Chapter 23
Harlow
Over the past few days, we've settled into an unspoken routine. Every night, Dante sleeps in our bed. We don’t acknowledge it, don’t talk about it, just go through the motions like it’s always been this way. I take my shower, he takes his, and then we slip into bed in silence.
We don’t touch. Not at first. But somehow, by morning, we always end up tangled together.
More often than not, I wake to an empty bed. But today, as my eyes flutter open, I feel him, his warmth seeping into me, a heavy arm draped around my waist, his body moulded against mine. His breath is slow, steady, his chest rising and falling in sync with mine. And lower, his cock is thick and hard against the curve of my ass, the heat of it searing through the thin barrier of fabric.
I should move.
But instead, I shift, just enough to feel him, to tease myself with the weight of it. Dante exhales a low, guttural sound, his grip tightening, fingers flexing against my waist. His hips roll forward, pressing his cock against me with unmistakable intent. My breath hitches, my thighs clenching in response.
“Good morning,”
He murmurs, voice rough from sleep. Amusement lingers beneath the rasp of his words.
I let out a slow breath, forcing my tone flat.
“Don’t get any ideas.”
He makes a low sound.
“Too late for that, Leonessa.”
I shove his arm off me and sit up, ignoring the way my skin feels overheated. Sliding my legs out of bed, I stand, the hem of my silk nightgown brushing mid-thigh. I turn to face him, and immediately, I catch his eyes raking over my body, starting at my bare legs, trailing up, lingering on my chest, where my nipples are taut against the fabric. His smirk is slow, laced with something undeniably smug. Of course, Dante doesn’t let it go unnoticed.
Amusement drips from his voice as he drawls.
“Your body speaks a different language than your mouth, leonessa.”
I shoot him a withering glare, but he only looks more pleased with himself, dark eyes gleaming with that insufferable, lazy confidence. Exhaling sharply, I turn on my heel and stride toward the bathroom, shutting the door with more force than necessary. This is unacceptable. He affects me far too much, and I refuse to grant him that power.
By the time I step out of the shower, steam curling around me, I grab a towel and wrap it snugly around my body. The warmth lingers on my skin as I reach for my robe, slipping it on before making my way to the door.
As soon as I pull it open to exit, I step forward, only to collide with an unyielding wall of muscle.
I inhale sharply, my breath catching as firm hands steady me, the heat of his touch searing through the fabric of my robe.
When I lift my gaze, I find Dante standing there, broad and immovable, effortlessly commanding the space as if it belongs to him. The air between us is thick with his presence.
My hand instinctively presses against my chest as I arch a brow, fixing him with an unimpressed look.
“Lurking outside my door, now? How very predictable. Tell me, is this your latest extravagance, or have you simply run out of ways to entertain yourself?”
His lips curve, slow and insufferable. He doesn’t answer, just watches me with dark eyes gleaming with amusement. He’s still only in his boxer briefs, unapologetically at ease with himself, muscles flexing as he leans casually against the doorway, blocking my path.
I exhale sharply.
“Do you mind?”
Dante doesn’t move. He stays right where he is, making it very clear that if I want to leave, I’ll have to go through him.
Fine.
Lifting my chin, I step forward, bending just enough to slip under his arm, my shoulder brushing against his chest as I squeeze past. A low chuckle follows behind me, and a second later, I hear the quiet click of the bathroom door closing.
I shake my head, exhaling as I force my focus forward, heading straight for the closet.
Pulling open the doors, I scan my options, fingers grazing over the collection of neatly arranged swimsuits. It’s Sunday, and against all odds, we managed to persuade Dante to take the day off. Well, Mattia did. He’s been relentless in his requests to take the yacht out on the water, wearing Dante down with unwavering persistence until, at last, he relented. I reach for a red two piece, sexy, but not too revealing. While I don’t mind pushing Dante’s buttons, this isn’t about that. This is family time.
The thought persists, heavier than it should.
Family.
It’s unsettling to realize that’s what we are.
I brush the feeling aside, slipping into the swimsuit before layering a light, summery dress over it. Grabbing a wide brimmed hat, I toss a few essentials into a beach bag.
By the time I’m finished, the shower is still running, the steady stream of water filling the quiet space. I slip into a pair of sandals, fastening the delicate strap around my ankle before making my way out of the bedroom, heading toward Mattia’s suite.
Knocking lightly, I wait, listening as a muffled voice drifts through the door.
“Five more minutes.”
I push the door open, stepping inside to find Mattia sprawled across his bed, tangled in a mess of blankets and pillows. The curtains remain drawn, shrouding the room in artificial night, untouched by the morning light.
I arch a brow, smirking.
“Don’t tell me you forgot, we’re taking the yacht out today.”
That gets him moving. He bolts upright so abruptly that even I feel momentarily unsteady.
“I didn’t!”
Still tangled in his blankets, he scrambles to his feet, a flurry of fabric shifting around him. With a sudden leap, he lands on the floor with a heavy thud, grinning at me, excitement lighting up his face.
I let out a soft laugh, stepping back toward the door.
“I’ll be downstairs.”
He’s already rushing past me toward the bathroom, and I call after him.
“Hurry up.”
As I make my way to the kitchen, I find Bianca already in motion, gracefully arranging breakfast trays. She glances up as I enter, offering a warm, familiar smile.
“Buongiorno, Signora Salvatore,”
Bianca greets me with practiced poise.
“Shall I have breakfast served in the dining room?”
“Good morning,”
I reply warmly.
“We’ll take it on the terrace, please.”
She nods in understanding, seamlessly gathering what’s needed, while I step outside, allowing the morning warmth to envelop me. The sun is still gentle, casting a golden glow across the estate, its heat not yet overbearing. A soft breeze whispers through the trees, rustling the leaves with a quiet elegance.
I lower myself into a chair at the terrace table, tilting my face toward the sky, closing my eyes as I savour the moment, the tranquil hum of nature, the distant melody of birdsong, the intoxicating scent of summer lingering in the air.
A shadow drifts over me, casting a fleeting respite from the morning sun. I open my eyes to find Dante standing above me, his gaze intent, assessing.
He says nothing at first, merely pulls out the chair across from me and sinks into it composed as always.
Soon, maids appear with trays, setting down breakfast. A cappuccino for me, espresso for Dante. Fresh fruit, croissants, juice for Mattia. When they leave, silence lingers between us for a beat too long.
I meet Dante’s gaze.
“Why do I feel like you're still regretting saying yes to this?”
His lips twitch.
“Because I am.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
He lifts his cup, sipping his espresso, eyes never leaving mine.
“And you’re so demanding.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Because I encouraged your son to have one day of fun?”
“Because you don’t know when to stop pushing.”
His voice is smooth, but there’s something else beneath it.
“It’s almost like you enjoy getting under my skin, leonessa.”
I exhale, feigning exasperation.
“Please. If anything, you enjoy it far more than I do.”
His lips curve, slow and knowing.
“That would be accurate.”
It’s moments like these that confuse me the most. One second, we’re at each other’s throats, barely suppressing the urge to tear one another apart, and the next, we’re exchanging words like normal people. The tension between us is unpredictable, shifting between aggravation and something else entirely.
Before I can come up with a retort, Mattia bursts outside, his excitement nearly tangible. Practically vibrating with energy, he drops into his seat, snatching up his juice with a grin that stretches wide across his face. It’s good to see him like this.
“You’re eating before we leave.”
Dante instructs, his tone leaving no room for argument as he nudges a plate toward Mattia.
With a dramatic groan, he slumps back in his chair but ultimately gives in, begrudgingly reaching for a croissant.
“Okay, va bene.”
He mutters before taking a bite.
As we eat, I catch Dante’s gaze more than once, brief glances stolen across the table, subtle yet charged. It’s an unspoken game, neither of us willing to acknowledge it, yet neither of us entirely looking away.
I watch as he interacts with Mattia, the way his sharp edges soften just enough when he speaks to his son. It’s not overt, Dante Salvatore does not coddle, but there’s a quiet steadiness in the way he ensures Mattia eats, the way he listens to his rambling excitement about the yacht. And against my better judgment, something in my chest tightens.
After breakfast, we gather our things. Mattia is practically bouncing as he drags me toward the car, his energy contagious. Dante follows behind, sunglasses perched on his face, his presence effortlessly commanding despite his casual attire, he’s wearing shorts and a button down, still managing to look infuriatingly good.
The drive to the marina is quick. Within minutes, we’re boarding the yacht, a sleek, luxurious vessel cutting through the morning light.
Dante takes the wheel.
The water stretches endlessly before us, a brilliant shade of blue against the cloudless sky. I lean back against my seat, the sea breeze tangling through my hair, exhaling slowly.
I have to admit, this was a good idea.
“I told you.”
Mattia says smugly, as if reading my mind.
Dante chuckles from where he stands at the helm.
“Enjoying yourself, leonessa?”
I shrug. “Not bad.”
His lips curve slightly.
And for a moment, I let myself exist in the peace of it. I don’t think about the family I never wanted but somehow found. I don’t think about the arranged marriage that bound me to a stranger, or the ominous notes, the blood, the shadow that follows me everywhere I go.
I haven’t received any more messages from him. No cryptic notes, no warnings left in my path. But I know better than to believe he’s gone. Silence is just another game, another way to make me lower my guard.
I push the thought away for now.
I simply allow myself to be present, to enjoy this stolen moment with Mattia. And, if I’m honest, with my husband as well, though I fight every instinct that tells me to reject whatever is growing between us.
But that’s the thing about the wounded, we build walls not out of defiance, but out of survival.
Being abandoned by my father, losing my mother in every way that mattered, growing up knowing that neither of them wanted me, how does a child unlearn that? Even as an adult, it lingers, whispering that love is temporary, that people always leave.
And if I let myself love them what happens when they disappear too? When they leave, as everyone always does?
A little while later, I slip out of my sundress, letting it fall away to reveal the bikini underneath. The sun immediately kisses my bare skin, warm and indulgent.
I don’t have to look up to know Dante is watching.
I feel his gaze, heavy and unrelenting, searing into me like a brand. He has a way of looking at me as if the world around us ceases to exist, as if nothing else holds his attention but the way my body moves.
When I finally glance his way, his eyes are raking over every inch of my exposed skin, lingering at the curve of my waist, the swell of my breasts. His jaw clenches, and his fingers tighten around the wheel.
I pretend not to notice.
Mattia is already at the edge of the yacht, eager to jump in as Dante slows the vessel to a stop. We’ve drifted far from shore, settling in a secluded stretch of water, accessible for yachts. The sea stretches endlessly around us, shimmering under the sun.
With ease, Dante anchors the yacht, securing it so we won’t drift.
Mattia is poised to dive into the water, but I stop him with a call.
“Come here first. You need more sunscreen.”
As expected, he groans but complies, making his way over with obvious reluctance. He stops in front of me, arms crossed, the very picture of a child bracing for an ordeal.
I arch a brow.
“Would you prefer a sunburn instead?”
With an exaggerated sigh, he all but collapses onto the sunbed beside me.
“If I must.”
I squeeze sunscreen into my palm and rub it over his arms and shoulders, working it into his skin as efficiently as possible before he wriggles away. “Hat on.”
I remind him, placing it back on his head.
He huffs but doesn’t argue, adjusting it before running back toward the water.
“Watch this!”
he calls, diving in, sending a splash of seawater across the deck.
When I look up, Dante is watching me.
Intently.
Something about the way his gaze lingers is unsettling, so I turn away, stretching out beneath the sun, letting the warmth seep into my skin. The ocean air is thick with salt, the steady lapping of water against the yacht a soothing rhythm.
I close my eyes, enjoying the moment.
A sudden splash breaks through the quiet. Cold water sprays over my stomach and legs, shocking a gasp from my lips. My eyes snap open just in time to see Dante surfacing from the water, running a hand through his dark, wet hair as he smirks up at me.
“You did that on purpose!”
I accuse, sitting up abruptly, a shiver running through me as the cold water clings to my skin.
Dante’s smirk is slow and wicked in its intent.
“You looked like you were getting far too comfortable, leonessa.”
His voice is smooth, laced with something dark, almost cruel, like he enjoys unsettling me.
“Consider it a favour.”
Mattia cackles as he swims around the yacht, and I shake my head, muttering under my breath as I stretch back out.
Minutes pass as I bask in the sun, listening to the laughter and the rhythmic splashing of water. I’ve never seen this side of Dante, unguarded, entirely present. He’s always ruthless, composed, bound by the weight of his world. But here, in the water with his son, he’s different.
Warmer. Lighter.
And it does something to me.
I exhale slowly, reaching for my bag as the heat settles deeper into my skin. Without looking up, I call out.
“Come here, Mattia. You need another layer.”
He groans loudly but swims over, climbing onto the deck again. He flops onto the sunbed like it’s an immense inconvenience, but he lets me rub more lotion over his arms and back.
Once I’m done, I glance up, and find Dante watching us again.
He’s out of the water now, standing at the edge of the deck, seawater still clinging to his skin, dripping down the rigid planes of his stomach. He’s wearing his swim shorts, his body golden and glistening under the sun, droplets catching against the hard lines of muscle.
Heat pools low in my stomach. I swallow, trying to tamp down the rush of something dangerous.
“You should put some on too.”
I say, keeping my tone casual as I extend the bottle toward him.
Dante doesn’t take it. Instead, he holds my gaze, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Do it for me.”
I hesitate for a second before getting up and stepping toward him. I hear another splash as Mattia dives back into the water, his laughter ringing through the open air.
Dante doesn’t move as I press my palms to his skin. My hands glide over his shoulders, down his arms, smoothing sunscreen over the firm ridges of muscle. He’s solid beneath my touch, radiating warmth, his skin tinged with salt.
I swallow hard.
We’re too close.
His scent mixed with the smell of sea and sun wraps around me, making my pulse unsteady. This feels intimate.
My voice barely comes out when I whisper.
“Turn around.”
Dante obeys, shifting so I can smooth lotion across his back, my hands moving over his broad shoulders, down his spine.
“All done.”
I murmur, stepping back.
Dante turns to face me, his expression hard to decipher. He extends a hand wordlessly.
I place the bottle into his palm before turning away, reclining onto my stomach to bask in the sun once more.
A moment later, I sense him.
Dante sits beside me, close enough that our skin touches. His palm settles against my back, fingers gliding along my spine as he spreads the lotion over my bare skin, touch maddeningly smooth.
All of a sudden a sharp smack lands on my ass.
I gasp, spinning around. “Dante!”
He doesn’t look apologetic. If anything, he looks pleased.
“Had to make sure it was all rubbed in.”
He says, smirking.
I glare at him, but my skin tingles where he touched me. My pussy clenches, a pulse of need rushing through me.
He chuckles darkly and leans back onto his stomach beside me, stretching out as if nothing happened. Silence settles between us for a while, the only sounds being the waves and Mattia’s laughter in the water.
After a few minutes, Dante stands and retrieves his laptop, settling into a shaded spot on the yacht. I close my eyes again, letting the warmth lull me into a hazy relaxation.
“Harlow, come on!”
Mattia calls from the water, his voice brimming with excitement. “Jump in!”
I lazily crack one eye open.
“No, I’m perfectly fine right here.”
Dante glances up from his laptop, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
“You haven’t so much as dipped a toe in the water.”
I wave him off dismissively.
“It’s unnecessary. I’m quite content as I am.”
He closes his laptop, leaning forward, his gaze settling on me with interest. There’s mischief flickering in his dark eyes, something unsettlingly smug.
I tense.
“Don’t you dare say it.”
His smirk deepens, slow and taunting.
“You don’t know how to swim.”
Mattia gasps, eyes wide with disbelief, as if I’ve just committed the gravest sin imaginable.
“Wait—you don’t?!”
I exhale sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Just let it be.”
Dante studies me, his gaze glinting with something indecipherable. Then, without a word, he rises to his feet, extending a hand toward me. “Come.”
I shake my head immediately, inching back.
“No, no, absolutely not.”
Before I can react, his hand closes around mine.
“Dante, no!”
I try to dig my heels in, but he’s already pulling me toward the edge, his grip strong and unwavering.
“Relax, Leonessa.”
His voice is smooth, coaxing.
“I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
Before I can fully process what’s happening, his arms are around me, strong, unyielding, and the world tilts as he effortlessly lifts me off my feet.
A startled gasp escapes my lips as I grasp at his shoulders, but it’s useless. Dante moves with purpose, his grip firm, as he carries me straight toward the water.