CHAPTER 53: KIDNAPPED

Alisha woke up to a broad chest being presented right in front of her like a good morning gift.

The view was beautiful, almost unfairly so, but equally annoying. His skin, warm under the soft glow of the morning light, rose and fell steadily with every breath. His scent was clean, masculine, infuriatingly distracting, lingered around her.

After Dante had uninvitedly crashed into her room the previous night, she had been forced to share not just her room but her bed with him. The thought still irritated her. She had dreamt of spreading herself across the entire mattress, claiming every corner like she had planned, but instead, she’d spent the night bumping into his solid frame every time she rolled over.

When she had questioned his sudden arrival, he had the audacity to claim it was all to convince more people about their relationship. As though the media dictated her life. As though she should be grateful he was intruding.

Yes, she was a model and he was a businessman. Their schedules hardly gave them time to breathe, let alone be seen together. The truth was, most days they only crossed paths at night, exhausted from work. The media rarely got glimpses of them side by side, and in a world so hungry for scandal, old rumors threatened to resurface.

But Alisha couldn’t help but suspect Dante had been milking that excuse, using the public image argument to justify inserting himself into her personal space.

Her gaze slipped down again, lingering on his chest. Against her better judgment, her fingers moved on their own, tracing the defined lines of his skin. His body was firm—stone under silk—proof that he worked out every day, though she had never once caught him exercising.

Her index finger wandered lower, tracing the ridges of his abs. Her breath hitched.

She wanted to stop. She needed to stop. Dante was unpredictable. If he woke up and found her admiring him like some starstruck fool, he would never let her live it down. And yet, she continued, unable to pull away from the heat of his body.

He’s so big and muscular. He could crush her without even trying.

Her lips parted, and she licked them to wet her suddenly dry throat.

’Why am I getting attracted to this man today?’ she thought, flustered. ’Am I ovulating or something?’

Before she could scold herself further, a hand slid across her back, pulling her flush against his chest.

Alisha froze. Her wide eyes lifted—and found Dante’s dark, alert gaze already on her.

"Are you admiring me, my love?" His deep voice broke the silence, a teasing grin tugging at his lips.

Her stomach flipped violently.

"You know," he continued smoothly, "If you want to touch me, there are better ways to do it." His grin widened, his tone thick with mischief, as though he was savoring her discomfort.

Her eyes narrowed into slits.

"Don’t get your hopes so high, Mr. De Rossi. We’re not getting beyond kissing," she snapped.

Dante raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I was talking about waking me up with a morning kiss. What were you thinking about, my love?"

Heat rushed to her cheeks. "Stop calling me that," she gritted out, wriggling from his grasp. "I need to get ready for the commercial."

But Dante didn’t let go. His grip was steady, possessive.

"It’s only eight," he said casually, glancing at the wall clock. "The shoot doesn’t start until noon."

"I need to revise my lines, Dante."

"But you’re brilliant," he countered smoothly. "I know you’ll get them right in the first shot."

Her brow furrowed. ’What is wrong with this man? Did he drink before sunrise?’

"For now," Dante said, leaning closer, "Why don’t I teach you a better way to wake me up next time?"

Before Alisha could even process his words, he hovered over her, pressing her into the mattress. Her lips parted in shock. His face dipped closer, closer—he was going to kiss her.

Not today.

Her hand shot up, clamping tightly over her own mouth. She glared at him over her fingers, her other hand shoving against his chest.

He let her push him off too easily, which irritated her even more.

Alisha scrambled out of the bed, putting distance between them.

"You need to understand we don’t have to kiss all the time," she said, her voice sharp, her heart thundering in her chest. "And what is wrong with you? You didn’t even brush your teeth yet."

She scoffed and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Dante only chuckled, a smug grin playing on his lips.

He loved teasing her. Every reaction, every glare, every flustered retort—he lived for them. He could do it all day. But he knew if he wasn’t careful, one day she might actually aim a kick at his groin.

When they finally made it to breakfast, Dante hovered around her like a shadow. Alisha cursed under her breath, especially when she noticed the way the other women in the restaurant looked at him. Their eyes lingered, their expressions dreamy, as though they were ready to melt just from his presence.

He wasn’t even wearing his usual tailored suits today—just black khakis and a fitted shirt. Simple. Effortless. Yet somehow he still managed to command every pair of eyes in the room.

Alisha stiffened. She knew why they were staring—Dante was handsome. Devilishly so. But he was her husband. Couldn’t they at least show some respect?

Her glare swept over the girls like a blade. As though hearing her silent warning, they quickly tore their eyes away.

"You know," she muttered as she sat down, snatching the menu from the waiter, "You could’ve just stayed back at the office and actually gotten some work done."

Dante smiled, unbothered. "But I wanted to hang out with my wife. We don’t get to do this very often."

He had been smiling too much lately. Too soft. Too warm. And it made her chest tighten in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge.

She ignored him and placed her order.

After their meal, Dante’s phone buzzed with a call from Rico. He excused himself for a moment, then returned with a serious look.

"I need to head back to the office," he said, pressing a quick peck against her lips before she could move.

Her cheeks burned instantly. People had seen that. She forced a tight smile, refusing to let him see how flustered she felt.

Not long after he left, staff came to remind the models to prepare for the commercial shoot.

The hall was massive. Lights, cameras, speakers, props filling every corner. The director barked orders, determined to get everything right.

The first take failed. Then another. Hours stretched, retake after retake, until exhaustion weighed on everyone. By the time the director dismissed them with instructions to return the next day, more than five hours had passed.

Alisha’s body ached, but her mind remained sharp.

She could feel Katherine’s eyes on her throughout the day. She’d half expected Katherine to sabotage her like she had during Nix’s photoshoot. But oddly, Katherine hadn’t made a move.

Alisha was gathering her things to leave when a voice called out.

"Alisha."

She turned, unimpressed. Bethany.

"What do you want?" she asked curtly. The last thing she wanted was to waste her dwindling energy on the pink-haired woman.

Bethany fidgeted, fingers tugging at the hem of her dress. "I... I wanted to apologize. For everything. Maybe we could talk about it over dinner? There’s a restaurant nearby."

Alisha narrowed her eyes.

It was unusual. Bethany had never approached her like this—calm, almost sincere. Which only meant one thing—a setup, probably Katherine’s idea.

Still, curiosity itched at her.

Later that evening, she arrived at the restaurant cautiously, scanning every detail. She read the name of the place, smirk tugging at her lips.

A text pinged on her phone. It was Bethany asking for Alisha to meet her at the parking lot.

Either Bethany was new to plotting or too confident in her plan.

Even so, Alisha followed, the sunset casting an orange glow across the lot.

"Alisha, there you are." Bethany smiled brightly. "Sorry for making you come all the way out here."

"Just cut to the chase, Bethany. What do you want?" Alisha asked, hunger twisting her stomach. If this was going to be a waste of her time, she wanted it over quickly.

"I told you—I wanted to apologize," Bethany said smoothly.

Alisha scoffed. "Please. Drop the act. What do you really want?"

Bethany’s smirk returned, sharper now. "Well, I’m glad I don’t have to keep this charade much longer. Pretending to want peace with you was exhausting." She flipped her pink hair back with exaggerated flair. "I have someone who wants to see you."

Alisha’s brows furrowed.

Before she could react, a large hand gripped hers from behind, yanking her back.

A cloth pressed against her nose, the sharp scent of chemicals burning her lungs.

She thrashed, clawing at the iron grip, but her body weakened with each breath.

"You did well luring her here," the man behind her said.

"Of course," Bethany replied smugly. "Anything to get rid of a pest."

Those were the last words Alisha heard before darkness consumed her.

**

Meanwhile,

Dante checked his phone. 7 p.m.

It’s been two hours since Alisha had left to meet Bethany.

She’d told him beforehand because she had been suspicious. He had wanted to come with her, but she had refused, insisting she could handle it.

Now, not a single text. Not a call. Nothing.

Dante’s jaw tightened as he opened an app on his phone. He had secretly installed a tracker on her device long ago. He had hoped never to need it.

But tonight was different. Alisha was in danger.

Her location showed she was in a warehouse near a river. The same river where, a year ago, he’d found her in a bag on the brink of death.

He paled.