Chapter 15
15
EMILIA
D ante didn’t come home.
I told myself I didn’t care.
I told myself it didn’t matter where he was, who he was with, or what he was doing.
But as the hours stretched on and the penthouse remained silent, that lie became harder and harder to swallow.
I knew there was trouble but he said he would only be a few hours.
I woke that morning and there was no familiar sound of him in the kitchen, no familiar tension of us living under the same roof. Now after noon and he still hadn't returned a single text.
Me: Where are you?
No answer.
Me: Are you at least alive? Or do I now own your entire empire?
No answer.
I paced the length of the living room, my bare feet sinking into the plush rug as I clutched a glass of wine I didn’t even want. The city sprawled out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a glittering expanse of lights and movement, but it felt distant—like another world I no longer belonged to.
I hated this.
I hated the waiting. The uncertainty. The way Dante could disappear without a word and leave me here, stewing in my own frustration like some obedient little wife.
And I hated that it bothered me.
Luca, of course, was no help.
He was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, his feet propped up on the coffee table like he owned the place. The TV blared some sports recap, the volume obnoxiously loud, but he didn’t seem to care.
Or maybe he did. Maybe this was his way of making sure I knew exactly how little my irritation mattered.
I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening around the stem of my glass. “Are you just going to sit there all night?”
Luca didn’t even glance at me. “Yep.”
I exhaled sharply through my nose. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching me?”
He smirked, still not looking away from the screen. “I am watching you.”
I rolled my eyes, setting my untouched wine down on the coffee table with a little more force than necessary. “Where is he?”
Luca finally turned his head, his sharp blue eyes meeting mine with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. “Who?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t play dumb.”
He grinned. “I’m not playing.”
I crossed my arms, my nails digging into my skin. “Where is Dante?”
Luca stretched, letting out a lazy sigh. “Busy.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to stay calm. “Is he safe?”
Luca’s smirk faded slightly, his expression turning unreadable. “Dante can handle himself.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He studied me for a moment, then shrugged. “He’s fine.”
Fine.
That was it. No details, no reassurance, just a single, dismissive word.
I turned away, my pulse thrumming with frustration.
I shouldn’t care.
I shouldn’t care.
But I did.
And that infuriated me more than anything else.
I stalked toward the kitchen, needing to put some distance between myself and Luca before I did something reckless—like throw his phone out the window or dump my wine on his head.
The kitchen was dimly lit, the under-cabinet lights casting a soft glow over the marble countertops. I leaned against the island, pressing my palms flat against the cool surface, trying to steady my breathing.
This wasn’t about Dante.
Not really.
It was about control.
Or, more accurately, my complete lack of it.
I had no say in where I went, what I did, or who I spoke to. My life had been reduced to a series of dictated choices, each one carefully orchestrated by a man who saw me as nothing more than a piece on his chessboard.
And now, he wasn’t even here.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my nails biting into my palms.
I needed to do something.
Anything.
I turned on my heel and marched back into the living room, planting myself directly in front of the TV.
Luca sighed dramatically. “Really?”
I crossed my arms. “Turn it off.”
He arched a brow. “No.”
I grabbed the remote off the coffee table and clicked the power button. The screen went black.
Luca blinked up at me, then let out a low whistle. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.”
I tossed the remote onto the couch beside him. “Where. Is. Dante.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his smirk returning. “Why do you care?”
I clenched my jaw. “I don’t.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t.”
“Sure.”
I exhaled sharply, my patience wearing dangerously thin. “You’re an asshole.”
Luca grinned. “Runs in the family.”
I turned away, my hands curling into fists. “I’m going to bed.”
“Sweet dreams, princess.”
I flipped him off over my shoulder, ignoring his chuckle as I stormed down the hall.
Sleep didn’t come easily.
I tossed and turned, my mind a tangled mess of frustration and unwanted thoughts. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Dante—his smirk, his dark eyes, the way he always seemed so infuriatingly in control.
Where was he?
Who was he with?
Was this deliberate? A reminder that no matter how much I pushed, no matter how much I fought, he still held all the power?
The thought made my stomach twist.
I hated him.
I hated him for making me feel this way.
And I hated myself for letting him.
Sometime after midnight, I gave up on sleep entirely.
I threw off the covers and padded toward the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. The city stretched out below, alive and pulsing, a stark contrast to the suffocating stillness of the penthouse.
I used to love the city at night.
Now, it just made me feel trapped.
I sighed, rubbing my temples.
I needed to get out of here.
I needed air.
I turned away from the window, already heading for the door.
Luca was still on the couch, his long legs stretched out, one arm draped over his eyes. He wasn’t asleep—I could tell by the way his fingers tapped idly against his thigh—but he didn’t acknowledge me as I stepped into the room.
“I’m going out,” I announced.
Luca didn’t move. “No, you’re not.”
I bristled. “You can’t keep me here.”
He lifted his arm just enough to peek at me. “I can, actually.”
I scowled. “I won’t go far.”
“Not happening.”
I crossed my arms. “Dante isn’t here. He won’t even know.”
Luca sat up, his expression turning serious. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, I get it. You’re pissed. You feel trapped. But this isn’t a joke, Emilia. This is survival. There are people out there who would love to get their hands on you just to hurt him.”
I hesitated, my frustration warring with the uncomfortable truth of his words.
Luca’s gaze softened—just slightly. “I know my brother’s an asshole. But he’s not keeping you here for fun.”
I swallowed hard, my nails biting into my palms.
I hated that he was right.
I hated that, despite everything, a part of me still wanted Dante to walk through that door and tell me himself.
But he didn’t.
And I had no choice but to wait.
So, with a reluctant sigh, I turned on my heel and headed back to my room.
Luca didn’t say anything as I left.
And I didn’t look back.
But as I climbed into bed, staring at the ceiling, I made a silent vow.
I wouldn’t wait forever.
Dante thought he held all the power.
But he was wrong.
Luca was snoring.
I stood in the hallway, staring at his sprawled-out form on the couch, his arm draped over his eyes, his chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths.
Unbelievable.
The man had one job.
I hesitated for half a second, debating whether I should wake him up and demand he take me out somewhere—anywhere—but I already knew how that would go. He’d smirk, tell me to sit my ass down, and go right back to doing nothing.
No. If I wanted out of this suffocating penthouse, I’d have to do it myself.
I slipped back into my room, grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and fired off a text to Adrianna.
Me: You up?
Her response was immediate.
Adrianna: Obviously. What’s up?
Me: Want to go out?
Adrianna: Where?
I chewed my lip, glancing toward the window.
Me: That club Dante owns.
There was a pause.
Adrianna: You sure that’s a good idea?
Me: No.
Adrianna: Perfect. I’ll pick you up in ten.
I grinned, shoving my phone into my pocket.
Getting out was easier than I expected.
Luca didn’t even stir when I slipped past him, his snores deep and steady. I grabbed my purse, my heels clicking softly against the marble as I made my way to the elevator.
By the time I stepped outside, Adrianna’s car was already idling at the curb, Michael in the driver’s seat, looking as exasperated as ever.
“Seriously?” he said as I slid into the back seat. “You couldn’t have picked a worse place?”
I smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Adrianna turned in her seat, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You look like you need a drink.”
“You have no idea.”
The club was packed.
Music pulsed through the air, the bass vibrating beneath my feet as Adrianna and I pushed our way through the throng of bodies. The lights flickered in time with the music, casting the crowd in flashes of neon and shadow. The scent of expensive perfume, sweat, and alcohol clung to the air—a heady, intoxicating mix that made my pulse quicken.
For the first time in days, I felt free.
No Dante. No suffocating penthouse. No constant, looming shadow of danger. Just the chaos of the club, the rhythm of the music, and the promise of losing myself in it—for a little while, at least.
We made our way to the bar, squeezing into a small space between two groups of laughing strangers. Adrianna flagged down the bartender and ordered us drinks, her voice raised above the pounding beat of the music. I glanced toward the dance floor, where people moved together in a haze of lights and motion, their bodies swaying in perfect disregard for the world outside these walls.
Adrianna handed me a drink, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Relax, Emilia. We’re here to have fun.”
I nodded and took a sip, the cold bite of vodka sliding down my throat.
We found a spot near the edge of the dance floor, Adrianna already moving effortlessly to the beat. Her body swayed with the music, her hands lifting into her dark hair as she let herself go, free and uninhibited. I envied her for that—her ability to let go of everything and just be.
But I couldn’t.
Not yet.
The tension in my chest wouldn’t ease, and no amount of alcohol was drowning the thoughts swirling in my head. I sipped my drink and let my gaze drift across the crowd, searching for something to distract me.
And then I saw him.
Dante.
The sight of him stopped me cold.
He was sitting in one of the private booths, his posture relaxed, his long legs spread slightly as he leaned back against the plush leather. His arm was draped casually over the back of the seat, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
And beside him?—
Valentina.
My stomach twisted violently, the drink in my hand suddenly too heavy to hold.
She was leaning close to him, her lips painted a deep, perfect red, her dark hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. Her fingers traced slow, lazy patterns on the table between them as she spoke, her gaze locked on his. She was smiling, her laugh cutting through the music like a knife, light and flirtatious, as though nothing else in the world existed except him.
And Dante?
He wasn’t touching her, but he wasn’t pulling away either. His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes fixed on hers as though he was humoring her—or maybe indulging her.
My grip tightened around my glass, the condensation on the outside slick against my fingers.
Adrianna noticed my stillness, her dancing slowing as she followed my gaze. Her eyes landed on Dante, then Valentina, and her expression darkened.
“Do you want to leave?” she asked, her voice low.
I did.
I should have.
The rational part of me knew that staying would only make it worse. That watching them would only feed the ugly, burning thing clawing its way up my chest. But my feet wouldn’t move.
I stood frozen, my heart pounding in my ears, my mind racing as I watched Valentina tilt her head back in laughter, exposing the delicate curve of her throat. Dante’s lips quirked, the faintest hint of a smile that made my stomach churn.
Something hot and ugly burned in my chest, spreading like wildfire.
Jealousy.
It burned, sharp and unrelenting. I hated the way she laughed, the way she leaned in like she belonged there. But most of all, I hated him —for making me care.
I lifted my glass and downed the rest of the drink in one go, the alcohol burning its way down my throat. It did nothing to douse the fire in my chest, but at least it gave me the courage to act.
“Let’s go,” I muttered, slamming the empty glass onto the bar.
Adrianna didn’t argue. She looped her arm around mine, tugging me toward the exit, her sharp gaze darting toward Dante one last time before we pushed through the crowd.
But I couldn’t resist one last glance over my shoulder.
Valentina leaned closer to him, her hand brushing his arm as she said something into his ear, but he didn’t look at her.
The cool night air hit me like a slap, sharp and sobering as we stepped outside. My chest ached, my stomach still twisted with jealousy and anger and something I couldn’t quite name.
“Emilia,” Adrianna said softly, her voice careful.
“Don’t.” I shook my head, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “Don’t say anything.”
She didn’t.
But the silence between us was heavy as we walked away, the pulsing beat of the club fading into the distance.