suddenly, Charles entered the building, his eyes catching the scene.
Several staff members froze, whispering nervously. One of the senior
managers rushed forward, pale-faced and sweating.
“Mr. Carter, please stay back. We’re so sorry. There’s been a personal
disturbance. We’re handling it.”
“Mr. Carter?” Zara turned sharply, her eyes widening in shock the moment
she saw him.
In a heartbeat, her entire demeanor changed. Her rage melted into desperate
charm. She practically flew across the floor toward him, hair swinging, lips
curling into a sudden smile.
“Mr. Carter! You're the owner of the company, right? My parents are close
friends with—”
“What’s the problem?” Charles cut her off, his voice ice-cold.
The pleasant facade on Zara’s face twitched, but she quickly recovered,
flipping back into outrage.
“You came just in time!” she cried, jabbing a finger toward Luca like she’d
caught a criminal red-handed. “This employee of yours—he’s scamming
your company account! He’s throwing money at her!” She turned and
pointed accusingly at Anya, her voice climbing. “She’s nothing but a low-
level worker, and he’s paying off his mistress with company funds! They’re
in it together, I’m telling you. Who knows how much they’ve stolen
already!”
Her voice echoed in the tense silence.
With every accusation, Charles’s expression darkened. The muscle in his
jaw ticked, his hands curled into tight fists by his sides. The temperature in
the room dropped.
“Enough!” His voice cracked like a whip through the air.
Zara stumbled back, startled by the sheer force of his tone. Her mouth
opened, but nothing came out.
But Charles wasn’t done.
“We’ll pay you back for every damn penny,” he spat, his voice sharp with
restrained fury. “And we’ll pay you back for every word that came out of
your filthy mouth.”
Zara’s face crumpled in confusion. “Pay back? What are you talking
about?”
Anya stepped forward, quietly placing a calming hand on Charles’s arm.
“Dad,” she said softly, “it’s okay. Let it go. It’s not worth it. They never
spent more than a few thousand. Now they’re trying to extort millions. It’s
just a scam.”
Zara’s head jerked as if someone had slapped her. “Dad?” she echoed in
disbelief. “You’re her dad?”
The entire room froze.
Gasps filled the air. Heads turned. Murmurs swept across the hall like
wildfire. Employees exchanged wide-eyed glances, some already
whispering behind hands.
Anya was Charles Carter’s daughter?
Zara’s lips trembled. Her arrogance cracked.
“Mr. Carter, please…” she stammered, her voice turning sugary sweet
again. “Please don’t be angry. I didn’t mean it like that. I—I was just
joking. You don’t need to pay anything. Really. Don’t take it seriously…”
But Charles had already turned, storming off with Anya beside him, his
hand protectively resting on her back as if shielding her from the world.
Inside his office, the tension hadn’t lifted. As soon as the door closed,
Charles turned sharply toward her, his brows furrowed, concern etched deep
in his features. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice low but tight with worry.
“I’m fine, Dad,” she replied, soft and calm.
He didn’t look convinced. His eyes scanned her face, down to her arms, as
though searching for invisible wounds. “That woman... she didn’t seem like
a good person.”
Anya let out a tired breath and smiled faintly. “It’s not a big deal.”
Charles ran a hand down his face, his jaw tight. “They didn’t treat you well,
did they?” His voice hardened. “Did they ever hurt you?”
“No, Dad,” she said gently, walking over to him and lightly guiding him
toward his chair. “Everything’s fine, Dad. Stop worrying.”
He sat down stiffly, the worry still clouding his eyes as he looked up at her.
But he didn’t press further. Her presence alone was enough to calm the
storm inside him—at least for now.
Outside the office walls, however, chaos bloomed.
An hour later, the news had already consumed every media outlet.
Headlines blared on screens across the city:
‘Charles Carter’s Long-Lost Daughter Returns!’
‘Carter Diamonds Heiress, Recently Revealed, Found Working Incognito as
Employee’
‘Carter Diamonds’ New Face: Friend or Foe to Luca Stanson?’
Paparazzi flooded news sites with photos of Anya, speculation swirling
around her sudden reappearance like wildfire.
As Anya stepped out of the building, the soft glow of early evening casting
a golden hue across the concrete steps, she spotted someone waiting.
Dante was leaning against his sleek black car, sleeves rolled up, a cigarette
dangling loosely between his fingers. The moment he saw her, he flicked it
to the ground, crushed it with a sharp twist of his shoe, and strode toward
her with long, quick steps.
His hands found her arms before she could even speak. “I heard your old
family created a scene at the office today,” he said, voice low and urgent.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Anya mumbled, her gaze darting away.
He tilted his head, trying to catch her eyes. “Did your dad protect you? Who
else was there? Who helped you?”
“Yeah. My dad and Lu—” her words froze as their eyes met. “You… you
already know?”
Dante’s expression didn’t shift. Not even a flicker of surprise. “About you
being Charles’s daughter?” he said casually. “It’s all over the news.”
“You don’t look shocked at all,” she whispered.
Dante slipped his hands into his pockets, clenching his fists. He wanted
nothing more than to pull her into his arms and take her away, far from
everything and everyone. The urge was suffocating—but he swallowed it
down and nodded absently.
“I had a feeling,” he admitted quietly. “You never told me where you
stayed… you always acted strange around Mr. Carter and Luca. And that
gift Luca gave you—something that expensive? It didn’t make sense unless
you were someone important.”
“Anya?”
Luca appeared beside her smoothly, his gaze flicking once toward Dante,
then settling back on Anya. He didn’t spare Dante another glance.
“Are you ready to leave?”
“Yeah,” Anya said, clearing her throat and forcing herself to smile.
“Great. I’ve made dinner reservations.”
Dante’s eyes sharpened, locking onto Anya. But she didn’t meet his gaze.
‘He already left me so many times. I won’t give him another chance to do it
again,’ Anya told herself, swallowing the ache in her chest. She slipped her
arm into Luca’s.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
Luca’s face softened, a rare warmth in his eyes as he walked beside her.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked quietly.
Behind them, Dante stood frozen, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it
might crack. The calm he’d arrived with had completely vanished, replaced
by a furious storm of jealousy, hurt, and frustration, and the searing pain of
watching her walk away, arm linked with another man.
***
Luca gently guided Anya to her seat inside the grand hotel’s private dining
room. She hadn’t expected them to come somewhere so lavish for dinner—
crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, velvet curtains framed towering
windows, and golden accents gleamed under soft, ambient lighting.
But then Luca smiled at her, and she didn’t want to think too much into it.
Quietly, she settled beside him.
The place was luxurious. A delicate balance of peaceful intimacy and
extravagant luxury. Soft piano music drifted in the background, mingling
with the low hum of distant city life beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
To the left, the breathtaking skyline stretched endlessly—a sparkling
painting of lights that seemed to hush the world’s noise.
Luca picked up the menu, his finger tracing a few of the chef’s specials as
he quietly suggested dishes. Anya nodded, returning his smile and telling
him which ones she preferred for herself.
But a few tables away, a pair of burning eyes never left them. Dante sat
with arms folded tightly across his chest, his jaw clenched like he was
barely holding something back.
Jennifer, who had been standing nearby, noticed the tension and cautiously
approached the table. Leaning in slightly, she lowered her voice. “Sir,” she
said politely, “Would you like to order anything? I can bring something for
you.”
Dante’s fiery glare snapped to Jennifer, freezing her in place. “Do I look
hungry?” he snapped through gritted teeth, voice low and sharp enough to
cut glass.
“S-Sorry, sir,” Jennifer stammered, swallowing hard before scurrying back
to the shadowed corner where she’d been standing moments before, trying
not to draw any more attention.
Back at Anya’s table, Luca lifted a delicate bite of food with his spoon, the
aroma enticing. He placed it carefully on Anya’s plate. “Try this. It’s very
tasty. If you like it, I’ll order it for you too.”
Anya’s eyes softened, and a genuine smile lifted her lips. “Thanks, Luca.”
She glanced at him warmly, grateful for the quiet care in his gesture.
Suddenly, Luca’s expression shifted—his brows knitting slightly in
concern. He reached for a tissue and gently brushed the corner of her
mouth. “There was something on your lips.”
Anya blinked, cheeks coloring as she subconsciously grabbed another tissue
and wiped again, a little embarrassed.
“All done,” Luca grinned and nodded before lifting a piece of crab to her
lips. “Here. Try this too.”
Caught off guard, Anya blinked, then instinctively parted her lips. Luca fed
her the bite with careful tenderness.
Meanwhile, across the room, Dante’s glare darkened and intensified until
the fork in his hand bent under the pressure. His eyes never left them, and
Anya suddenly felt the intensity of his burning stare. Her head turned
slightly in confusion, and that’s when she caught a brief glimpse of him.
‘Did he just follow me here?’ she thought, her brows drawing together in
confusion. But then a sly smile curved her lips. ‘If he wants me to spite
him… who am I to waste the opportunity?’
She immediately leaned closer to Luca, closing every inch of space between
them, and lifted her spoon. “Here,” she said sweetly, offering him her
risotto, “Since you let me try yours, you should try mine too.”
Luca’s eyes widened slightly in surprise but quickly melted. He opened his
mouth, took a bite, and let out a low hum. “Mmm… This is actually very
good. I’ll order it for myself next time.”
“Sure,” Anya replied coyly, then reached out with a soft touch to wipe the
corner of Luca’s lips with her thumb.
That small, intimate gesture was the final straw.
Dante exploded from his seat, standing so fast the chair scraped loudly
against the floor.
His eyes blazed with raw fury as he stormed toward their table, every step
radiating anger and desperation.
Luca, who had been quietly watching Anya’s unusual behavior with a hint
of confusion, now understood the reason.
Dante stopped beside their table, the air around him practically crackling.
His voice came out low, tight, every syllable soaked in venom. “Aren’t you
getting a bit too close to your friend?”
Her words didn’t just sting—they sliced.
Then she turned to Luca. “Luca, please take me home. I can’t eat like this.”
Dante stood there, trembling, rage crawling under his skin like fire ants. His
chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, but Anya didn’t even glance at him
again. She rose with elegance, composed as ever, and walked past him
without pause.
Luca followed, throwing a smug, sideways smile that only fueled Dante’s
fire.
Dante remained still, fists clenched, eyes dark with fury. The restaurant’s
warm lighting and soft music suddenly felt suffocating. A second later, the
word tore from his throat like a curse he couldn’t hold back—
“Motherfucker!”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the
restaurant, leaving Jennifer staring after him in stunned silence.
The moment Dante stepped into the cold night air, it hit him like a slap. But
it did nothing to calm him. If anything, the chill only sharpened the burn
inside him.
He yanked the car door open, slammed it shut, and gripped the wheel with
shaking hands. His knuckles turned white. His chest heaved with rage,
breaths shallow and uneven. He drove straight to Anya’s new apartment—
the address Jennifer had quietly handed over days ago.
He didn’t even remember the drive. Just red lights he wanted to smash
through, horns that blared when he pushed too hard, too fast. His mind was
a mess of flashing images—Anya feeding Luca, smiling at him, touching
his lips. That smug bastard’s face. The way she leaned in so close, like
Dante had never existed.
When he finally pulled up in front of her building, he didn’t bother waiting.
He climbed out and headed straight up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
The hallway outside her apartment was quiet, the silence very loud. He
slammed his finger against the doorbell.
It took a minute, but eventually, the door creaked open.
Anya stood there in her silk, long nightdress, barefoot, hair slightly messy.
She blinked, caught off guard. “What the hell?” she muttered.
Dante didn’t say a word. He brushed past her and walked straight in, eyes
scanning the space like he expected Luca to appear from behind a wall.
But the apartment was empty.
Anya followed him in, voice rising with frustration. “What the hell?! You
can’t just barge in here!”
He turned to face her, his expression hard. “Where is Luca?”
Her face froze for a second before her expression tightened. “That has
nothing to do with you. Get out, Mr. Kings—”
“Stop,” he said, voice low and clipped. He ran a hand through his hair,
pacing slightly. “Stop calling me that. I’m Dante to you! Call me ‘Mr.’ one
more damn time, and I swear I’ll show you what consequences really
mean.”
Anya stiffened. Her teeth clenched at his words. “I told you to get out of my
place. Why won’t you listen to me?”
“What’s going on between you and him?” he shot back. “You’ve
gotten bold, Anya. You don’t even hesitate before putting your hands
on him in front of me?”
“I can touch whoever I want!” she snapped. “I’ve told you a hundred times.
What I do now has nothing to do with you, Mr. King—”
The very next second, he marched over and grabbed her jaw, his other hand
gripping her shoulder as he pushed her back. Her body hit the wall with a
soft thud, and he pinned her there, his face inches from hers, breath ragged
with fury.
“You keep rejecting me,” he growled, voice low and tight. “Every damn
time I’m trying to fix us, you push me away. Is it because of Luca?”
His voice was filled with frustration, but there was pain too—so much that
he couldn’t control it. He was trying to hold himself back, but it was getting
harder to explain the depth of the agony he was drowning in.
She stilled, her brows drawing together as she caught a whiff of alcohol on
his breath. “Did you drink?”
“Don’t worry about that,” he gritted out in a deathly calm voice. “Tell me—
do you love me?”
“What love?” she shot back without hesitation, making him stiffen. His
hold on her jaw slipped to her neck.
“Is it the love that left me at the courthouse because you were suspicious of
me over a photo?” she went on, her voice rising. “Or the love that called me
a whore?”
“I didn’t call you a whore!” he barked, eyes burning. “Don’t say that about
yourself!”
“You said I have a harem,” she hissed, shoving his chest with both hands.
“Isn’t that the same thing, Mr. Kingsley?”
His grip faltered. She grabbed his wrist and tore his hand off her neck,
forcefully pushing him away as she stepped back, breath unsteady.
“You walked out before we could get married,” she snapped, eyes glistening
but fierce. “You left me standing there like I meant nothing. Not a word, not
a reason. The very next day, you replaced me with another woman in the
office like I was just another file to discard.”
She took another step back, her voice shaking now.
“And then you had the audacity to drag me back into a restaurant, only to
walk out on me again. If that’s the kind of love I’ll get from you for the rest
of my life, then I don’t want it!” Her last words came out as a roar.
She looked him dead in the eyes, breathing heavily.
“I hate you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I fucking hate you for making
me feel that way.”
Dant’s body became rigid, every muscle locking in place as dread surged
through him.
Anya’s eyes were wild with a suppressed rage she had buried deep inside.
She hadn’t wanted this confrontation. She had walked away quietly, without
even a word. But he hadn’t let her. He had chased her, cornered her, pulled
her into this moment and forced her to finally break.
“Say it again,” he muttered, his voice chilling enough to freeze anyone else
into silence.
Anya didn’t flinch. She gritted out in a harsh breath, “I. HATE. YOU.”
In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance, grabbing her face with both
hands and crashing his lips onto hers in a punishing kiss.
It was violent, not with anger—but with all the emotions he couldn’t name.
Desperate. Messy. Breathless. His lips moved against hers like a man
drowning, trying to take air from her lungs just to stay alive.
She shoved at his chest, pushed at his shoulders, but he refused to let go.
Not until the kiss turned rougher, more reckless, more unhinged—until her
hands balled into fists against him, and her lungs burned.
Only then did he finally pull back.
And the next second—
Smack.
Her palm struck across his face, sharp and brutal. The sound cracked
through the silence of the apartment like lightning.

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 CHAPTER 24 LET’S TRY
AGAIN
The imprint of her palm burned on his cheek.
But he didn’t react with rage.
Instead, his hands reached for her again, trembling as they landed on her
shoulders. His voice came out hoarse, broken, the raw edge of his pain
seeping through every word.
“Can’t you see how much I love you?” he roared. “How much I fucking
want you in my life? But you keep pushing me away. You tell your secrets
to everyone but me. Everyone else gets the truth. I get silence. Why am I
always the one left out—while you don’t even explain a damn thing to
me?!”
She was appalled.
“Do you even hear yourself?” she shot back, her voice tight with disbelief.
“Do you even realize how ridiculous you sound right now?”
She took a shaky breath, chest rising and falling fast.
“Didn’t I try explaining to you over and over again? You were the one who
was indifferent to me! You walked away! Then you dragged me back just to
leave me again. And now that you’ve suddenly decided I’m good enough,
you want me back and expect me to give in?”
Her voice cracked, just a little, but she didn’t let it show.
“Why is it always me who has to bleed first? Why do I have to fall apart
before you realize you can’t live without me? I never left you, Dante. Not
once. But you... you crushed me—over and over—and now you want me to
talk to you because you want to fix us?”
Dante took several deep breaths, his hands shaking. He reached up to her
and stepped closer.
“Anya...” he whispered, voice barely holding together. He reached for her
face again, slower this time, as if afraid she might disappear if he touched
her too hard.
“It’s my fault. Alright, Anya?” he whispered, cupping her face gently. His
voice was desperate, rough. “All my fault. I wasn’t good. I walked away
when I should’ve stayed.”
He drew in a breath, steadying the crack in his voice, eyes locked on hers.
“From now on, I’ll never walk out on you, no matter what happens. We’ll
talk. We’ll fix things. I’ll never shut you out again. It was my fault. I got so
jealous, and lost my mind.”
His hands held her a little tighter, as if afraid she’d slip away.
“You love me too, right? You still feel it? Then let’s try again. Just once
more. Let me in, Anya.” He leaned in. “I swear I’ll never walk away again.
I’ll marry you—tonight, now, whatever it takes. Just… give me that one last
chance. Please. Accept me one last time.”
She pushed him away, crying out coldly, “I don’t want to marry you. Not
anymore. I won’t repeat the same mistake.”
His body went rigid.
He immediately reached out, desperate to hold her again, but she pulled
away from his grasp without a second thought. His fingers lingered in the
air where she’d been, trembling with frustration and longing.
His voice thundered, rough and urgent, as he tried to make her understand.
“I’m not the same. Our marriage wasn’t a mistake.” He swallowed hard,
fighting the knot in his throat. “I was jealous because I can’t stand the
thought of you with anyone else. But I’ll fix it. I swear I will.”
His voice dropped lower, searching her eyes like looking for a flicker of
hope. His voice softened, filled with raw vulnerability.
“I promise I’ll fix myself. I’ll make it up to you for all the pain I caused. I
won’t do this again.”
Her chest heaved, breath ragged and uneven. She stepped back, voice sharp
and fierce.
“You’ve done this twice already, Dante. I’m done giving chances.” Her
hands trembled as she shoved him hard in the chest, the force carrying all
her anger and exhaustion.
“I won’t trust you again. Do you hear me?” Her voice cracked. “I will not
marry you!”
His shoulders slumped, the fight draining from him as his face fell. The
light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a hollow ache.
“Is that really how you feel?” His voice was barely more than a whisper,
fragile and broken. “Is this our end?”
She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. Her voice was a soft, painful
whisper. “Yes.”
A searing pain like fire tore through Dante’s veins. The regret crashed down
on him at once in that moment.
Finally, he gave in—dejected and crushed—and without another word, he
turned and walked out of her apartment.
***
The next morning, the city was waking slowly beneath a pale, grey sky.
Dante stood again at the entrance of the same house. The bouquet in his
hands was fresh, the lilies blooming. His body was stiff, tense.
His gaze drifted to the door, and after a moment, his fingers pressed the
doorbell. The chime rang out, hollow and sharp in the stillness of the
morning.
Since last night, her words had replayed endlessly in his mind. He hadn’t
even gone home—instead, he drove through empty streets, sleepless and
haunted, his head pounding with every thought.
It wasn’t until the first light of dawn began to wash over the city that he
finally returned home to shower, collect himself, and then stop at a flower
shop on the way to her home again.
The apartment door opened. Dante lifted the flowers to greet Anya, but to
his shock, a middle-aged couple stood before him, calm but wary, eyes
flickering with surprise.
Confused, Dante stepped back, scanning the house number again. It was
right.
His voice, tight with shock and disbelief, broke the silence. “Where’s the
girl who was living here?”
The couple exchanged a glance. The man finally answered, “She emptied
the place last night. We got a quick deal and moved in.”
Dante’s heart dropped like a crushing weight on his chest. The cold
morning air suddenly feeling even sharper against his skin.
‘I hate you.’ Anya’s voice rang again in his ears.
His legs trembled beneath him, and he staggered, reaching out to clutch the
wall for support as a wave of dizziness threatened to pull him under.
“Hey, man, are you alright?” A concerned voice broke through his haze.
The older man stepped forward, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
Dante barely managed a shallow breath, nodding weakly, and pushing the
hand away as if it burned. “I’m fine. Thanks.” His voice was hoarse, barely
audible.
He swiftly turned, and walked away, every step heavy as if his heart was
sinking deeper with each one.
The bouquet slipped silently from his grasp. Petals scattered across the cold
pavement like fallen dreams, swirling in the morning breeze until nothing
was left but an empty wrapper drifting softly to the ground as he reached
his car.
His fingers curled tightly around the car’s window, trembling with a restless
ache. His eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold back the storm inside.
‘Does she really want nothing to do with me anymore?’
***
Inside a dimly lit room, the loud hum of music barely covered the pounding
in Luca’s chest. He watched Anya, seated across from him, her delicate
frame slumped as she took another sip from a nearly empty vodka glass—
her fifth one tonight.
“You really don’t plan on forgiving Dante?” Luca asked.
“Never.” Anya’s lips pressed tightly together, her voice barely a murmur. “I
don’t want to go through that pain again.” She glanced away, eyes glassy
and distant. “I told him—if he walked out, that was the end. He made his
choice.”
Luca nodded, sipping his scotch. The loud music drowned out his racing
heartbeat as he looked at her. He loved her.
He’d loved her for years. When Anya was born, he was there. Even though
back then he was too young to understand, he always held a special place
for Anya in his heart.
And now, she sat right in front of him—broken, but not for him.
A sharp ache twisted inside him. Part of him wanted to burn it all down, to
somehow make her to give up on Dante and have her for himself.
The other part just wanted to see her happy—even if that meant without
him.
“Anya,” gently, he set down his glass and reached out, resting a tentative
hand on the back of her head. Her eyes fluttered open, soft, a little glazed
from the vodka.
“It’s clear Dante likes you,” he muttered, catching her attention. “He
doesn’t treat anyone the way he treats you. You’re the only one he’s ever
loved. And yeah, he hasn’t had other relationships, so his jealousy... it’s
messy. He probably just doesn’t know how to handle it.”
She frowned, her soft expression quickly hardening into stubbornness as
she snapped, “I don’t care! What’s gone is gone. I’m the kind of person who
never goes back on her word. I won’t have anything to do with Dante
Kingsley ever again!”
Luca exhaled slowly, steadying his breath. “Alright then. Dante will never
come back into your life.”
“What? Why?” she cried, grabbing another glass of vodka and drinking it
down before he could stop her.
“Hey. Enough. You’ve had enough,” he warned gently.
“I want him back,” she whispered, a little crack in her voice. “Why did you
say no Dante ever again?”
He dropped his hand from her head, turning fully to face her. “You said it,
Anya.”
“I didn’t.” Her voice was barely audible, tears pricking the corners of her
eyes.
Panic surged through Luca. “Alright, you didn’t. I was saying nonsense.
Don’t cry!”
Her lips trembled. “I want him.”
She sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “He’s so nice. He
lets me have whatever I want. He even proposed to me so sweetly..."
Her hand reached for another glass out, but Luca had already pushed the
liquor glasses to the far end of the table, just out of her reach. That didn’t
stop her—she swiped again with unsteady hands, this time snatching his
half-full scotch and swallowing it in one go before he could stop her.
His hand met only empty air as she downed the liquor and slammed the
glass down on the table.
Tears fell from her eyes.
“Ahhh—empty! This also left me!” she cried, voice rising in wounded
disbelief. “Why is everything leaving me? I’m not even that bad!”
She turned to Luca, gripping his shoulders, leaning in as she nodded to
herself.
"He betrayed me so badly. He left. But I love him so much. How am I
supposed to keep watching him walk away and cry every time? I can’t do
that again and again."
Luca let out a long, slow breath, rubbing his temples. “You broke up with
him, Anya.”
Her expression twisted in confusion. “What?! When?!” Her hands fell
limply into her lap, brows furrowed. “He left me… again? Why?”
The tears spilled again.
His jaw clenched.
He couldn’t watch this anymore.
With a resigned sigh, he reached for his phone. He unlocked the screen and
tapped a contact he’d never called before.
The call was picked up a few rings later.
“If you want Anya back,” Luca said coldly, staring ahead as her head
drooped against his shoulder, “this is your last chance. Want it?”
There was a beat of silence.
"Send the address. I’ll be there in five." Dante’s voice growled, already
striding out. Luca could almost hear his footsteps over the line before it cut.
***
Dante stormed into the hotel suite with Anya in his arms, the door
slamming behind him as his boots struck the floor in heavy, urgent strides.
He held her close—closer than necessary—pressing her sleeping form
tightly to his chest like she might vanish if he let go.
She had already passed out at the bar by the time he had arrived. The sight
of Luca standing near her had only made him more eager to take her away
—despite the very real urge to snap Luca in two, Dante hadn’t spared him
more than a searing glare. The rage that had simmered beneath his skin had
been barely leashed. He had been relieved to take her off Luca’s hands—
grateful, even—but that didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted to rip him apart.
He couldn’t understand how Anya found that man so harmless. That
grinning snake always made Dante’s skin crawl.
The way Luca looked at her… it made his blood run hot. If he ever caught
him alone again—
He forced the thought down.
She was all that mattered now.
She was already asleep. Completely out cold, her body limp in his arms.
But as he reached the bed and tried to lower her down, her arm curled
around his neck in a surprisingly strong grip, holding him there.
“Anya,” he murmured near her ear, soft and coaxing. “My love, let go. You
can sleep in the bed now.”
But she only buried her face deeper into the crook of his neck, her warm
breath brushing against his skin.
“Mhmm… Dante…”
His entire world stilled.
The sound of his name from her lips—soft, slurred, trusting—sent a pulse
of raw emotion surging through his chest. His heart stumbled, then raced. It
didn’t matter that her eyes were closed. She knew it was him. She
recognized him even in her sleep.
"Anya..." he whispered, cupping her face and lifting it gently. He kissed her
ear. "Do you want to change clothes?"
No answer. Just soft, uneven breaths.
Gently, he cradled her in his lap. He removed her earrings one by one, then
lifted her dress, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. He unhooked her
bra to make her more comfortable, then laid her down carefully on the bed,
drawing the blanket up to cover her bare skin.
Then he undressed in silence. He kicked off his shoes and socks, then
pulled off his shirt, stripping down to his boxers before slipping under the
covers beside her.
As soon as he settled in, Anya turned in her sleep, her body instinctively
seeking his. Without waking, she climbed over him, curling herself across
his chest.
His body trembled. He turned at once, engulfing her in his arms, pulling her
close—skin against skin, her warm breath on his chest.
His fingers brushed gently through her hair as she slept, drinking in the
feeling of having her close after so long. His face nestled into her hair as his
breathing slowed, and for the first time in weeks, he could breathe again.
When her eyes fluttered open in the morning, she blinked in confusion, her
vision adjusting to the bare chest in front of her.
Her entire body was sprawled on something both soft and hard at the same
time. Warm and muscular.
She lifted her head slightly, her hair falling to one side of her face, messy
and loose. Sleepy eyes slowly trailed down—and froze.
Dante was laying beneath her, fast asleep.
‘Damn it, Luca?!’ The thought hit her faster than any other. ‘Did he
seriously call Dante to pick me up?’
She shifted immediately, trying to slip out from under him and make a dash
out of the room. But she had only reached the edge of the bed when a strong
arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her back. She was snatched like
a doll and pinned down on the bed in a heartbeat.
Dante hovered over her, voice husky and accusing, "You’re making a run
right after sleeping with a man?"
Her gaze dropped to his bare chest. Then slowly, her eyes trailed down to
her own body.
Completely naked.
Her lips pressed into a thin, horrified line.
"Scumbag! How dare you take advantage of me?!"
His hand gripped her face, and he leaned in, his lips almost brushing hers.
"I didn’t do anything last night," he said calmly. "It was you who was
begging me to sleep with you."
“Liar,” she hissed, glaring.
He leaned in to kiss her.
She turned her head sharply, refusing to look at him, but his hand cupped
her cheek again, guiding her face back to his.
“Missed me?”
“Get off me.”
But Dante didn’t move. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against
her skin, his lips brushing her neck in slow, deliberate passes. His voice
dropped, low and teasing. “You’re not going to confess?” he murmured.
“Not even a little bit?”
Anya tensed, her hands pushing at his shoulders, but her strength had long
since left her. “Dante, I told you already—”
Her protest barely left her lips before his mouth crashed into hers—fierce,
hungry, and laced with desperation. His lips were rough, almost punishing,
as though trying to claim back every second she had pulled away.
She twisted her face away with a sharp breath, trying to break free from the
overwhelming onslaught. But he followed the curve of her jaw, pressing
hot, open-mouthed kisses along her skin. His stubble scraped her as he
trailed downward, biting and sucking at the delicate line of her throat.
Her skin burned under the assault—each kiss a searing mark, each lick a
brand of possession.
Her hands flew up to push him away, but he caught them midair—his grip
iron-strong. Before she could twist out of his grasp, he forced her wrists
above her head. Her back arched instinctively, shocked by the sudden shift.
In one swift motion, he grabbed the knit throw draped at the edge of the bed
and looped it around her wrists, knotting it securely to the headboard. The
fabric was soft, but the intent was anything but.

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 CHAPTER 25
DESPERATE
She gasped, eyes wide, her breath hitching in her throat. A wave of disbelief
washed over her, chased by fury and a sharp pulse of fear. Her heart
thundered against her ribs as she tested the binding, the soft fibers refusing
to give.
“Dante, stop. You and I—we’re not together anymore,” she hissed, her
voice low and ragged.
But he didn’t stop.
His lips moved along the slope of her collarbone, lingering, scraping lightly
with his teeth before soothing the sting with the wet heat of his tongue.
Then he moved lower.
His breath fanned against her chest just seconds before his mouth latched
onto her breast. He sucked her nipple into his mouth with force, groaning
low in his throat as if the taste of her was a relief he’d been denied too long.
The sound vibrated against her skin, sending sharp pulses straight to her
core.
She gasped, her bound wrists straining against the throw, her body arching
despite itself.
His hand slid to her waist, fingers spread wide, anchoring her in place as
she twisted, her hips shifting involuntarily beneath him. His grip only
tightened, possessive and firm, his body pressing her deeper into the
mattress as if trying to mold her into it. Into him.
Her breath hitched violently in her throat, chest rising and falling in uneven
waves as heat surged through her. Her head fell back against the pillows,
strands of hair clinging to damp skin. Her mouth opened in a silent cry, her
body trembling under his touch—overwhelmed, consumed.
His mouth continued downward, trailing a path between her breasts, over
the sensitive lines of her ribs, then lower, his tongue carving a wicked path
over her soft skin.
“Ahh…” She writhed beneath him, her voice caught somewhere between a
moan and a gasp. He moved with the hunger of a man possessed, dragging
his mouth along her trembling form like he was memorizing her with his
tongue.
She tried to twist away—reflexive, breathless—but he only moved faster,
deeper, holding her rightly.
Then, suddenly he slowed.
The frenzied urgency in his movements vanished. His breathing was heavy,
uneven, but his touch softened.
He lifted his head, his face hovering close to hers, their noses nearly
brushing. The heat of his breath ghosted over her lips. His hand rose,
fingertips trembling slightly as they cradled her cheek. His thumb grazed
her skin in the lightest stroke.
“I was wrong,” he whispered, his voice ragged, barely more than air.
“Please… forgive me.”
His eyes locked onto hers, no longer wild, no longer demanding. They were
full of something else now. Desperate sincerity. Regret. A love so worn and
broken, it looked fragile in his gaze.
But Anya turned her head.
“Don’t,” she said, her voice dry and distant, like a wall thrown up between
them.
Dante’s fingers trembled where they held her. His jaw clenched, the
muscles tightening as he swallowed hard—like choking on something
bitter. His breath faltered as a deep ache clawed at his chest, too sharp to
ignore.
Then, without a word, he leaned forward.
Slowly.
His movements stripped of fire, heavy with something else—defeat, maybe.
Regret. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck, hiding there like a
man trying to escape the wreckage he’d caused. His lips brushed her skin,
trembling against her pulse. Just a whisper of warmth. Just enough to make
her chest catch.
Then he moved, dragging his mouth along her throat in a shaky, broken
line. It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t dominance. It was grief disguised as touch. A
man trying to hold on to something slipping through his fingers.
Anya’s breath faltered.
She wanted to shove him away, scream at him, demand why he always
came back just when she was learning to breathe without him. But her body
betrayed her—caught in that unbearable space between resistance and
memory. Between the ache of what he’d done and the ghost of what they
used to be.
Her wrists strained against the makeshift tie above her head, her muscles
tense.
He pulled back slowly, as if letting go of something sacred. His gaze traced
every detail of her face—the curve of her lashes, the faint tremble in her
lips, the distance still burning in her eyes. Then, gently, he lowered his head
and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
When his mouth finally found hers again, there was no hunger.
Just quiet desperation.
His lips moved against hers slowly, tenderly, memorizing her warmth in
case she slipped away again.
His hand cupped her face with care, the pad of his thumb brushing her
cheek in trembling strokes. The other drifted down, pausing at her
collarbone, then hesitating before tracing the soft curve of her chest.
Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling in the stillness between them.
His voice cracked, raw and barely held together. “I didn’t realize how much
I hurt you.”
His eyes burned into hers—dark, wild, and full of torment. His fingers
rubbed over her chest with growing urgency, circling her nipples until they
peaked under his touch. He was shaking.
“I shouldn’t have done that to you,” he rasped, his face hovering inches
from hers, voice hoarse, heavy with regret. “I won’t do it again. I swear—I
won’t leave you. I won’t make you sad ever again.” His breath hitched as
his lips nearly touched hers. “Won’t you give me just one chance? Just
one.”
But she said nothing. Her silence was a knife, and it made him lose the last
thread of control.
“Say something,” he breathed, but when she turned her face away—cold,
silent—something in him snapped.
His mouth crashed against her neck, kissing her roughly, teeth grazing her
skin as he dragged his tongue along the edge of her throat. His hands were
everywhere, gripping her thighs, her waist, her hips, pulling her to him like
she was the only thing keeping him alive.
She gasped as he bit down lightly near her collarbone, the sharp sting
followed by his tongue soothing over the mark. “You can hate me,” he
growled against her skin. “But you’re still mine.”
She pushed at him, her voice strained. “Let me go—”
But he was already between her thighs, dragging her legs apart with a growl
that sounded half-mad. He didn’t pause. Didn’t ask again.
His mouth was on her, hot and restless, tongue flicking and pressing in
desperate strokes. She cried out, hips jerking, but his hands gripped her
thighs, keeping her open, locked in place.
He licked her like a man starving, like he needed her taste to breathe.
Rough, fast, raw.
“Again,” he growled against her, his voice wrecked. “I want to feel you fall
apart for me. Don’t hold back.”
“Oh god…” She tried to twist away, but her body betrayed her, arching into
him, shuddering as heat exploded in her core, helpless to the storm he was
dragging her through. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her thighs
trembling as he pushed her over the edge.
He groaned against her, the sound low and guttural, vibrating through her as
his mouth stayed locked on her clit. His tongue moved with ruthless
precision—flicking, circling, dragging over her sensitive flesh again and
again until her legs clenched around his head.
“Hahhh…” she could barely breathe.
“More,” he rasped between licks, his voice wrecked with need. “You’re not
done. Not until I say you are.”
“Ahhh…” She cried out, hips jerking, body twitching beneath the relentless
rhythm of his mouth. Every flick of his tongue sent lightning shooting
through her veins. She clawed at the sheets, desperate for something to hold
onto, anything to ground her as he dragged her back into the fire.
And still, he didn’t let up.
He shifted, angling his mouth deeper, licking her in long, fast strokes, then
flicking sharply until her back arched off the bed, another orgasm crashing
through her like a wave.
“A.. hhhh… hahh!” She sobbed, barely able to breathe, her body shaking
uncontrollably.
But he only moaned against her, drunk on her taste, on her reactions, on the
way she shattered for him. He licked her through the aftershocks, refusing
to stop until she was whimpering, trembling from the overload.
Then he eased up just slightly, tongue slower now, but just enough to tease
her, to keep her hovering on the edge, never letting her fall completely. His
fingers dug into her thighs to hold her still, lips sealing around her clit as he
sucked again. Hard, deep, possessive.
“Again,” he whispered against her heat.
His hands gripped her thighs and pulled them wider apart, anchoring her in
place as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the tender skin on the inside.
Kissing, licking, then dragging his teeth across her skin in short, hungry
bites that made her jolt and gasp. He bit again, just enough to sting, just
enough to make her body tense with need before he soothed the spot with
his tongue.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured darkly, voice thick with hunger. “You like
this.”
She tried to respond, but all that came out was a strangled sound—half plea,
half warning.
His mouth returned to her center, tongue flicking fast and shallow, then
slow and deep, building her up all over again only to pull back just as her
body begged to let go. He teased her mercilessly, holding her right at the
edge, then dragging her away from it—again and again, until tears welled in
her eyes from the frustration and need.
“Not yet,” he growled. “You’ll cum when I say.”
She sobbed, writhing beneath him, her thighs trembling so hard they could
barely stay open. Every flick of his tongue sent a fresh jolt through her,
lighting up her nerves, building her higher and higher until she was nothing
but sensation and fire.
And finally—when her body was flushed, slick, and shaking—he gave her
no more mercy.
He sucked her clit hard, tongue flicking fast, ruthless now, his mouth
locking onto her like he was trying to brand her with pleasure. Her entire
body seized, her back arching, a scream torn from her throat as the orgasm
ripped through her like a wave of fire, blinding and uncontrollable.
He didn’t stop until she collapsed into the pillows, boneless and wrecked,
her breath ragged, her skin damp with sweat.
His breath was ragged as he lowered his head between her thighs again, his
lips latching onto her clit with urgency. He didn’t tease this time—he
devoured her, tongue flicking fast and hard, like he was trying to make her
feel every ounce of the need clawing inside him.
A gasp broke from her lips, her body arching, but he didn’t stop. His grip on
her thighs tightened, almost bruising, grounding her in place as he licked
her like a man starved—like this was the only way he knew how to speak.
Then suddenly, he pulled back, his mouth leaving her aching and wet. A
whimper escaped her, but before she could speak, he pressed his thumb to
her clit, rubbing in deep, desperate circles.
Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy with unshed tears. Her chest
rose in shallow, ragged breaths as his fingers continued their slow, torturous
circles over her clit—never breaking rhythm, never giving her room to
think.
She was drowning in sensation and the weight of his words, caught in the
dizzying pull between the pleasure he gave her and the pain he had caused.
His eyes locked with hers—dark, frantic, and full of something wild.
Something broken. “Marry me,” he rasped, his voice raw and tight. “Just
one more chance. That’s all I want—just one more chance to love you
right.”
Her breath hitched. His mouth, still wet from her, trailed kisses up her
trembling body. Across her stomach, her ribs, the underside of her breasts—
his lips leaving behind heat, reverence, and longing in every press.
“I’m not letting you go,” he said, the words dragged from somewhere deep
in his chest. “Not now. Not ever.”
Then he leaned in closer, his body visibly trembling, torn between hope and
fear. One hand still moved between her legs, slow and coaxing, while the
other cupped her cheek with aching tenderness.
His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. “I'm not that bad, am I?” His
voice broke slightly, husky and hoarse, like it hurt to speak. “I promise. I
won’t walk away again. Never again, Anya. Just once. Just once more. You
can’t be that heartless to me.”
There was something shattered in his voice—like he was begging not just
for forgiveness, but for a lifeline.
She looked up at him. The man who had wrecked her. The man she had
tried to hate.
And yet… even now, she ached for him. Even now, with everything, she
still wanted him.
Her lips parted, her chest heaving. The words felt heavy.
“…Alright,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over her pounding
heart. “I’ll be with you again.”
For a moment, everything stopped. His breath caught. His body went still.
Then a sound left his throat—half-laugh, half-sob—as if he couldn’t believe
she had actually said yes.
His mouth crashed into hers—desperate, hungry—devouring her like a man
who had been holding his breath for years. His tongue claiming her, his
hands gripping her thighs and waist so tightly it was as if he feared she'd
vanish beneath him.
Her voice was soft, breathless, but it shattered him.
He immediately untied her hands from the headboard, fingers working
swiftly yet possessively, then flipped her onto her chest.
Anya whimpered, a soft, startled sound escaping her lips as she instinctively
tried to shift away. But Dante was faster—his powerful arm pinned her
upper body firmly against the bed, holding her captive with an iron
strength. His other hand grabbed one of her legs, forcing her knee up onto
the bed and spreading her open, laying bare her slick, dripping core to his
hungry eyes.
“You deserve a punishment for making me beg you for so long,” he
growled, voice low and rough like gravel sliding over fire.
Without warning, his hand came down hard on her pretty, arched-up hip.
SMACK!
The sharp, echoing slap cracked through the room. Anya gasped sharply,
breath catching in her throat, her hand flying instinctively to cover her now-
throbbing flesh.
His hand slid down her heated skin, gentle now, tracing the curve of her ass,
down to her knees with slow, teasing strokes that sent a shiver through her.
His thick fingers whispered over her soft skin—an intoxicating contrast to
the fire of his earlier strike.
Her breaths deepened, trembling into heavy pants as tingles spread through
her body.
Then, out of nowhere, the hand landed—smack!—right on her ass.
“Ahh!” Anya’s eyes flew open in surprise as a sharp gasp tore from her
throat. Before she could catch her breath, another smack followed, the
sound cracking loudly through the air.
Not so hard at first—just a shocking sting that made her gasp and squirm—
but with every strike, the blows grew heavier, more insistent. The spanks
rained down mercilessly, sliding down from the top curve of her ass,
trailing lower and lower along her legs to her knees.
Dante’s arm kept her small, trembling body pinned to the bed. Tears pricked
at the corners of her eyes now—part pain, part overwhelming pleasure.
“Ow… oh… oh…” she whimpered, voice breaking.
But despite the sting, her ass involuntarily lifted, pushing up against the air,
begging silently for more.
The rhythm shifted—sharp, stingy slaps interspersed with deep, heavy
thuds that landed perfectly on the sweet spot between her ass and thigh.
Each heavy slap made her squeal, hot wetness slicking between her thighs
and soaking the sheets beneath her.
Every so often, he paused, his fingers gliding lightly, tenderly over her soft
skin. Tracing, soothing. Then without warning, the smacks came down
again, harsh and ruthless.
“Ahh… ahhhh…” her moans grew louder, raw and ragged with need.
His dual nature—hard and soft, ruthless and gentle—tortured and pleased
her in equal measure.
When his fingers finally slipped between her legs, exploring the wet heat he
had coaxed from her, Anya bucked and writhed against him.
Her leg that he’d positioned on the couch, knee raised, gave him perfect
access to her slick, swollen core. His fingers circled her most sensitive spot
with tender slowness, teasing, stroking.
When his fingers finally reached her clit, Anya bucked and squirmed under
him, breath catching as heat pooled deep inside her. Her leg, bent with knee
resting on the bed, gave him a perfect, open invitation to explore her slick,
dripping core.
She heard the sharp intake of his breath—low, rough, caught somewhere
between hunger and surprise—when his fingers lightly grazed her most
sensitive place. It hit her suddenly: he was just as affected by this as she
was.
Her wetness soaked the bed beneath them, warm and slick. She could feel
the rigid hardness of his throbbing length pressed sharply against her hip. It
was huge, powerful.
His eyes were locked on his own fingers as they explored her wet channel,
nails barely grazing the delicate pink skin with a tender, teasing touch. His
lips parted slightly as he licked them, dry with hunger.
“I just want to keep licking you,” he whispered, voice rough and low, barely
audible, eyes fixated on the way his fingers toyed with her most sensitive
spots.
His fingers teased and pinched her clit, expertly hitting the spots he knew
made her shiver and gasp.
“D-don’t do that,” she whimpered, voice trembling as a delicious shudder
rolled through her. Afraid she might convulse uncontrollably under his
teasing, she begged, “Ohh… ahhh…!”
He smirked at her desperate words, then pulled his fingers away from her
slick core, leaving her aching and wanting.
But as soon as he withdrew, her body instinctively tried to follow his touch,
twitching and pressing back to where his fingers had been, craving more.
“Now you’re begging for more,” he murmured.
Without warning, instead of returning to her core, he slid his fingers gently
but firmly into her asshole.
“Good girl,” he growled, voice thick with desire, “Take it nicely in your
sweet holes.”
Anya gasped sharply, eyes wide, her whole body trembling from the bold,
delicious intrusion.
She could only groan, low and needy, as his fingers slid inside her, moving
in and out with exquisite slowness—each stroke driving her crazier with
want. Her breaths hitched, throat tightening as a desperate moan escaped
her lips, and she instinctively tried to grind her clit against the bed for a
moment of relief.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
His palm landed hard across the curve of her ass, sharp and stinging.
“Stay where you are!” Dante snapped, irritation flaring in his voice as she
tried to find her own pleasure instead of letting him dominate every inch of
her.
His hand spanked her fast and hard now, smacks echoing with every stroke,
driving a mix of pain and overwhelming heat through her. Her cries broke
free—tears stinging her eyes as frustration and aching mingled deep inside
her.
“Only I get to pleasure your body,” he said coldly, voice dark and
possessive. “You’re my wife, aren’t you? Let your husband please you.
Don’t rub yourself against the bed.”
His grip on her back tightened like iron, fingers digging in as he wrapped an
arm around her to pin her down, stopping every desperate wiggle and
escape attempt.
He leaned close, breath hot against her ear as his teeth grazed her earlobe
lightly.
“My cock is so fucking hard right now,” he murmured, voice rough, “I just
want to ram you against every hard thing in this room and fuck your pussy
raw.”
Anya’s mind swirled with that hungry promise, his dirty words, pain and
pleasure blurring together.
He gave her no time to wonder. His hand slid back to her clit, fingers
expertly teasing and stroking the delicate, swollen bud with slow, torturous
patience.
“Your pussy is doing a very good job,” he muttered with satisfaction, eyes
dark as he watched her juices drip down from her trembling hole, tracing
the tip of her clit and soaking the sheets beneath her.
Anya whimpered, gasping and panting uncontrollably. Her ass cheeks
burned fiercely from his spanking, every sting mixing with the sweet,
constant pleasure of his gentle finger strokes.
“Ahhh… oh God… h-ahh… Dante…” she moaned, body trembling as the
sensations crashed over her, fierce and consuming.
“Do you need to cum?” Dante growled, his voice low and beastly, filled
with raw hunger that made Anya shiver.
“Y-yes,” she whimpered loudly, her breath shaky, eyes glazed with need.
“Ask me nicely,” he snapped, voice rough like a growl deep in his throat.
“P-please, Dante?” Anya begged through the thick fog of pain and pleasure
swirling inside her. “Can you please make me cum now?”
Without a word, Dante lowered his head and ruthlessly bit down on the soft
side of her neck, teeth sinking in just enough to send a sharp jolt through
her.
“No,” he hissed, voice cold and merciless.
Anya’s body trembled uncontrollably, breath ragged and shallow. She was a
wreck. Her ass burned fiercely from his relentless spanking, each smack
still echoing on her skin. Her core throbbed desperately, swollen and slick,
the thick fingers teasing, stroking, and curling inside her clit in an expert
rhythm that made her head spin.
Every nerve screamed for release, every cell burning for permission to
shatter into pleasure—but he held her tight, merciless and in control.
“Please, Dante,” she begged again, voice raw, soaked with desperation, eyes
pleading for mercy.
She could feel the tension coiling higher inside her, a wild storm building.
Just when the urge to convulse overwhelmed her, Dante suddenly pulled
out, leaving her aching and gasping.
Without pause, he flipped her around, pressing her onto her back on the
bed. Before she could catch her breath, he was on her again, his hard girth
sliding deep inside her trembling heat with a powerful thrust.
At the same time, his mouth found her swollen, sensitive breasts, latching
on with hungry lips and teeth that nipped and sucked fiercely.
His hand didn’t stop its cruel worship, returning to the slick red bud that
was begging for attention. Fingers teased, circled, stroked—while his rod
thrust relentlessly, pounding into her with a rough rhythm that stole her
breath away.
Anya’s control shattered completely. Her foggy mind consumed by lust and
desperate need. Her voice came out as a ragged plea, soaked with want and
trembling desire.
“Suck them harder,” she begged, voice breaking in need, her body arching
into his mouth, craving every rough, demanding touch.
“Yes, Anya,” Dante growled, his voice thick with possessive hunger. “Let
me suck your nipples. I’ll make them so sore you won’t be able to wear
anything for days.”
He took her nipples into his mouth, sucking hard, his teeth grazing the
sensitive peaks just enough to send jolts of delicious pain through her body.
“Yes!” Anya gasped shamelessly, the fire inside her growing with every
stroke of his tongue, every brutal thrust of his shaft. It was like a drug, each
touch only deepened her craving.
Dante’s rod slammed mercilessly into her dripping heat. “Cum for me,
Anya,” he commanded, his voice rough with need.
“Don’t stop… oh God…” she moaned, desperation thick in her voice.
He rubbed her clit harder with his thumb, driving her closer and closer to
the edge. “I want you to scream my name when you cum.”
Her body tensed, trembling with the overload of sensation as his girth
pistoned deep and hard inside her. The raw heat, the aching pleasure, the
sheer force of his touch ripped through her until she shattered into orgasm,
screaming his name into the night.
“Dante! Oh God…!”
He followed, groaning her name as his release flooded through him,
gripping her tight as their bodies shuddered in perfect, raw sync.
Dante didn’t give her a second to recover. His eyes darkened with a ruthless
hunger as he grabbed her hips, pulling her flush against him. His cock
slammed into her again and again, each thrust harder and rougher than the
last.
Anya’s breath hitched, a desperate moan escaping her lips as he fucked her
with no mercy, pounding her until she felt like she might break apart. Her
body trembled, muscles tightening around him, ready to shatter—but just
before she could fall over the edge, Dante suddenly slid down her body.
His tongue flicked out, hot and insistent, tracing slow, teasing circles over
her slick folds. Anya’s hips bucked involuntarily, trembling with
overwhelming need as his mouth worshiped her, licking and sucking her
clit, his rough tongue driving her closer to the edge once again.
She gasped, “Ahhh…” her hands clawing at the sheets beneath her as
pleasure built like a storm inside her.
Just when she thought she couldn’t hold on any longer, Dante’s grip was
suddenly under her knees. With a powerful lift, he hoisted her entire body
off the bed, her legs over his shoulders, leaving her open and vulnerable.
Before she could catch her breath, he thrust upward into her with a force
that stole it away entirely.
“Fuck, Anya,” he growled, his voice like gravel, rumbling from deep in his
chest as he slammed into her over and over again. “You’re mine.”
Her moans turned desperate, raw, torn between pain and pleasure.
“Hahhh… Ahhh… Dante… please—”
But there was no mercy. He held her tight, controlling every movement as
he drove her wild, deeper, harder—until finally, with a shattering cry, she
broke free into a screaming orgasm, her body trembling in his arms.
Dante followed seconds later, his release spilling deep inside her as he held
her close, stilling her frantic movements with possessive strength.
Dante didn’t give her a moment to recover. He placed her down on the edge
of the table. The cold surface met her heated skin, making her shiver. Her
legs instinctively parted for him, thighs trembling in anticipation.
Without a word, he knelt slightly and drove his fingers deep inside her, hard
and fast.
Anya gasped, her back arching as the sudden, relentless rhythm took over
her senses. “Dante—ahh…!”
His eyes never left her face, watching her unravel for him. The table
creaked beneath them as his fingers worked her expertly, deep and fast,
stroking her just right. Her walls clenched around him, her breath
quickening, moans rising in pitch with every thrust.
“You’re close again,” he murmured darkly.
She could only nod, her voice caught in her throat, body already shaking on
the brink.
But just as she was about to shatter, he withdrew his fingers.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 26 EXCLUSIVE
RIGHTS
A desperate whimper escaped her lips, but before she could protest, he
stepped in between her legs, grabbing her hips firmly. In one swift, brutal
thrust, he filled her with his cock.
Anya cried out, her fingers clawing at his shoulders as he drove into her
deeply, picking up where his fingers left off—but harder, rougher.
“I want to feel you fall apart around me,” Dante growled against her ear, his
hips snapping against hers, dragging her toward release once more. “You
don’t get to cum until I say so.”
Her body trembled violently, the fire inside her rising beyond control. She
clung to him, helpless, every thrust sending her closer to the edge than the
last.
Before her breathing had steadied, he scooped her into his arms again,
carrying her back to the bed like she weighed nothing. He laid her down
gently, but the look in his eyes was anything but calm.
He settled between her thighs once more, spreading her open. His mouth
found her clit again—slow, rough strokes of his tongue drawing new
whimpers from her lips. She gasped, her fingers threading through his hair
as her hips rose toward him, completely at his mercy.
“Dante,” she moaned, but he didn’t answer.
He worshipped her with his mouth, licking her like he’d never get another
chance. And in his mind, he wouldn’t waste a second. Not after what they
had been through. Not after she’d looked him in the eyes and let him back
into her heart.
That night, he didn’t stop.
Again and again, he made love to her—sometimes gentle, sometimes rough.
Every kiss was a thank you. Every touch a vow. Every thrust a desperate
promise that he would never hurt her again.
He kissed her trembling shoulders. Her wrists. Her stomach. Her thighs.
And when she lay beneath him, spent and breathless, he brushed a strand of
hair from her face and whispered hoarsely, “Thank you… for giving me
another chance to be yours.”
All he wanted was her—and he showed it over and over until the first light
of morning painted the room with gold.
***
The sound of commotion echoed through the marble halls of Kingsley
Manor.
“You should’ve just finished the damn job when I told you to ruin that girl!”
Janet’s shrill voice screamed, eyes blazing as she glared at the security
guard standing silently before her.
Dante froze mid-step at the entrance of the house, his brows furrowing.
Janet stood in the center of the hall, arms flailing as she barked at a security
guard.
“That arrogant bitch!” Janet was seething. “If you’d just ruined her that day
and tossed her to the streets, she would’ve known who I am! How dare she
hide the fact that she’s Carter’s daughter? And then not even showing up at
the restaurant when I asked her so damn nicely!”
“What the hell did you just say?” Dante’s chilling voice echoed through the
house.
Janet turned around sharply, her face draining of color when she saw Dante
standing there. Her throat went dry, eyes darting in panic from Dante to the
guard.
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, laughing nervously. “Just nonsense. I was
upset. You—leave now!” she snapped at the guard, trying to shove him
away.
“Stay.” Dante pointed a finger, freezing the guard in place as he stormed
inside the house.
“What are you talking about?” Dante demanded. His tone was razor sharp.
“What did you do to Anya?”
“It’s nothing!” Janet blurted again, trying to smooth it over. “I was just
angry—”
Dante raised his hand in her face and then turned to the guard. “You.
TALK.”
The guard looked like he might wet himself on the spot under Dante’s icy
stare. Trembling, he pulled out his phone from his pocket and handed it
over with shaky hands.
“S-Sir… I-I didn’t want to do it… It was Mrs. Kingsley. She made me. I
had no choice,” he stammered.
Dante snatched the phone, playing the video. The sound echoed through the
vast hallway. Hearing the voices, Griffin also emerged from his room, his
brow furrowed, and came to stand next to Dante to see the video.
It showed everything that Janet had done to Anya on the day that she
humiliated her.
And by the end of that video, Dante was shaking with rage.
Janet, now realizing she was cornered, looked terrified. But then her
expression hardened. Her fake innocence melted away, revealing bitterness
and contempt.
“So what?!” she shouted. “She’s the one who barged into our house and
tried to seduce you! That street rat! Did you really think I’d let her stay in
this house?”
“I brought her into this house,” Griffin stepped forward, voice sharp. “My
house, Janet.”
And then—SLAP! His hand connected with her face. Janet stumbled back,
eyes wide with shock.
Her head lifted in shock, but Dante’s face remained cold, and Griffin was
raging.
“You’re living in my house,” Griffin seethed. “You don’t get to decide
who’s welcome here. Get out of here! How dare you make that child go
through something like this? Have you lost your damn mind?”
Janet’s face paled.
“Until you apologize to Anya,” Dante’s voice was dangerously calm, “and
until she forgives you, I won’t have anything to do with you.” He turned
around without sparing Janet another glance and stormed out of the house.
Janet’s body jerked, coming out of the shock.
She gasped, immediately chasing after him. “How can you say that? I’m
your mother! Are you really going to do this to me—for that girl? This
much disrespect?!”
But Dante didn’t stop. He walked out as her voice turned to screeches
behind him. He didn’t look back.
“You! Leave this house within an hour,” Griffin snapped at Janet, his tone
steely. “Neither Anya nor Dante will forgive you for what you did. And I
can’t keep someone like you under my roof anymore. Get out. Right now.”
Janet broke into tears.
“How can you say that, Dad? I’m your daughter-in-law! You’re throwing
me out like I’m nothing? I’ve lived here my whole life! Where am I even
supposed to go?”
Griffin’s eyes were void of sympathy. “Is that my problem?” His voice
dropped to a disgusted whisper. “Get out before I call security. I’ll make
sure they throw you out with your bags. You’ll never step into this house
again. You’ve dirtied it enough with your cruelty. I’m disgusted by you,
Janet. You’re a huge disappointment. How can you be so blind with greed
that you’d stoop this low?”
Janet’s whole body trembled, frozen in place.
But as Griffin had ordered, within the hour, she was thrown out, and banned
from setting foot inside Kingsley Manor ever again.
***
Dante stormed out of his car, his strides long and furious as he marched
toward Anya’s new apartment. Rain crashed down in thick sheets,
drenching him instantly, but he didn’t care. The burning rage inside him
was louder than the thunder.
He grabbed the door handle and shoved it open, the force of his rage
echoing in the slam behind him. The apartment door was unlocked—
carelessly so—but he didn’t care. The rain clung to him, water dripping
from his hair, soaking through his clothes, but the storm inside him burned
hotter.
Anya rushed out of her room at the sound, alarm flashing across her face.
Her eyes widened as she saw him, her breath catching in her throat.
“Dante? What happened?” Her brows drew together in confusion, concern
flickering in her gaze as she took in his drenched state.
He didn’t speak at first. He just stormed toward her, eyes wild with
emotion. Grabbing her shoulders, he snatched her closer to himself.
“Why didn’t you tell me what my mother did to you?!” he snapped. “When
you left my house, why didn’t you say anything?”
Anya stilled. Her entire body stiffened, her lips parted slightly. “…You
know about it?”
His jaw clenched. “I saw everything,” he said, voice rough. “On a video.
Every damn second of it.”
She tensed. A flicker of shame crossed her face as she looked away. “It was
already over. I didn’t want to make it worse,” she murmured.
“Anya!” he exploded, eyes blazing. “This wasn’t some petty fight—she
humiliated you! Hurt you! And you still thought you needed to stay silent?”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said softly, placing a calming hand on his arm. “I
never blamed you. Or Grandpa Griffin. But your mom—”
“You don’t have to forgive her,” he cut in sharply, eyes darkening. “I’m not
asking for that. I’d never ask that of you. She crossed every damn line. I
turned a blind eye to her actions all my life because I thought it didn’t
matter. I could afford all the money she ever needed. But this?” His voice
cracked. “What she did to you… is unforgivable.”
His arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a desperate hug. Her face
pressed into his neck as he whispered into her hair, “I’ll never let anyone
hurt you again. Not even a little. Not ever.”
***
Dante strode toward the executive wing—but this time, it wasn’t his own
office he was heading for. It was Luca Stanson’s.
He paused briefly outside, his eyes flicking to the nameplate on the door,
jaw tightening. Then, without knocking, he pushed it open.
Luca looked up from his laptop, clearly annoyed at the intrusion. The
irritation flickered across his face like a reflex, as if he were ready to snap.
But when he saw who it was, the irritation didn’t explode—it froze. His
expression shifted into a calm, cold disinterest as he glanced back down at
his screen.
“She’s not here,” he said flatly. “If you’re looking for Anya.”
“I came to talk to you,” Dante replied coolly.
That made Luca look up again. This time, he slowly stood from his seat.
Dante walked in fully, his suit still crisp from the office. He approached
Luca with a casual air of arrogance.
“I’ve already spoken to Anya,” he said. A slight tilt of his head betrayed the
smirk beneath. “There are no more issues between us. We’ve made up.”
Luca folded his arms across his chest, hip leaning against his table, and
stared at him with a dry, unimpressed look. “Wow. Amazing. You’re very
great. Good job.”
Dante’s lip twitched, irritation crawling under his skin. He stepped closer.
“Since you know I’m so great,” he said, voice sharpening, “you should stop
chasing a woman who’s already mine. We’re getting married. Soon. And it
doesn’t look good when you’re still hitting on someone who’s taken—it
reeks of desperation.”
‘This guy.’ Luca almost laughed. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to
stop the snicker. ‘Even after I handed Anya over myself, he still comes here
to brag and throw warnings around?’
But his face stayed blank, indifferent. “Since you’re not married yet, what
you say doesn’t count. I still have a chance. Mr. Carter had already agreed
to marry her to me.”
Dante’s eyes blazed.
He took another step forward, face-to-face with Luca now, his presence
imposing, threatening. But Luca didn’t flinch. He remained right where he
was, speaking with the same unshaken arrogance.
“It’s just that Anya chose you to marry,” Luca said, lips curling slightly.
“That’s the only reason Mr. Carter accepted you. So you don’t have to show
off in front of me. When she gets bored of your temper and tantrums, she’ll
come back to me. And then, I’ll make sure she stays mine.”
Dante’s entire body went still. His expression darkened—dangerous.
Luca had seen many powerful men snap. But Dante? He looked like he was
two seconds away from snapping Luca in half and leaving his bones in
some abandoned country, with no return ticket and no name to trace.
But Luca only let out a low laugh and shook his head. “Look at your
behavior. Your attitude. I seriously don’t know what Anya sees in you.”
Dante’s face softened just a little at the mention of her, but he raised his
chin and said, “Anya’s got a kind heart. That’s why. She’s good—better
than both of us. But you?” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t like you. Still, you're
good at your job. So after I marry her, don’t worry. We’ll let you keep your
job.”
Luca gave him a long, unamused stare. “Wow. Thank you, my lord. How
generous of you.”
And with that, he sat back down, returning to his laptop as if Dante didn’t
exist.
Dante followed him, hands in his pockets, walking over with casual
arrogance before leaning his back against Luca’s desk.
He glanced down at the laptop as Luca’s fingers worked the keyboard and
muttered with a frown,
“…Why aren’t you married yet?” he asked suddenly. “Don’t you have
anything better to do than chase after someone else’s woman?”
Luca glanced up, raising an eyebrow. Then slowly, he turned his chair to
face him.
“You already have a girlfriend. Why are you not married yet?”
Dante immediately stiffened. “I am going to marry her!” he barked. “I’ve
just been… a little busy lately and didn’t get the chance.”
"So you think I'm not busy?" Luca asked dryly.
Dante straightened, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he let out a sharp huff.
"Forget it. I’m going to get a diamond ring for Anya right now." His voice
was edged with frustration. Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his
heel and stormed out.
Luca’s brows arched, and he stood up with a scoff, pushing his chair back.
"Fine. I’ll get one too," he said, matching Dante’s strides as he followed
him out. "Just in case I have to stand next to the altar and replace you."
Dante’s deadly gaze cut to him, almost burning Luca to ashes.
An hour later, both men entered Max Mall. It was an extravagant empire of
glass and luxury, built for the top one percent of the city. It wasn’t just the
biggest mall; it was the kind of place where even the rich dared not touch
the price tags. Only those born into obscene wealth shopped here.
The moment Dante and Luca walked in—two tall, devastatingly attractive
men in tailored suits—eyes turned. Conversations paused. Women, dressed
to kill, couldn’t help but stare. Some subtly fixed their hair, others openly
followed the two with hungry gazes, desperate to catch even a second of
attention.
But Dante and Luca were blind to the storm of hormones they had stirred.
They walked side by side, heading straight toward the largest jewelry
boutique in the mall.
"This one," Dante said under his breath, pointing at a gleaming diamond
ring the store manager had just presented.
"Excellent choice, sir," the manager gushed, clasping his hands.
Luca leaned forward, inspecting the ring with a tilted head. "This one’s too
big," he muttered, wiggling his fingers in the air as he imagined the weight.
"It’ll feel heavy on the hand."
Dante shrugged. "It shouldn’t. I’ll just get a replica made with a smaller
diamond."
Luca glanced at Dante as if he’d lost his mind. "Marriage rings are
precious," he said. "You don’t swap them out like car parts."
Dante narrowed his eyes, then quietly slid the ring onto Luca’s smallest
finger without warning.
"Hey!" Luca flinched, his eyes widening.
"Does it really feel that heavy?" Dante asked, watching him.
Luca wiggled his finger, frowning. "Not really. But on more delicate
fingers, it might hurt to wear for long.”
Dante turned to the manager. "Do you have something with a smaller
diamond for a wedding ring? I’ll take this one too, just in case."
"Of course, sir." The manager beamed, flicking his gaze between the two of
them with amusement. "It’s so sweet how careful you both are with each
other for your marriage. I can already tell—it’s going to be a very happy
one."
Dante and Luca froze.
They turned to each other at the exact same moment, eyes wide, faces
contorted in visible horror, and then looked at the manager.
"Try making your partner wear this one, sir," the manager continued
cheerfully, handing a different ring to Dante and grabbing Luca’s hand
again. "His fingers are more slender. I think this style suits him better. It’s
okay if he prefers something a little more femini—"
"I’m getting married to my wife," Dante snapped, stepping away like he’d
been electrocuted.
Luca jumped too, practically flinging his hand away from the ring. Their
mutual expression was one of utter disgust, as if they'd just found out they’d
been holding hands with a snake.
"Not him." Dante’s jaw clenched as he shot Luca a glare full of boiling
outrage. "A woman. Her name’s Anya."
“Ah… sorry, sorry, sir.” The manager’s lips twitched like he was about to
laugh but forced a quick bow instead. "Ah—yes! Yes, sir. My apologies."
He coughed, turning swiftly to the display case. "Right this way…"
He pulled out another ring—this one surrounded with smaller diamonds,
more delicate in design. "How about this, sir?"
Luca slipped next to Dante again, who turned the ring toward him, rolling it
between his fingers thoughtfully.
"This one looks nice," he murmured.
Luca nodded solemnly, “Might fit her finger.”
***
Anya shivered.
Dante’s warm breath hit her skin first, followed by the slow, tantalizing
brush of his nose as it grazed up her shoulder to the curve of her neck. His
lips didn’t touch her yet, but the nearness alone made her tremble. Her lips
trembled with a soft moan.
Then he growled—low, quiet, almost involuntary.
Anya turned her head, and her eyes met his. Dante’s were closed. But as
soon as she moved, he opened them and stared straight into her soul.
His lips lowered, brushing hers in a slow, lingering kiss that melted
everything else away. When he finally pulled back, it was only to lift her
hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her fingers.
Then, out of the blue, he slid a ring onto her finger, and leaned close,
whispering against her ear—
"You're getting married to me."
Her breath caught. She looked down at her hand, eyes widening when she
saw a delicate, glittering ring sitting perfectly on her ring finger.
"Oh my gosh…" she gasped, stunned.
Before she could say more, he turned her gently onto her back. His bare
body pressed against hers, warmth and weight grounding her. One elbow
braced on the mattress beside her, the other hand caressed her cheek, his
eyes full of affection.
"I want one thing before our marriage from you," he said, voice soft but
serious.
Her brows knitted slightly. He had never asked her for anything before, so
the request surprised her. “Yes?”
He leaned in, brushing a kiss to her cheek, then trailing his lips down to her
neck—leaving slow, lingering kisses that made her toes curl.
"I want…" he whispered against her skin.
A soft shiver ran through her as pleasure surged, and her eyes fluttered
closed.
"I want exclusive rights to gift you rings."
Lost in pleasure, his words barely registered in her mind. “What..?”
"Rings," he repeated, kissing lower, his lips roaming the column of her
neck, already covered with his hickeys, yet still not enough for him. Her
neck was his favorite place to kiss, he was addicted to the way she trembled
beneath his mouth. His tongue teased her skin in slow, warm licks.
"Promise me," he murmured. "No one else gets to give you a ring. Not even
a girl. Only me."
The seriousness in his tone made her eyes blink open. And despite the heat
curling through her body, a soft laugh slipped from her lips.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, but his hand moved up to her
chest, fingers brushing over her bare skin, his thumb lazily circling her
nipple.
Her laugh quickly dissolved into a moan.
"Don’t laugh." he growled.
Her eyes opened, locking with his. A teasing smile danced at the corners of
her lips.
"Does it matter that much to you?"
He nodded instantly, sincerity written all over his face, boyish yet intense,
his innocence laced with obsession.
"I don’t like it," he confessed softly. His fingers stroked her nipple with
featherlight touches, making her thighs tighten around his hips and her
breath hitch sharply.
"Please?” he mumbled. “Promise me. I will give you all the rings in the
world. Whichever one you want. One every day, for the rest of your life. No
matter how rare, how expensive—I’ll get it. Just don’t take a ring from
anyone else. Only I can put rings on your hand."
She pressed her lips tightly to hide the smile threatening to break free, then
settled into a serious, almost stern expression.
“If I say no, are you not going to marry me?” she asked, eyes locked on his.
His scowl came instantly, sharp and fierce. “How can that be?” Without
warning, his fingers pinched her nipple hard.
“Ahh!” she gasped, burying her head into his neck to hide the sound.
He chuckled, low and rough. “I told you. You’re marrying me. I’m not
giving you a choice.”
His mouth descended on her neck again, teeth and tongue working
mercilessly. Biting, licking, dragging just enough to send a shock of pain
and pleasure rippling through her skin. She writhed beneath him, unable to
control the shivers that ran over her.
Then, pulling back, his eyes locked with hers, intense and demanding.
“Promise me.”
A sly smirk curved her lips. “No.”
His frown deepened, darkening his features. Then, without a word, he
disappeared under the sheets.
“Wait—” she started, breath hitching as his lips ghosted down her skin. He
didn’t stop—kissed, licked, sucked, relentless in his teasing until her whole
body trembled, cries breaking free despite her best efforts.
When he finally positioned himself between her legs, her mind shattered
completely.
Dante made her cum over and over, each time pushing her closer to the
edge until she was trembling and gasping beneath him. Finally, desperate
and breathless, she begged, “I can’t take it anymore!”
His voice dropped low and rough as he demanded again, “Promise me. No
ring from anyone but me.”
She finally breathed, “I promise… alright?! Just from you.”
That simple vow pulled a satisfied growl from deep in his throat. He slid up
her body, cupped her face in his hands, and crushed his lips to hers in a
fierce, breathless kiss.
Then without warning, he thrust inside her hard and mercilessly, driving her
wild with pain and pleasure as she cried out his name over and over, lost in
the relentless torment he gave her—day and night.

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 EPILOGUE
“Grandpa!”

Anya’s voice rang through the hall as she ran toward James and hugged him
from behind. He turned around, his face lighting up as he pulled her into a
warm embrace.

“You’re glowing, sweetheart,” James chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

Griffin stepped forward, arms open. Anya slipped out of James’s arms and
hurried into Griffin’s, giggling as he enveloped her in a tight hug.

Griffin tilted her head gently, inspecting her with the soft sternness only he
could manage. “Where are you coming from?”

“I was at the office with Dante,” she replied.

Griffin’s eyes immediately narrowed. He glanced down at her baby bump,

now clearly showing six months along. His jaw tightened, and his grip on
his cane became visibly tense. With a sharp thud, he slammed it against the
floor.

“He’s still making you go to the office in this condition?” Griffin barked,
glaring. “Let him come home. I swear I’ll beat that boy black and blue
today. How dare he—”

Anya laughed and quickly shook her head, holding his arm. “No, no! It’s
not like that, Grandpa. He doesn’t make me work. I just sit there… like a
statue. He says he needs me in front of him or he can’t concentrate.”
She blushed slightly and continued, “He even broke down a wall in his
office and made a whole bedroom next door. It’s all decorated. Cozy. He
just walks in and checks on me whenever he wants. Or I go sit on the couch
and watch him work.”

Griffin looked at her like she had just told him Dante built a shrine. “He
made a bedroom inside his office?”

A new voice rang through the room, smooth and familiar. “Because I want
to keep watch on my wife. I can’t have her running across the city with my
child while I’m stuck worrying in the office.”

Dante’s deep voice echoed as he entered, confidence in every step. His eyes
immediately found Anya, and he closed the distance between them in
seconds. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her flush to his chest
and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

He turned to face the older men, not loosening his hold on Anya. “You two
have been gallivanting around the globe ever since you got together. Is the
world tour finally over, or should we expect you to vanish again next
week?”

He clapped a hand onto James’s shoulder, teasing, “You’re not twenty-five

anymore. Maybe try staying in one place for once?”

James rolled his eyes, laughing, while Griffin lifted his cane again and
smacked Dante on the back of the leg.

“Watch your mouth, boy.”

Dante winced and stumbled, rubbing the spot. “Ow! What is it with you and
that stick?!”

“Respect your elders,” Griffin muttered, but there was no real heat in his
tone.

Anya leaned into Dante, her hand on her belly, glowing with laughter and
love.
“Anya is ten years younger than you,” Griffin muttered with a smirk. “Let’s
see what you say when you’re my age, and she’s still looking like a young,
pretty thing while you turn into an old geezer.”

“When I’m your age,” Dante snapped back without missing a beat, “I’ll
lock her up in our room so only I get to see her.”

Griffin let out a bark of laughter, clapping James on the back and pulling
him along. “Leave this brat alone,” he said. “You and I can still outwalk
most twenty-five-year-olds, brother.”

The two older men walked off, their laughter fading down the hall, leaving
Anya and Dante behind.

Dante turned his eyes to her, and the moment their gazes met, his entire
expression softened. Without a word, he stepped closer, bent down, and
swept her up into his arms.

“Dante,” Anya laughed, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck.
“I’m heavy now. You really don’t have to carry me up and down every
single time.”

“What do you think I go to the gym for?” he grinned, watching every step
carefully as he carried her up the stairs. “You’re clumsy and distracted half
the time. What if you missed a step and tumbled down? My two precious
things are safer in my arms.”

She let out a soft snicker, tightening her hold on him. “You know what?”
she mumbled, smiling against his neck. “I actually like this. Now you’re
stuck carrying me even after I give birth.”

“For as long as you want,” he murmured, “and as long as my back doesn’t

give out.”

She giggled, her heart fluttering as he kicked open the bedroom door and
walked inside.
He didn’t lay her down immediately. Instead, he sat down on the edge of the
bed first, then gently adjusted her to sit in his lap. Her legs dangled between
his as he cradled her close, both arms wrapped securely around her waist,
her body resting against his chest.

Then Dante reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

“Here,” he whispered, opening it slowly.

Anya’s eyes lit up as she looked inside. “Oh wow,” she breathed, lifting the
delicate piece. It was a golden toe ring attached to a fine chain, which was
in turn connected to a longer chain with a small clasp at the end.

“Is it... for the hand?” she asked, confused.

He chuckled and shook his head, then gently helped her sit on the edge of
the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he removed her slipper with
care and slid the ring onto the second toe of her right foot. The finer chain
trailed up her foot, the longer one wrapping around her ankle before he
clasped it in place. The gold shimmered under the soft bedroom lights.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, eyes lifting to meet hers. She was staring at it in

awe.

“This is gorgeous,” she whispered.

He smiled, slow and full of heat, then leaned down—his lips brushing
against her skin as he kissed his way up her leg. Each kiss was soft, warm,
and maddeningly slow, making her thighs tense with anticipation.

When he reached her inner thigh, she let out a shaky breath. “Hey…” she
whispered, but it came out as a moan, breathless and weak.

His eyes flicked up to hers, dark with desire. A wicked smirk curled on his
lips.
“You know…” he said, his voice a soft, teasing murmur as his hand slid up
her thigh, slipping beneath the thin fabric that barely covered her. “I only
buy you these rings so I have an excuse to admire you in my bed... wearing
only my gift.”

He leaned in closer, his lips following the same path as his fingers, warm
breath brushing over her sensitive skin. “Haven’t you figured that out by
now?”

She gasped, her fingers clutching the sheets beneath her as his mouth finally
reached her center.

His fingers pushed aside the thin fabric of her panties. His tongue slid
between her folds, slow and deep, drawing out a moan that echoed through
the room. Her body jolted, hips arching toward his mouth on instinct,
chasing the pressure that made her toes curl.

He groaned against her, like her taste drove him wild.

His hands pinned her thighs open, keeping her right where he wanted—
spread out for him, trembling, helpless. He licked her again, slower this
time, dragging the flat of his tongue up her soaked core before flicking her
clit with just enough pressure to make her cry out.

“That’s it…” he murmured against her, voice muffled but hungry. “This is
the only thing I want from you.”

Her fingers found his hair, tugging tightly as pleasure exploded through her
body. She could barely breathe. Every stroke of his tongue sent a jolt of
heat racing through her, and her thighs began to shake.

He looked up briefly, his lips glistening, eyes burning with possessive

pride.

Then he dipped his head again—and didn’t stop until she was trembling and
breathless, falling apart under his mouth like she’d never felt anything that
good in her life.

***

He believed she’d come running back—now he’s running after her.

“You love me unconditionally, but I want a divorce. I need to marry

someone else.”

When Lorenzo Moretti said those words, he watched the light die in Krystal
Vale’s eyes.

For two years, she had been the perfect wife—sweet, obedient, calling him
‘baby,’ delivering his meals three times a day, rain or shine. A woman with
no family, no friends, no complaints. Just devotion to a man who never
once looked back.

“I’ll give you anything in return. A hundred million,” he offered.

“I don’t want it. Let’s get a divorce,” she replied, and vanished before he
even got home.

He thought she would return once she grew tired.

She never did.

Somehow, tracking down his orphaned housewife with no ties has become
impossible for the richest billionaire in the country—and it’s driving him
mad!

Krystal couldn’t be happier leaving that ‘Human Cactus’ behind. Who even
wants to stay married to him?

Now, she asks for a divorce every single day, and for some reason, he’s the
one losing his mind.
Isn’t he the one who asked for this?

Jealous Billionaire’s Endless Regret

Release Date: 30 June 2025

(Preorders Open)

A Little Note:

With 'Jealous Billionaire's Endless Regret' (Book 8), the Obsessed

Billionaires, Cherished Brides series will come to a close.

What's next?

A New Beginning.

I'm excited to introduce my brand-new series:

Possessive Billionaires, Precious Sweethearts

Follow me to the next page for your first exclusive glimpse!

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 POSSESSIVE
BILLIONAIRES,
PRECIOUS
SWEETHEARTS :
EXCLUSIVE FIRST LOOK!
Follow the powerful Graves brothers, heirs to The Empire Group, each a
billionaire CEO utterly obsessed with the woman he loves. They’ll do
anything to protect her, spoil her, and make her happy.

This series is made up of three trilogies. Each trilogy features a different

Graves brother and his own unforgettable, obsessive love story.

Remember the Emperor Hotel? Max Mall? The Emperor Auctions from the
Obsessed Billionaires, Cherished Brides series?

Yeah, the SAME Empire family.

You're about to get up close and personal with their heirs... and it's going to
be deliciously intense.

Each trilogy can be read on its own, but books within a trilogy must be read
in order.
 Trilogy 1: The Billionaire’s Favourite

Book 1: Obsessing Over His

Favourite
"Is she dead yet? If she isn’t, then stop bothering me."

Those were the last words Emily Crawford heard from her billionaire
boyfriend, Lucas Cantrell, before everything went dark on the operating
table.

She survived—but when she woke up, she didn’t remember him. Lucas
didn’t know it yet.

"Stop being so dramatic, Emily. You’re always overreacting."

He had dismissed her every time she was hurt.

But when Emily smiled and said, "Alright. I won’t care about you
anymore," Lucas froze.

Emily had suddenly become sensible.

She no longer argued.
No longer asked where he was.
No longer cared who he was with.

That terrified him.

Then came Sebastian Graves.

CEO of The Empire Group. Cold. Calculating. Powerful.

And now—his eyes were on Emily.

Preorder Now :

Obsessing Over His Favourite

Release Date: 30 July 2025

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 BONUS CHAPTER
Become Dante's special Darling.

Dive into a free bonus chapter featuring him and Anya- it'll be steamy,
romantic, and oh-so-addictive!

With this bonus chapter, I'll secretly send you exclusive, shirtless photos of
our Obsessed Billionaire men. Feeling the heat yet?

Let's keep it just between us. ;)

Drop your email, and I'll send everything over to you. - Sign up for
Shirtless Dante

PS: You just have to submit it once! Then you'll automatically receive all
bonus chapter links, new book links, shirtless photos of all my billionaire
men, and other pretty surprises.

***

Thank you for reading Merciless Billionaire’s Savage Desire. If you

enjoyed this book, I would be very grateful if you could leave a review on
the platforms of your choice.

Reviews are extremely helpful to me and even one word left as a 5 star
review can give me the whole world of happiness!

Heart, Ava

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 BOOKS IN THIS SERIES
Obsessed Billionaires, Cherished
Brides Series
The Obsessed Billionaires, Cherished Brides is a Billionaire romance series.
It follows the lives of women who plunge themselves a bit too deeply into
love, and charismatic, often troubled CEOs who are determined to win their
affection at any cost. Each story is a standalone novel and can be read in
any order.

Book 1: Devoted Billionaire’s Unstoppable

Affection

Book 2: Addicted Billionaire's Devious Obsession

Book 3: Doting Billionaire’s Precious Bride

Book 4: Reckless Billionaire’s Ruthless Claim

Book 5: Possessive Billionaire’s Twisted Hunt

Book 6: Dominant Billionaire's Irresistible

Possession
Book 7: Merciless Billionaire’s Savage Desire

Book 8: Jealous Billionaire’s Endless Regret

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 KEEP IN TOUCH WITH
AVA SELWYN
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 ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
To my cherished readers,

Thank you for embracing Obsessed Billionaires, Cherished Brides series.

Your love means the world to me. I'm deeply grateful for your support and
for making this journey unforgettable.

Heart, Ava

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 ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ava Selwyn
Ava Selwyn is a steamy billionaire romance author with a passion for angst,
heartache, and love that burns with intensity. She creates worlds filled with
powerful, possessive men who crave to give everything to the women they
love. Her stories are drenched in longing, desperate passion, and
unforgettable happily-ever-afters.

When she's not writing, Ava loves to travel, indulging in new cuisines and
exploring diverse cultures. She lives with her many fictional husbands, who
never fail to keep her heart racing.

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