The soft hum of the central air conditioning filled the silence in Dante's opulent bedroom. The city skyline shimmered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft silver glow across the dark marble floors. Anastasia stood by the edge of the bed, her arms folded tightly beneath her chest as she heard the low creak of the closet door opening.
Dante emerged from the walk-in closet, now dressed in loose black pajama pants, the waistband sitting low on his hips. His sculpted chest remained bare, droplets of water still clinging to his skin like beads of light, gliding over the ridges of defined muscle. He ran a hand through his damp hair, brushing it back as he caught her staring.
"What was Camille doing in your room?" Her voice was quiet but sharp, cutting through the silence like the edge of a blade.
Dante paused mid-step, raising a brow as he met her gaze. "Are you jealous?"
