10. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Evelyn
T he library's hushed sanctuary offers little solace today.
I trail my fingertips along the spines of the leather-bound books lining the shelves, trying in vain to lose myself in their well-worn ridges and faded gilt lettering. Normally, I find comfort in the weight of history cradled in my palms, a tangible connection to those who came before.
Not today, though.
Because no matter how deeply I immerse myself in my work, I can't escape the lingering specter of Dante Romano. Or the gaping wound his abrupt dismissal has torn open, leaving me feeling raw and exposed in ways I've never known.
"Hey, Evelyn?" Maggie's voice drifts across the quiet stillness, tinged with concern. "You've been staring at that same shelf for the last twenty minutes. Everything okay over there?"
The gentle inquiry jolts me from my aimless reverie. I turn to find my assistant curator watching me with a furrowed brow, her eyes swimming with worry behind her cat-eye frames.
Plastering on what I hope is a convincing smile, I give a dismissive shake of my head. "Just zoning out a bit, I guess. Sorry about that."
Judging by the dubious arch of Maggie's brow, my attempt at nonchalance isn't as convincing as I'd hoped. Undeterred, she sets aside the ancient manuscript she'd been cataloging and leans back in her chair, pinning me with a pointed look.
"What's got you so preoccupied you can barely focus on your precious books?"
A bitter pang lances through me at her gentle teasing. Books have always been my most treasured companions, but this time, the stories that have ensnared me are of the flesh and blood variety. Messy and unpredictable, fraught with complexities.
Unbidden, my thoughts drift back to Dante and how he'd stormed into my carefully curated world and upended everything, sending me hurtling down a rabbit hole of danger and adrenaline and...
...something else. Something deeper and more visceral than I have words to describe.
God, how I'd burned for him in those heated moments when nothing else mattered beyond the primal need to possess and be possessed in turn.
But those moments are gone now, extinguished by the impenetrable wall Dante erected between us, leaving me adrift in the churning wake of his abrupt dismissal.
With a sigh, Maggie pushes out of her chair and crosses the room to settle beside me on the antique chaise.
"Okay, that's it," she declares. "What's going on?”
Her gentle insistence is my undoing. The words come tumbling out in a breathless torrent before I can rein them in, starting with my kidnap in the parking lot and ending with my expulsion from Dante’s world. Maggie is nothing if not an excellent listener. She doesn't so much as bat an eyelash at the more sordid details, merely nodding along as I lay everything bare.
"...and then he just dismissed me." My voice cracks over the last words, the rawness of the wound still too fresh to dwell on for long. "Like I was just some... some disposable pawn in his twisted game. After everything."
There's a heavy pause as the weight of my confession hangs between us. Then, with a soft tsk , Maggie loops her arm through mine and gives a gentle, comforting squeeze.
"What a colossal ass," she murmurs, her tone a strange blend of sympathy and utter disdain.
A startled, watery laugh escapes my lips before I can rein it in. "You're telling me. And here I actually thought..."
Thought what? That the man who had essentially abducted me could be something more? That the dizzying heat that had blossomed between us meant anything beyond primal lust and adrenaline?
"Oh, honey." Maggie's voice softens with sympathy. " This Dante guy, as emotionally constipated as he seems, clearly cares for you. In his own misguided, overprotective way."
I open my mouth to protest, but she holds up a hand, cutting me off before I can even start.
"No, hear me out. Maybe pushing you away was just a twisted attempt at protecting you from the dangers of his world."
Her words give me pause, forcing me to consider the possibility that Dante's motivations, however flawed, might have stemmed from a desire to shield me. The thought is oddly reassuring, even as a tiny, stubborn part of me bristles at the idea.
"You think so?" I murmur, hating how small and uncertain I sound.
"I do," Maggie affirms with a decisive nod. "Not that it excuses his behavior, mind you. The man's still an emotionally stunted jackass for treating you that way." Her lips purse in distaste. "But I'd be willing to bet my favorite vintage Chanel that deep down, he's just as twisted up over this situation as you are."
Her pragmatic assessment settles over me like a soothing balm, and despite my anger, my heart lurches with a treacherous spark of hope. Perhaps there's still a chance to... what? To reconnect with him? Rekindle the thrilling connection that had burned so brightly between us before being so cruelly doused? The notion is as tantalizing as it is utterly absurd.
And yet...
The distant chime of the library's front entrance bells cuts through the stillness, signaling the arrival of a new patron. Maggie shoots me an apologetic grimace, already rising to her feet with a reluctant sigh.
"Duty calls, I'm afraid. But we're not done discussing this." She pins me with a stern look over the rim of her glasses. "I want regular updates on the shenanigans of one Dante Romano. And if he so much as looks at you sideways again, I'll be the first one marching over there to give him a piece of my mind."
A genuine smile tugs at the corners of my lips at her fierce protectiveness. "Duly noted. Now go, before that poor soul out there starts to think we've abandoned our posts."
Maggie shoots me one final meaningful look before sweeping out of the office, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
A few minutes later, the heavy thud of approaching footsteps snaps me from my introspective haze, my gaze whipping toward the office doorway. A tall, impeccably dressed figure strides into the room, his tailored suit and slicked-back hair radiating an aura of power and menace that sets my nerves instantly on edge.
"Ms. Hughes." The newcomer's voice is a low, silken purr as he regards me with hooded eyes. "What a pleasure to see you again."
"Mr. Valtieri." I force the name past lips that have inexplicably gone dry, my fingers tightening around the edge of the desk. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"
A smile curves his lips, revealing a flash of even, white teeth. "Merely extending a cordial greeting." His gaze rakes over me in an assessing sweep that leaves me feeling utterly exposed. "Though I must admit, I'm surprised to find you here alone. One would think after your... entanglements with the Romano clan, you'd be taking certain precautions."
Squaring my shoulders, I lift my chin in a show of composure I scarcely feel. "I don't require a protector, Mr. Valtieri. My associations are my own affair."
The words come out sounding far braver than I am in this moment. Marco's lips quirk upward in a sardonic half-smile, as if he can see the chinks in my armor as clear as day.
"Is that so?" He takes a measured step forward. "And tell me, have you sorted out the complexities of your particular associations? Are you quite sure you’re playing for the winning team?"
A flare of anger licks through me at his condescension. I open my mouth, a biting retort brewing on my tongue, when a new voice slices through the tension.
"I'd watch that forked tongue of yours if I were you, Valtieri."
The rich baritone sends a shock of awareness ricocheting through me. My head whips around just as Dante's powerful form strides into the room, his expression carved from granite.
Marco's head tilts in an almost mocking acknowledgment. "Romano. How predictable of you to come riding to the lady's rescue." His lips curl into a disdainful sneer. "Tell me, is this part of your latest game? Or have you deluded yourself into actually caring for the girl?"
"This is no game." The words emerge as a low rumble from deep within Dante's chest. "Ms. Hughes is under my protection, and any further interference will be met with consequences you'd be wise not to provoke."
Under his protection? My mind reels at the implications even as a part of me thrills at the unspoken promise laced through his tone.
"Is that so?" Marco arches one dark brow, his gaze cutting between Dante and me in a sweeping study. "Well, well. This is certainly an intriguing development." His expression is unreadable, but there's a strange glint in his eye as he inclines his head in a shallow nod. "I'll take my leave for now. But rest assured, Romano, we'll be revisiting this conversation soon enough."
With a final weighted look in my direction, Marco turns on his heel and strides from the room, leaving a heavy silence in his wake. For several heartbeats, Dante and I simply stand there, the weight of a thousand unspoken things hanging between us in the stillness.
"What..." I have to pause to wet my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. "What are you doing here?"
His jaw tightens fractionally before he lets out a slow exhale. "Evidently arriving just in time to prevent that snake from sinking his fangs in any deeper."
He crosses the space between us in two long strides, closing the distance until we're mere inches apart.
"I dismissed you." His deep voice is laced with an undercurrent of remorse. "I sent you away because I thought it was the only way to keep you safe. But I was a fool. You were never just a means to an end, Evelyn. From that first moment you challenged me, I..." He breaks off with a frustrated shake of his head. "I've never met anyone like you before. Someone who could slip past every one of my defenses and burrow their way into my very core without me even realizing it was happening."
This is a side of Dante I've never seen before—stripped bare of his armor, his emotions laid vulnerably open. I can only gape at him, utterly transfixed, as he reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdraws a slim bundle wrapped in oiled cloth.
"I told you I did not need you anymore because I couldn't fathom allowing anything to happen to you in my world." His fingers work deftly at the ties binding the cloth, unwrapping it to reveal a bundle of yellowed parchment pages. "But I was wrong. You've been an integral part of this from the start. Without your insights, your brilliance..." His gaze lifts to mine. "I never would have made it this far."
With painstaking care, he extends the bundle of documents toward me—an olive branch, a promise, and perhaps... something more.
My fingers tremble as they close around the aged parchment, the papers whispering against my skin with the weight of generations. This simple gesture bridges the chasm that had grown between us, allowing our worlds to collide and realign in a way that is both electrifying and utterly terrifying.
Dante's free hand lifts, his knuckles skimming my cheek in a feather-light caress. "I need you, Evelyn," he murmurs. "Not just as a partner in this quest, but as someone who forces me to confront the parts of myself I've kept locked away for far too long. Someone who makes me want to grasp onto life instead of merely existing in the shadows."
The breath stalls in my lungs as I gaze up at him, utterly spellbound. In that moment, the world around us seems to fall away until nothing is left but the heated charge crackling between our bodies.
Then Dante's mouth is on mine, slanting over my lips in a searing, breathtaking kiss. I sag against him as the papers flutter from my fingers, the last vestiges of resistance crumbling beneath the onslaught of pure sensation. His hands are everywhere, cradling my face, threading through my hair, searing paths of delicious friction wherever they roam.
When we finally break apart, I'm trembling and breathless, clinging to him as if he's the only anchor in a world that has abruptly been thrown off-kilter. Dante's forehead rests against mine, his ragged breaths mingling with my own in the scant space between us.
" Ti amo ," he rasps. "I'm done pushing you away, tesoro mio . This..." His fingers tighten almost desperately where they've tangled in the fabric of my blouse. "This is where you belong. With me."
My fingers trace the rugged line of his jaw, mapping every plane and contour. "And I'm not going anywhere," I murmur against his lips, sealing the promise with another scorching kiss.