20. CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY
Alina
The drive up the mountain felt like entering another world. The city lights faded behind them, replaced by winding roads, towering pines, and the kind of silence that felt intentional—like the world itself was holding its breath.
When the SUV turned through the iron gates, Alina’s jaw dropped.
Calling it a mansion was an understatement.
It was a fortress disguised as a luxury estate—stone walls, tall windows, balconies overlooking the valley, and enough security cameras to film a reality show titled Please Don’t Kidnap Me Again.
She blinked. “This is… your house?”
Dante glanced at her. “One of them.”
She stared. “One of—? You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.”
He almost smiled. Almost.
The SUV stopped at the front steps. Guards were already waiting—silent, disciplined, eyes sharp. They nodded to Dante with a respect that bordered on reverence.
Alina swallowed. This wasn’t a house. This was a kingdom, and Dante was its king.
He stepped out first, then offered his hand to her. She hesitated—because touching him was becoming a serious problem—but she took it anyway. His fingers closed around hers, warm and steady. Her heart did something stupid. Again.
The foyer was a monument to the ridiculous.
Her eyes slid across the marble floors, up a staircase that swept toward the ceiling like something out of a palace, and landed on a chandelier dripping with enough crystal to pay off her student loans twice over.
Against the far wall, a fireplace yawned, vast and dark.
She whispered, “This is not real.”
Dante’s voice was low behind her. “It’s real.”
“Are you sure? Because I feel like I’ve wandered onto a movie set about morally bankrupt billionaires. Am I supposed to mingle?”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t think I will,” she said. “I’m still processing the fact that your driveway is longer than my entire apartment building.”
He stepped closer, his presence warm at her back. “You’re safe here,” he said softly.
Her breath caught. She hated how much that mattered.
He gave her space to wander, but he didn’t go far. He stayed within sight—leaning against doorframes, watching her with that unreadable expression that made her stomach twist.
She walked through the living room, the kitchen, the library (yes, he had a library), and a hallway lined with paintings that looked expensive enough to have their own insurance policies.
Do not be impressed, her brain warned.
We are extremely impressed, her heart counter-argued.
She muttered under her breath, “Shut up.”
Dante raised a brow. “Talking to yourself?”
“Therapeutic,” she said. “Highly recommend.”
He smirked—a small, rare thing—and she felt it like a spark under her skin. She hated that too.
They reached the balcony overlooking the valley. The sun was setting, painting the sky in gold and rose. Alina leaned on the railing, taking in the view. “Okay… this part I like.”
Dante stood beside her, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the horizon. “You’ll have your own room,” he said. “Across from mine.”
Her pulse jumped. “Across?”
“Yes.”
“Not… next to?”
His eyes flicked to hers. “If it were next to mine, you wouldn’t sleep.”
Her breath hitched. He didn’t look away. Neither did she. The air between them tightened—warm, electric, dangerous.
She swallowed. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Looking at me like you’re trying not to touch me.”
His jaw flexed. “I’m not trying.”
“Oh.”
He stepped closer—slow, deliberate—until his body brushed hers, just barely, just enough to make her heart stutter. “You’re safe here,” he murmured again, voice low. “But that doesn’t mean you’re safe from me.”
Her breath caught. “Dante…”
He leaned in—not touching her, not kissing her, just close enough that she felt the heat of him.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said softly.
“I’m not,” she whispered.
“You are,” he said. “But not of me.”
She looked away, heart pounding. “I should finish exploring.”
He stepped back, giving her space. But his eyes stayed on her, watching her the way a flame watches a moth—patient, certain, already knowing exactly how it ends. And she felt every single second of it.
Her room was bigger than her entire apartment. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door.
Do not fall for him, her brain commanded.
Too late, said the part of her that had already memorized the way he laughed.
She groaned into her hands. “This is a disaster.”
A soft knock came at the door. Her breath froze.
“Alina,” Dante said quietly through the wood. “If you need anything… I’m right across the hall.”
She closed her eyes. That was exactly the problem.