Chapter 21 We’re over!
“I feel so nervous,” Anya muttered, her fingers fidgeting on Luca’s arm. “This is going to be my first appearance as someone’s partner at a business auction.”
Luca gave a soft chuckle and patted her restless hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
Anya looked up at him, her wide eyes filled with unease. Her silver gown shimmered under the soft chandelier lights, hugging her delicate frame and exuding elegance with every step she took. Her hair was styled into a sleek bun, a few loose strands framing her face to soften the look. She looked stunning, but the anxious glimmer in her eyes betrayed her discomfort.
Luca, on the other hand, looked like he’d walked out of a magazine cover—dressed in a tailored white suit, crisp and clean, with a pale blue shirt left slightly open at the collar. No tie. Just effortless confidence. The hint of his collarbone, paired with his gentle eyes and well-defined jawline, made him look every bit the charming gentleman—cool, composed, and perfectly poised beside her.
Anya swallowed hard and nodded slightly, her lips pressed into a tense line. Her heels clicked softly as they entered the grand ballroom together, drawing curious glances.
The event space was filled with socialites, business elites, and media whispers—but Anya held her head high, clutching Luca’s arm for strength as they took their seats near the front.
Soon, the auction began. Hosts welcomed the guests, and luxurious diamond pieces started appearing on display. Bids rose quickly. Laughter and soft chatter blended with the sound of numbers being called out.
But as the excitement buzzed around her, Anya’s attention wavered.
Her gaze drifted through the crowd until it locked onto a shadowed figure seated just a few rows away.
Dante.
His presence hit her like a sudden chill. He sat tall in a sharp, black suit. Beside him was Jennifer. She wore a dull gray business suit, her hair tied tightly back, expression polite and impersonal.
When Dante caught her gaze, he noticed how she looked at Jennifer, then back at him—but her expression didn’t change.
Dante’s jaw clenched.
‘She’s not even jealous?’ he thought, the bitterness rising in his chest. ‘She saw me with Jennifer and didn’t even blink?’
His fingers tightened around the glass of champagne in his hand.
‘Does she really not care about me anymore?’
Anya met Dante’s stare, refusing to flinch—until he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly and tilted his head, a silent warning in his gaze. The gesture was subtle but enough to send a chill crawling down her spine.
His expression wasn’t loud, but it was laced with possessiveness and something darker—resentment. As if he was asking her without words: How dare you sit beside him?
Her throat tightened. She quickly turned away, refusing to give him another glance, but she could still feel his glare burning holes into her back—hot, heavy, piercing.
“Anya, how about that one?” Luca leaned toward her, speaking softly to catch her attention.
She blinked, shifting her gaze toward the display. A radiant diamond had just been unveiled—large, with rare deep pink and maroon hues that sparkled under the spotlight like fire and wine fused into stone.
“It’s beautiful,” Anya whispered, eyes widening in awe. “Oh my…”
“You like it?” Luca asked, watching her light up. “Do you want it for yourself?”
She turned to him, surprised by the question. His expression was calm, affectionate even, with a smile on his lips.
“Is that possible? Can I?” Her voice came out breathy, a mix of disbelief and wonder.
“Of course. We can buy other diamonds for business.” Luca replied easily, his tone confident. He gently patted her hand. “Anya, you’re the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the country. His entire empire is already yours. Don’t overthink something like this.”
A grin stretched across Anya’s face—soft, genuine. She squeezed his hand and said excitedly, “Then I want that diamond, please. I want it so much.”
Without hesitation, Luca turned to the auctioneer and raised his bidding paddle.
“Sixty million.”
The hall stilled instantly.
All whispers died. Heads turned. It was the highest bid so far.
But the silence shattered a heartbeat later—by a calm, clipped voice from across the room.
“Seventy.”
Everyone turned toward the sound. Luca and Anya’s heads snapped in the same direction.
Dante.
He sat relaxed in his seat, one arm draped over the back of the chair, but his eyes were locked on them—cold, challenging, and sharp as a blade. He didn’t even glance at the diamond. He only stared at Luca, as if daring him.
Anya’s breath caught.
Luca’s jaw flexed, his fingers curling around the paddle again.
“Eighty,” he bit out, raising the bid without looking away.
“A hundred,” Dante called out immediately.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Luca was already lifting his paddle again, jaw tight. “One hundred and twenty-fi—”
“Two hundred million,” Dante cut in, his tone sharp and careless—like he was simply stating the weather.
The crowd burst into a mixture of shocked gasps and murmurs. Even the auctioneer blinked twice, stunned.
Luca tightened his grip on the paddle, a vein ticking along his temple. He was just about to raise it again when Anya reached over and grabbed his hand.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Let him have it if he wants it that badly.”
He looked down at her, disbelief and irritation flashing in his eyes. “He’s doing this on purpose. It doesn’t matter, Anya. We can afford it. Don’t worry.”
“That diamond isn’t worth more than a hundred and fifty million,” she said, eyes on his. “There’s no point paying double just to prove something to him. Let it go. I don’t even like it that much. I will just get another one.”
Luca hesitated—then finally exhaled and lowered his hand, frustrated but listening to her.
“Two hundred million going once… twice… sold!” the auctioneer finally declared, his voice ringing through the hall.
A murmur spread like wildfire among the guests as the auctioneer raised his hand toward Dante’s table and announced him the winner of the bid.
Luca shook his head slightly, clearly displeased, but Anya gave him a gentle pat on the arm and smiled.
“I’m fine. It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t even that pretty.”
A few rows away, Dante sat as if carved from stone. His jaw was clenched, his posture rigid. Every inch of him radiated tension as his gaze drilled into the two of them whispering together.
The auctioneer approached him with the diamond displayed on a velvet-lined gold platter, but Dante didn’t take it. Instead, he leaned forward and muttered something to the man.
The auctioneer blinked, nodded in absolute shock, and turned on his heel—making his way toward Anya and Luca, who had just stood from their seats, preparing to leave.
“Miss Anya,” the auctioneer said politely, stopping in front of her. “Mr. Kingsley would like to gift this to you.”
All eyes turned to Anya.
But she didn’t even glance at Dante, or the diamond. Her expression didn’t change.
“I don’t want it,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Take it back.”
The auctioneer hesitated, clearly at a loss, glancing over his shoulder toward Dante in growing discomfort.
But before anyone could process what was happening, the sound of firm, determined footsteps echoed through the hall.
Dante was already striding toward her.
He didn’t stop until he was standing directly in front of her. His towering figure cast a long shadow.
He reached out, picked up the diamond from the platter, and held it out to her—his palm open, his eyes locked on hers.
Holding it out, he said softly, “Since you like it this much, then accept it.”
The stone sparkled under the lights, cold and brilliant.
Anya finally lifted her eyes to him, but there was no warmth in them—just coldness, unlike the soft gaze he used to know.
“I only accept gifts from people I’m close to, Mr. Kingsley,” she said calmly, her voice smooth and poised. “You and I are strangers now. So please keep your distance, and don’t do things that could cause misunderstandings for me.”
Dante’s face froze, as if slapped. Then he scoffed, the sound bitter and disbelieving. “Strangers?”
Anya simply gave a faint shrug, tilting her head ever so slightly. “Yes. Just strangers.”
The very next moment, Dante tossed the diamond back onto the plate. The sharp clink echoed like a gunshot. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and then he turned abruptly and stormed off.
The auctioneer flinched and bowed his head slightly, then quickly turned away, carrying the diamond toward Jennifer, who stood up silently to receive it.
The silence didn’t last long.
Gasps.
Then a rising storm of gossip:
“Oh my god… did she just talk to Dante Kingsley like that?”
“That was so damn bold of her. She rejected his gift?”
“Isn’t he, like, one of the richest men in the country? I’m dying just to get a glance from him!”
“My sister tried to speak to him last week, but he didn’t even blink her way. And now he’s offering a two hundred million dollar diamond to this girl?”
“Who is she? I’ve never seen her before. Is she from overseas?”
Within minutes, the entire hall was buzzing. People leaned in, whispered behind hands, typed hurried messages under the table.
The gossip swirled like wildfire. Within minutes, the news of Dante Kingsley offering a diamond to a mysterious girl—and being coldly rejected—became the hottest, most scandalous topic in the social circle.
Dante stormed out of the auction hall, but didn’t leave the premises. Instead, he stood in the dimly lit corridor just outside, half-shielded by one of the marble pillars. The noise of the auction continued behind him, muffled now, distant, like a world he no longer wanted to be part of.
It had been over a week since he last saw Anya.
And today, the way his heart reacted just from seeing her eyes again—it made him feel like a damn fool. A starving man, desperate for a taste, only to find her gaze colder than ice. She looked at him like he was nothing more than a stranger in a crowded room.
As if he had never mattered at all.
Dante’s fingers clenched around the cigarette between them, his knuckles whitening. He brought it to his lips and took a long drag, exhaling slowly as the smoke curled in the cool evening air.
But the burn in his chest wasn’t from nicotine.
His jaw tightened.
A moment later, a familiar voice broke the silence.
“Mister Kingsley,” came a teasing drawl. “I heard you got publicly rejected by a young girl today. That’s new.”
Dante’s brows twitched, irritation flickering through his expression as he turned his head.
Adrian stood a few feet away, leaning casually against a pillar, amusement dancing in his eyes and a grin tugging at his lips.
“I came too late,” Adrian continued with a light laugh. “Missed the whole show, unfortunately.”
Dante let out a low breath, flicking ash from the end of his cigarette. His tone was clipped. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Adrian shrugged, walking over with a relaxed gait, hands in his pockets. “Got bored at the office. Figured I’d drop by for some high-society drama. Never expected you to be the headliner, though.”
He stopped just a step away from Dante and leaned in slightly, voice lowering with mock seriousness. “In Manhattan, women practically faint just to be noticed by you. And today, one girl refused your gift. That’s gotta sting.”
Dante said nothing, his silence seething.
Adrian smirked and tilted his head. “Tell me again, is that the same girl you told me a few days ago you don’t care about? Or was she one of those ‘dozens’ you claimed you were just going to marry after leaving Anya?”
Dante’s hand tightened around the cigarette, the ember glowing hotter with the pressure.
“Shut the fuck up,” Dante gritted out, his voice low and sharp with warning.
He dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his polished shoe. The ember hissed and died beneath the weight, but the sigh that followed couldn’t ease the pounding in his chest. His heart was restless—furious, aching, and helpless all at once.
Adrian stood beside him, arms folded, his posture relaxed but his eyes observant. He turned slightly, peering through the tall glass window into the auction hall. His gaze found Anya, standing beside Luca, calm and composed as if nothing had happened—as if she hadn’t just shattered Dante’s pride minutes ago.
“That girl’s beautiful,” Adrian muttered under his breath. “And she’s smart. She worked as your secretary and you never once had a complaint about her performance.”
Dante turned to him, his brows furrowing.
Adrian met his gaze, face turning uncharacteristically serious. “Since you’re clearly out of the picture now, maybe I’ll introduce her to some of my single friends. I know a few who’d kill for a woman like that—poised, gorgeous, and not swayed by wealth.”
Dante’s fists clenched instantly, his jaw tightening.
“Are you not going to stop talking?” he snapped. His voice dropped to a dangerous growl as he stepped closer to Adrian, eyes blazing with fury. “Try me. I fucking dare you.”
Adrian let out a quiet chuckle, but the amusement in his eyes faded as he studied his friend’s expression.
Straightening his stance, he lowered his voice. “If you want her, act fast, Dante. Or you’ll regret it. She won’t be lacking admirers. Girls like her don’t wait around. She’s not one of your business acquisitions you can walk away from and expect to renegotiate later on your own terms.”
He leaned in slightly, his tone cooling like ice. “This isn’t a contract. It’s not a deal you can win back with power or money. That girl will move on faster than you can blink. And if she does, she won’t look back.”
Dante’s jaw clenched as he turned toward the glass again. His gaze locked onto Anya—laughing softly at something Luca had said, her hand resting lightly in his. The way Luca looked at her like she was the center of his universe, only made the burn in Dante’s chest worse.
Five minutes later, Anya stepped out of the hall, her expression calm as she adjusted the strap of her purse. Luca had stayed behind, busy talking to one of the auction organizers. She was alone now, moving down the quiet corridor lined with golden-framed artwork.
She had barely taken a few steps when a firm hand grabbed her wrist from behind and yanked her roughly.
She gasped, eyes flying wide.
Dante.
Before she could even speak, he was already dragging her down the hallway, his grip tight.
“Let me go!” she snapped, trying to twist free, but he didn’t even look back.
His steps were hard and fast. He didn’t stop until they reached a heavy oak door near the end of the corridor. With a swift push, he shoved it open and pulled her inside.
The room was empty—likely a storage lounge used during events. He slammed the door behind them and locked it with a loud click .
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Anya hissed, whirling around. Her voice was sharp, furious, but her chest rose and fell rapidly—her heart pounding from the sudden force.
She turned to walk past him, but he blocked her path, pressing a palm against the door.
She tried to move sideways, but he caught her shoulders and pushed her gently but firmly back, caging her in.
“Move,” she demanded.
He didn’t.
“Isn’t this the only way left for me to have a fucking conversation with you?” he said, his voice low, breath hot with frustration.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she snapped, eyes flaring. “And if I wasn’t clear before, I’ve made it clear now.”
“You’re just going to ignore me now? Even after running into me?” Dante’s voice was sharp with resentment as he closed the distance between them. His hand shot out, grabbing her arm with a force that made her pulse race. “It’s been over a damn week, Anya. Do you not miss me at all? How can you treat me like a fucking stranger?”
Anya flinched slightly under his grip, but her gaze remained cold as she met his eyes. “Then what are you?” she snapped, voice trembling slightly with restrained emotion, though she made sure he couldn’t see it. “You made it very clear the last time we met that you didn’t want to talk to me. So since that’s the case, start by leaving me alone, Mr. Kingsley.”
The words seemed to snap something in Dante. He took a step forward, towering over her now, his breath ragged and heavy as the anger in him reached its peak.
His patience was gone.
“I love you!” Dante’s voice roared through the room, echoing like a wound torn open. “Don’t you fucking get that? I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you—and I love you now!”
She froze. Her body went stiff, heart racing. But then she looked into his eyes, and her expression turned icy.
“How can you say this to me now?” Her voice was disturbingly calm, but the chill in her tone made every word feel like a knife. “You walked out, Dante. You said you didn’t want to hear anything from me. That you wanted nothing to do with me. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Anya—”
“And you’re engaged, aren’t you?” She cut him off, her expression a mask of indifference. Her eyes narrowed with bitterness as she stepped back slightly, her body turning stiff. “To Ms. Carter? You already have a soon-to-be wife. So stop following me around and focus on getting to know your future bride. Don’t waste your time on me.”
Dante’s heart dropped at her words.
Anya wanted him to walk away. To let go of the idea of being with her—because he didn’t know she was the very girl he was engaged to. He didn’t want to marry Annie Carter anyway, so it wasn’t like he’d ever get to know about her identity as Annie until her family announces it.
But instead, a small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was taunting, almost as if he could see right through her. He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin, lowering his head until they were eye-to-eye. His voice softened, a dangerous glint in his gaze.
“You’re jealous?”
Her blood boiled. Anya shoved his hand off her arm roughly and glared at him.
‘He thinks I’m jealous? Would I be jealous of myself?’ she scoffed inwardly.
“Mr. Kingsley, I’m telling you this because you seem to have trouble understanding—I’m no longer your woman. That woman was someone else. Since you chose to walk out of my life, I refuse to be anyone’s mistress. Stop trying to talk to me or showing up in front of me.”
“I don’t have any relationship with that girl,” he said through clenched teeth, frustrated. “What the hell are you even talking about?”
“It doesn’t—”
“You don’t believe me?” he interrupted, a dangerous edge in his voice. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone. His fingers dialed without hesitation, his eyes never leaving hers. “Fine. I’ll call her right now. I’ll end it. I’ll reject her on the phone—in front of you. I won’t even wait to meet her. I’ll make it clear right now.”
Her heart stopped. Panic shot through her like an electric shock.
“No—there’s no need for that!” she blurted, her hand instinctively shooting out toward the phone, but it was too late. He was already dialing. The line rang.
In the same moment, Anya’s phone buzzed. Her heart skipped a beat. Dante’s contact name flashed across the screen.
Her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes widened in horror. She scrambled to pull her phone out of her bag, quickly hanging up the call. Her hands shook as she put the phone on silent, desperate to keep the secret from slipping out. She glanced at the screen—her battery was at one percent.
The second she ended the call, her phone blacked out completely, shutting off in her hands.
Dante glanced down at his phone, still unaware of the connection. He frowned as the call cut off. “She didn’t pick up,” he muttered. “But I’ll call again.”
“No, you won’t!” she shouted and snatched his phone, hurling it against the wall. The device hit hard, shattered, and fell to the ground in pieces.
Breathing heavily, Anya stood there, staring at him with fury burning in her eyes. Her chest rose and fell with each breath as she glared at him.
“I said I don’t want to hear it!” she screamed. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Dante finally met her eyes as her anger boiled over.
“Dante Kingsley, I don’t care what you do with your life,” she snapped, voice trembling with rage. “You and I? We’re over. What are you even pretending to do here?”