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.