CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Impera Aut Accipis
I hope he takes some time to answer us! The letters are piling up. (@deisebloombastic)
The feeling that I’d made the wrong decision didn’t ease until the elevator doors opened. I had a huge box in my lap, creating a barrier between me and Dante, who was waiting as I stepped out.
“For a second, I thought I’d need a bigger incentive to get you here.” His smile could make me stumble before I even took a step.
“I needed to bring this anyway.” I handed him the box, careful not to let our fingers touch.
Dante carried the box to the dining table.
“Did you accept my offer to stay here?” He peeked inside the box I’d given him.
“They’re from your fans.” I adjusted my purse on my shoulder. “You should take some time to answer them.”
He rummaged through the pile of envelopes.
“Seems like an endless job,” he grumbled.
“I thought you said you were a bored guy,” I teased.
“I was trying to scare you, not encourage you to find things for me to do.”
“It’s my job as your lawyer. Keep you busy and out of trouble.”
“For someone who’s supposed to take care of me, you seemed pretty dedicated to avoiding me.”
I moved closer to him, but not too close. I kept a safe distance.
“You don’t need a babysitter all the time,” I said, taking a sip of my whisky. “At least not most of the time.”
Dante’s expression betrayed every thought my words had sparked, and I had to look away before he pinned me against the wall.
“Boiling water?” I shifted my attention to the kitchen, where a pot was steaming.
He gave me a mocking look before walking to the pot and lifting the lid, releasing a wave of aromas into the air.
“A little better than that.” He pulled out a spoon and stirred the contents, tasting some of the sauce without even blowing on it. “Come here.”
I complied, setting my glass on the counter before approaching cautiously. Dante grabbed my hand unceremoniously, sending a jolt through me as he placed some sauce on the back of it and raised my hand to his lips, blowing gently on the hot skin.
“Taste it.”
With Dante’s eyes on me, I brought my hand to my lips and sucked, moaning as the flavors exploded on my tongue.
“Don’t tell me you made this.”
“I’d love to take credit for it and score points with you,” he teased. “But I ordered it from my favorite restaurant. I even hid the bags to fool you… but I can’t lie to you. It’s like you’re a walking lie detector.”
I held back a laugh.
“It’s a gift,” I replied, picking up my glass and taking a sip. “My mother says I have inquisitive eyes.”
“It’s a dangerous trick,” he replied, and his demeanor was no longer relaxed—as if he’d stopped just going with the flow and had started orchestrating the conversation instead.
I stepped out of the narrow space that seemed to shrink with every passing second.
“Your mother isn’t here?”
“She’s with Maressa. It’s just the two of us.” Dante went to the cabinet and pulled out silverware and plates. “And the guard dogs you got me.”
“They’re for your protection.” I went to the window, where I could see security guards moving around on the ground floor.
“It’s more like a luxury prison,” he grumbled, moving closer.
“You can leave if you want.” I turned to face him and didn’t realize how close we were.
“And go where? There aren’t many places I’d want to be.” He looked me up and down. “And the ones that interest me seem inaccessible sometimes.”
“Is there a gym here?” I stepped back, trying to put some distance between us. “You should find something to channel your energy.”
“I’ve been doing functional training on the balcony,” he said, sitting on the couch. “But it feels pointless.”
“You’ll find a way.” I sat in the armchair across from him.
“Oh… I’m sure of that, Helena.” Dante leaned back with a wry smile. “It’s just a matter of time.”
His eyes followed me as if tracing lines around me, tracking and measuring my every reaction.
“You said you wanted to renegotiate the terms of our agreement.” I steered us back to the reason for dinner. “What kind of adjustment do you need to make?”
“We’ll talk about that after dinner.”
Dante walked to the table, pulling out a chair for me. I headed toward him but at the last minute took the other seat instead. My little act of defiance amused him.
“Never predictable, are you, Dr. Helena?” He circled me, stepping into my space to pour me a glass of wine.
“Timing is everything in my line of work.”
Dante leaned in close, his lips near my ear, his jaw brushing against my hair.
“Work, huh? We’re always talking about that.”
He went to the kitchen and returned with our dinner, calmly serving the Veal Marsala. The aroma of herbs and wine was intoxicating.
“This looks perfect.” I admired the dish, but Dante seemed to be studying my every expression.
“It’s more than perfect, Helena,” he said, as if his words held a deeper meaning.
Each bite was a revelation, and I soon understood why Dante had missed this dish so much. It was like a perfect symphony—a sensual balance of flavors.
“Thank you so much for sharing this with me. I could eat this every day for the rest of my life,” I said, helping Dante clear the plates while balancing my freshly refilled wine glass.
Dante, who was loading the baking dish into the dishwasher, suddenly straightened up and bumped my hand. The cool wine soaked my blouse and ran down my skirt, trickling down my leg.
“Forgive me, Helena.” Dante grabbed the dish towel hanging from the oven door and began dabbing at my knit blouse without ceremony or hesitation, his hand pressing against my abdomen through the soaked fabric.
“My legs.” I looked down—it looked like I was bleeding. The dark wine had created small rivulets streaming down my skin.
Without a second thought, Dante knelt and ran the cloth up from my ankle toward my thigh, slowly capturing each droplet of wine trailing over my curves.
I gripped the counter as his fingers wrapped around my calf to steady himself, while he moved the cloth gently over my skin. I wondered if he knew how unsettling it was to see him at my feet. But I didn’t need to wonder—his movements made it clear he knew. And it even amused him a little.
“Dante,” I managed to say as his movement lifted the hem of my skirt slightly, exposing a bit more of my thigh.
His eyes traveled slowly up my legs until they met mine. The way he looked at me made my knees weak, forcing me to hold on tighter.
With his eyes locked on mine, Dante rose to his feet, creating a wall between me and my sanity. He wet his lips and stepped forward, forcing me to step back.
He leaned into the cabinet, pressing me against it.
“I think this is the first time the only thing stopping me from kissing you is knowing you’d walk out that door and never come back.
” His tone was almost a confession—a conscience I didn’t expect him to have.
He cupped my face in his hands and measured the space between us, as if sensing all my defenses, waiting for them to fall one by one.
I felt like I’d tear them down myself if Dante pressed me against this counter for one more second.
“I’ve dreamed about the smell and the taste,” he murmured.
His lips didn’t touch my forehead, but his soul definitely reached mine in that moment.
“About the sensation of your lips against mine. Your breast pressing against my chest while I hold you so close it’s like I could tattoo you onto my skin. ”
“I knew coming here without clear boundaries would be a problem,” I admitted.
“And yet you came,” he said, caressing my cheek. “You wanted the boundaries to be clear, but the truth is you don’t know where the line is, do you?”
“And what do you expect me to do with that?” I asked. “Do you expect me to kiss you and ignore all the ethical issues involved in letting you sweep me away?”
“I wouldn’t complain.”
“That’s your problem. You’re always ready to cross any line to satisfy your ego.”
Dante smiled, but not in a friendly way. There was something dark in that smile that raised goosebumps on my skin.
“You think I want you for my ego?” Dante closed the remaining distance between us, pressing his hips against me, letting me feel every inch of him.
The hand that had been caressing my face now gripped the nape of my neck, while the other pulled me closer, his fingers digging into my waist. “My ego doesn’t command my body or my mind.
And if it did, you’d already be naked in my bed, because that’s what your body is begging mine to do. ”
“That’s what you think.”
“It’s what I feel. What I see.” His fingers sank into my hair. “It’s what your skin screams while your mind agonizes over moral dilemmas.”
“I’m sorry I’m not ruled by my instincts alone,” I said, pushing him away, feeling suffocated and angry. But Dante didn’t budge.
“It’s a shame… because they’re too good to only come out when Dr. Helena Torres takes control.”
“I think I’d better leave.”
“Running away won’t solve our situation, Helena.”
“And staying will drag us both down forever.” I waited for Dante to step back. “This is the real world now… and in the real world, we don’t always get what we want.”
Dante stepped back. Giving me space to breathe again. Space my body was begging him to fill once more.
“Then go. But before you do... hear me out one last time. No lawyer. No defendant. No game.”
I hesitate. The way out is clear, but I don’t move.
“I know who you are when you’re not wearing that armor you hide behind. And I see you. I feel you. And it wasn’t a hallucination. It was the best damn thing that’s happened to me in years.”
Dante sees me as someone I haven’t allowed myself to be. As if he could see the traces I left behind, hoping that someday someone would find me.
Even though I wasn’t lost.
Even though I couldn’t admit I was.
“If you want to leave...” his voice broke, heavy and cracked. “I won’t keep you here.”
The air vanished.
It was just us and this vacuum, suffocating under the weight of our own heartbeats.
“I...” he ran his tongue over his lips, his chest rising and falling with breaths that hurt just to watch. “I’ll break the damn dome.”
The floor seemed to spin beneath my feet.
“But... if you stay,” his voice dropped lower, like a curse dressed as a promise, “and God knows how badly I want you to stay... then understand, Helena... nothing, and no one, will stop me from making you mine. Entirely mine.”
His chest rose, tense, his jaw locked, his eyes... my God... his eyes were begging and threatening in equal measure.
“I’m going to touch you with my darkness...” he took one step, just one, but it was enough to set me ablaze, “...and stain every last petal of yours. Like a plague. Like a possession. Like a spell you won’t want to be saved from.”
My entire body trembled.
I could hear the sound of my own ruin groaning inside my chest.
“So choose, Helena.” His voice became a sentence. “Be your own judge tonight.”
Stay...
Or condemn us to the emptiness of what will never be.