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?!”