CHAPTER 82: UNDENIABLE FEELINGS

The security guards immediately forced the raging crowd back, shoving bodies toward the exit as the guests murmured in shock. A few of the angriest were caught and restrained for the damage they had caused, their screams echoing through the hall as they were dragged away.

From her corner, Katherine watched the chaos with her arms folded, her painted lips curling into a dark smile. Satisfaction surged through her chest like fire. At last, one of her schemes against Alisha had landed.

Meanwhile, Alisha followed Dante out of the main hall in silence. His grip on her hand was firm, protective, but her mind buzzed with questions.

Dante didn’t pause until they reached the upper floors of the building. He moved as though he already knew his way around, his strides purposeful. Without hesitation, he pushed open the door to a suite.

It was lavish, warm light bouncing off marble floors and muted gold décor. The faint scent of cologne and leather hung in the air. It wasn’t surprising—this was a hotel after all.

Her brows drew together. "How long have you been here?" she asked at last, her voice breaking the heavy silence.

"Just now," he replied, moving toward the bathroom without looking at her. "I arrived minutes ago. I knew you’d be tired after the show, and home is a two-hour ride. I thought... we could stay here tonight."

Her heart skipped. We.

She suddenly recalled the way her body had betrayed her when he’d bitten her. The heat that had consumed her, the electricity she’d tried so desperately to bury.

She shook her head, trying to force the memories away, only for her gaze to fall to her arm. The cut was deeper than she’d thought, blood still seeping slowly from the wound.

Dante returned with a towel dampened in hot water. His expression softened slightly when his eyes met hers. "Sit," he instructed.

She obeyed, lowering herself onto the bed. He knelt before her, pressing the towel gently against the wound.

"There’s no first aid kit here, but I’ve already told Rico to bring one over. He’ll be here soon," he explained, his tone efficient, but his hands careful.

Alisha hissed at the sting, biting down on her tongue to keep from crying out. Still, this pain was small compared to what was coming once the wound was cleaned properly.

She inhaled sharply, focusing on steadying her breath. Dante adjusted his pressure, his movements growing gentler as though he could feel her discomfort.

From her angle, with his head bent low, she noticed details she often ignored—the length of his lashes, the way his brows furrowed with concentration, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. He handled her like she was a porcelain doll.

His voice broke through her thoughts, low but firm. "Next time, don’t get so close to a raging crowd, even if they demand to see you. You should’ve known all they wanted was to hurt you. What if I hadn’t been there? They could’ve done worse."

Alisha rolled her eyes, trying to mask the sudden warmth in her chest. "I can fight, you know," she said, her tone defiant.

Dante lifted his head slowly, his eyes meeting hers. His expression was unreadable, blank in a way that unsettled her. He blinked once before lowering his gaze again.

"That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take care of yourself," he replied quietly. "I won’t always be there, Alisha."

The words struck harder than she expected.

Her throat tightened as something unspoken shifted in her chest. He was always there—pulling her out of danger, shielding her, saving her. She had grown used to it, maybe too used to it. Without realizing it, she had come to expect him in the shadows, ready to step in whenever her world began to fall apart.

She pulled her hand away abruptly, pressing it to her chest. "You can stop now. I’m not bleeding anymore." Her voice was thin, almost shaky, as she stood from the bed.

Dante’s eyes narrowed slightly. He straightened but didn’t move, confusion flickering across his features.

’Did I say something wrong?’ he wondered.

Alisha’s heart pounded wildly, her palms damp as she tried to ground herself. She hated how easily his words rattled her.

They’d never gone all the way, but intimacy had existed between them in moments she couldn’t dismiss. And now, with him kneeling before her, with his voice laced in something that sounded too much like care, she couldn’t brush it aside. Not this time.

Her lips trembled before the words spilled out. "You promised you’d find me no matter where I was," she whispered. Her voice broke, forcing her to crane her neck to hold his gaze as he rose to his full, towering height. Even in her four-inch heels, he loomed over her. "You promised. So what do you mean you won’t always be there?"

"Eva..." His voice softened to velvet, and her chest squeezed painfully.

He only ever called her by her real name when they were alone. It was a habit she had only recently begun to notice, but every time he said it, it melted something she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them. She blinked rapidly, startled by the sudden sting.

’Is it that time of the month? Why am I being so sensitive tonight?’ She thought frantically, swiping them away with the back of her hand.

"It’s nothing. Forget it," she muttered, retreating two steps to create space, but her heart still thrashed violently in her chest.

"No," Dante said firmly. "Not this time. I’ll always find you, Eva. I promised, and I keep my promises." His gaze locked on hers, burning with intensity. "But tell me... are we still going to ignore what we feel for each other?"

Her breath caught. She turned away, unable to hold his eyes.

"I don’t feel anything for you," she snapped, the lie sour on her tongue. "This is just a contract. Nothing more."

But the tears betrayed her, sliding down her cheeks no matter how fiercely she tried to blink them back.

"Once we’ve achieved our goals, we’ll get a divorce," she whispered, almost choking on the word.

Divorce.

The word hit Dante like a blade. It was the first time she had said it out loud, the first time she had dared to frame their ending so neatly.

His jaw tightened. He closed the gap between them in a single stride, and Alisha instinctively stepped back. But her retreat ended quickly as the wall pressed into her spine.

Dante raised a hand, pinching her chin firmly and tilting her face upward. His eyes darkened, his features shadowed in a way that made him look almost dangerous.

"Do you really think I’ll consent to a divorce?" His voice was low, a warning wrapped in silk.

Her lips trembled beneath his grip. She bit down on them, but the motion only drew his gaze lower. His eyes lingered, hungry, the tension between them taut as a wire ready to snap.

"Well, you’ll have to," she whispered back, her voice shaking even as she forced the words out. "You’ll have to."

"Is that so?" His voice deepened, a dangerous edge coating every syllable. His eyes never left her lips. "Then you won’t have a problem with this, will you?"

Before she could form a reply, his hand slipped behind her head, steadying her. His lips descended, capturing hers in a kiss that was fierce, unyielding, and yet devastatingly passionate.

The world around them vanished, leaving only the heat of his mouth, the press of his body, and the terrifying realization that no matter how hard she tried to deny it, she felt everything.