Chapter 29 #2
I swallow, a pit opening in my stomach. Wasn’t he just holding her hand, looking at her like she was the only person in the room? Did something change because Julianne showed up? Does he want her now? Am I just the stand-in, the woman he settled for?
The questions chase each other through my mind, and I can’t stop the doubts from creeping in.
I press a hand to my stomach, holding on to the only certainty I have, wishing that he’d look at me the way he looked at Julianne a moment ago.
That he’d reach for me, even if I can’t find the words yet for what’s really changed.
I crawl into bed, pulling the blankets over my head, trying to smother the ache inside me.
My pillow is cold and damp by the time I finally drift off, silent tears soaking the sheets.
I don’t hear Dante come in. I wonder where he is, if he’s even coming back, if he’s somewhere with Julianne instead.
His words replay in my mind: I can never love you.
I should have believed him. I curl up smaller, wishing the ache away.
When I finally do sleep, it’s shallow and uneasy. I wake to the sound of fists pounding against the front door, making my heart lurch.
For a moment I’m disoriented, blinking against the gray morning light. I grab a robe and hurry out of the bedroom, fear curling tight in my chest.
When I open the door, I see Dante and Oleg already out in the hallway. They stand shoulder to shoulder, tense, blocking the entrance to the apartment. My father stands opposite them, flanked by two of his men—both silent, watching everything with hard, watchful eyes.
Dante doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. He lifts his gun, steady, eyes hard as he stares down my father. “I won’t hesitate to kill you,” he says, voice low and deadly. “Not if you try to take her by force.”
My father’s jaw clenches, nostrils flaring. “You dare threaten to spill Petrov blood? The city will bay for your blood, Volkov. You’ll start a war you can’t finish.”
Dante just cocks the gun, the sound echoing in the hallway. “Want to find out?” His voice doesn’t shake. He means every word.
Oleg shifts, ready to back him up. Julianne buries her face in my shoulder, sobbing quietly, while I stand frozen.
My father studies Dante for a long, tense moment, his lips pressed in a thin line. Finally, he lowers his chin in surrender. “Fine. Have it your way. But you’ll regret this, all of you. Soon.”
The threat lingers like a storm cloud as he turns and stalks away, his men falling in behind him. For a moment, all I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears.
Dante slips his gun back into his jacket and goes straight to Julianne, his tone gentle, protective. “Are you okay?”
To my surprise, Julianne pulls away from me and moves into his arms, hugging him tightly.
He lets her, holding her just long enough for her breathing to calm.
I stand frozen, awkward, my hands suddenly useless at my sides.
I catch my reflection in the hallway mirror—my rumpled robe, my hair wild, my face drawn and pale.
I see just how plain I look, and I feel something wilt inside me.
Without a word, I start to turn away, desperate for a moment alone.
“Adriana,” Dante calls, his voice cutting through the fog. I stop. He’s watching me, unreadable. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”
He leads me to our room. I move to the little drawer where I tucked away the pregnancy test, but when I turn, Dante is standing much too close, his eyes searching mine with a fierce intensity.
He doesn’t waste time. “Did you tell your parents about Julianne?”
My eyes widen in shock. “Of course not.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he snaps, his voice rough, his jaw tight with anger I don’t understand.
Tears sting my eyes, and I shake my head. “I swear I didn’t. Why are you doing this? Why do you look at me like I’m the enemy?”
My hands tremble as I clutch the edge of the dresser, aching for him to see how scared I am, how much I need him to believe me. “I don’t understand, Dante. I don’t understand any of this…”
Tears slip down my cheeks before I can stop them. I’m suddenly aware of how tired I am, how all the fear and worry and hope I’ve carried for days has worn me down to nothing. I press my fist to my mouth, fighting to steady my breath.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper again when he doesn’t reply, voice barely more than a gasp.
Dante’s face is tight, but something flickers in his eyes—regret, maybe, or guilt. I can’t tell. He steps closer, and I flinch, wiping at my cheeks, desperate not to fall apart completely in front of him.
“Maybe trusting you was my mistake,” he says, his voice flat and cutting. “Every time I let my guard down, someone gets hurt. Maybe you’re just like everyone else—looking out for yourself, saying whatever you need to survive.”
His words hit like a slap. I flinch, pressing a hand to my chest as if I can hold my heart together. “That’s not fair,” I whisper. “You know it isn’t. I’ve given up everything for you. I’ve tried—”
He shakes his head, not letting me finish. “Don’t cry. Don’t pretend you’re the victim in this. If you brought danger into my house, I’ll never forgive you. And if you’re lying to me now, Adriana, you’ll regret it.”
My legs go weak. I sink onto the edge of the bed, sobs escaping before I can stop them. It’s not just what he said, it’s the look in his eyes, cold and distant, as if I’m nothing to him at all.
My voice breaks through the silence before I can stop myself. “Is this about my father or Julianne?”
Dante stops with his hand on the door, shoulders tense. He turns back, his eyes colder than I’ve ever seen. “I can’t believe you would say that,” he says, each word slow and heavy. “Weren’t you supposed to be your sister’s protector? Isn’t that what you told me, over and over?”
The words sting worse than any slap.
Before I can answer, before I can even breathe, he turns away, pulls the door open, and walks out, leaving me alone, my heart shattered, the silence closing in around me like a fist.