Chapter 10 - Alisa
I had never meant to kiss him. But honestly, it felt like the closest thing to safety that day. After I discovered my father was the one who let those criminals take me off the street outside his building just so he could barter me off later himself, my confidence fractured.
Wouldn’t anyone’s?
Luckily for me, my father didn’t succeed in his twisted plans. My whole life, I believed that being Alisa Montes made me somewhat untouchable. If anything ever went wrong, I had Papa to fall back on, and he’d make sure I stayed safe.
Well, now I knew I’d put my faith in the wrong person.
The man who kept the world safe no longer existed.
Maybe he’d been pretending all along to care about justice.
Or maybe he hadn’t, and I’d just focused on the good instead of all the ways he’d tried to mold me into the sweet little lamb he might someday need for his own grand plans.
So when Dante brought me back home and wordlessly held me while I cried, I realized something.
I thought Dante was the dangerous one, and in many ways, he was.
But he was the one who truly saved me from being sold off to monsters, while my father and his accomplices had been responsible for putting me on that stage.
If Dante hadn’t been there that day to get me off that stage, I couldn’t even imagine what would’ve become of me. Any dangerous man could have bought me. My father could have learned of the fuck-up my kidnappers made and voided the transaction, only to sell me off as a wife to some unknown people.
It seemed unreal, like this wasn’t my life. I knew that the only reason I wasn’t being forced to play wife to a stranger was because, for some reason, my father’s crew feared Dante Lebedev.
The only reason I was safe was Dante Lebedev.
And I, like a fool, leaned into that. I wanted to feel a glimmer of joy, like I used to back when we were together. That night on the couch, I kissed him to chase that same old, beautiful feeling just so I could feel like the world was okay again.
But I hadn’t expected him to pull away.
Hadn’t expected him to reject me with some vague lecture about head-clearing and boxing gloves.
I mean—what the hell?
He kissed me back. I felt it. That kiss wasn’t one-sided, not even close. So why was he acting like it never happened?
Days later, Dante still burned on my skin. I could still feel the crackle of heat from his lips against mine, and my toes still curled when I thought of it.
For those few seconds, I truly forgot all the bad in the world, that was, until he pulled away with some bullshit about boxing and clearing my head.
Who the hell rejects a woman, then offers her a punching bag as consolation?
“Goddamnit,” I groaned into my pillow, hating that I’d woken up with the same old talk in my head.
I threw myself at Dante fucking Lebedev, the same man who’d broken my heart four years ago, and ever since then, he had been avoiding me.
And I was tired of it.
Tired of tiptoeing around the truth between us. Tired of pretending I didn’t notice how his eyes lingered just a second too long, or how his breath hitched when we brushed against each other in tight hallways.
For the past three days, every time I saw him around the house and tried to make conversation, he’d rush off with something urgent to attend to.
At first, I thought nothing of it and truly believed it was just bad timing.
But then it became glaringly obvious yesterday afternoon, when I was reading in the living room.
He walked in, and I watched from the corner of my eye as he did a double take at the sight of me—then slinked out of the room so damn quietly, I knew he didn’t want to be seen.
If that wasn’t avoidance, I don’t know what is.
And honestly? It hurt.
Because I didn’t know where I stood with him or if he thought I’d been a mistake.
And I felt like an utter fool for thinking otherwise.
Was I supposed to forget that kiss?
Or was I supposed to believe I imagined all of it?
And since then, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. He broke my heart all those years ago, and only I knew the pain I felt in the months that followed. For a while, it felt impossible to forget him.
But I rode that wave of pain and made it through, only to end up at his house, living with him as his wife on paper. For a long time, I kept him at arm’s length, but somewhere along the way, the lines began to blur. He wasn’t innocent of that.
He was the one who started crossing those boundaries first, wasn’t he? Had I imagined that he was flirting with me all this time? Imagined the heat between us when he walked in on me in the changing room?
So why the hell did he back away from that kiss?
And more importantly, why wasn’t he saying anything now?
I stepped out of bed at last and downed a glass of cold water.
I hadn’t slept well last night, or any night, actually, since that kiss.
Enough was enough. I felt like I was done walking on eggshells, and one way or another, today was the day I would talk to Dante and get to the bottom of things.
If I didn’t, it’d mean another restless night of sleep.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I changed into leggings and a sports bra, and then put on a loose t-shirt. After I spoke to him, I planned to punch some shit because that was the only thing that helped nowadays. I guess Dante had been right about that.
I went to the dining room, thinking he’d be there having breakfast, but the maid told me he’d already eaten.
I went to his office. Empty. His car was still in the driveway, so I knew he hadn’t left for work yet.
I made my way through the library, checked out the pool, and did a whole scan of the garden before heading back in, making my way from room to room.
Where the hell was—?
And that’s when I heard the sound of grunts coming from the gym.
As I approached, I heard fists hitting leather.
I paused at the doorway, just buying time to think about what I was going to say.
And in that time, I forgot how to think because watching Dante made me lose all thought.
He pummeled a heavy bag with such force that it looked like something out of a boxing movie. Was it even possible for a man to be that beautiful? Each movement was controlled, his focus laser-sharp, and every punch sounded like music to my ears.
And then there was the sight of him. His knees bent just a bit as he kept that coiled stance, my eyes travelling down the angled muscles of his legs, stretching out below a pair of black shorts. Apart from that, he had on a white tank top that clung to his broad shoulders, damp with sweat.
I leaned against the doorframe and watched as he danced around the bag. He moved like a snake, fluid and elegant. He looked like he could kill, and not with his beauty alone.
And god, those muscles. As he worked, the tattoos seemed alive too, rippling over his muscles when he moved.
A bead of sweat traced a path down his spine. I found myself following its journey, and my mouth suddenly went dry.
His hair was slicked back with sweat, and his cheeks curved inward so tight, I could have traced the outline of his bones.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Heat pooled low in my belly, spreading outward until my skin felt tight.
I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly aware of how insane this was.
I’d seen attractive men before. I’d seen Dante before, for God’s sake.
But something about watching him like this made it hard to remember why I’d been so angry with him.
He turned again, and this time, his eyes locked with mine as he noticed me. He grabbed the punchbag and stilled it, watching me the whole time.
“How long have you been standing there?” he asked as he grabbed the towel out of the bag by his side and wiped his face.
“Not long,” I lied, straightening up. “I was just… I thought I’d work out.”
Now that I had him right in front of me, being all civil, I suddenly went straight back into coward territory. That whole conversation I had planned in my head just went up in smoke.
“Oh,” he nods, making a move to grab his stuff. “I’ll let you have the gym then.”
No. Oh no.
There he was, trying to avoid me again. But I was done feeling like an infectious disease. Even if I wasn’t prepared to talk to him straight-up, I wasn’t above twisting his arm a little.
I squared my shoulders, determined not to let him see how much he’d affected me. “You offered to teach me the day you brought me here, and I’d like to take you up on it.”
He frowned. “Now?”
“Is that a problem?” I asked, stepping fully into the gym.
“I mean, it looks like you’ve been doing a decent job figuring it out yourself.” He cleared his throat, and I saw it bob.
The space between us felt charged, dangerous. I forced myself to look away from the way his tank top clung to his chest, landing awkwardly instead on the equipment around us.
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Decent enough to get in some punches against a bag, but wouldn’t you want your wife to know how to defend herself? What if someone comes after me when you’re not around?”
Dante’s expression darkened. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
No. What I was worried about was the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss and how it calmed my heart. What I was worried about was how badly I wanted to fall back into him and to use him as an escape from the nightmare my father had turned my life into.
“I just think it’s practical,” I said instead. “Given how I’ve been kidnapped once before.”
I waited breathlessly while he studied me, thinking. Then, at last, he checked his watch, and that’s when I knew I’d won before he even said a word. “Alright. Let’s start with the basics.”
I followed him to a clear area in the center of the gym, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach when he turned to face me.
“First things first,” he said, all business now. “Stance is everything. Your feet need to be shoulder-width apart.”