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.