Ava thought she had learned to read Dante's moods
—the warmth in his eyes when he touched her , steel in his voice when he made a promise. But tonight, something darker lingered beneath his gaze, something that blurred the line between love and possession.
The mansion was unusually quiet that night. The hallways, often echoing with the steady movements of guards or the low murmur of staff, seemed hushed, waiting. Ava felt it in her bones as she stepped out of the shower, the cool silk of her robe clinging to her damp skin.
She had barely fastened the tie around her waist when she heard it—the slow, deliberate sound of shoes against the polished marble floor. Dante never rushed his steps. He didn't need to. The whole world seemed to bend and wait for him, even the silence.
Ava's breath quickened when the bedroom door opened.
He filled the doorway like a shadow and a flame all at once—broad shoulders, dark tailored suit, eyes that seemed to see too much. He hadn't been home all day. She'd told herself she didn't care, that she wouldn't wait for him like some lovesick girl. But now, with him standing there, the robe suddenly felt too thin, and her heart betrayed her, slamming against her ribs.
"Where were you?" His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the quiet like a blade.
Ava blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You didn't answer your phone," Dante said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.
The click of the lock made her throat tighten. "My men told me you left the office early. Why?"
Her mouth went dry. "|–Claire was being impossible again, so I left before I said something I'd regret. I needed to clear my head."
Dante's eyes darkened, his jaw ticking. "You cleared your head alone. In the city."
Ava crossed her arms, bracing herself. "Yes. I went for a walk, Dante. Not every moment of my life needs to be shadowed by your men."
He was in front of her before she realized he'd moved, his hand catching her chin, forcing her to look at him. His grip wasn't cruel, but it wasn't gentle either. "Every moment of your life matters to me. Every moment, Ava. Do you understand that?"
Something inside her trembled –not just from fear, but from the intensity in his eyes. She'd seen Dante angry before, and seen him dangerous. But this was different. This was personal.
"Dante…." Her voice faltered. "You can't keep me locked away."
His thumb brushed over her lower lip, silencing her.
"I don't want to lock you away. I want to keep you alive. There are people who would hurt you just to see me bleed." His gaze flickered, stormy and unrelenting. "So yes, I'll control where you go, who you see, what you do–until I know you're safe.
That's not a prison, Ava. That's protection."
Her chest rose and fell too fast. His words should have reassured her, but instead they knotted inside her, suffocating. She pushed against his chest, needing space, needing air. "But where do I fit in this? What about what I want?"
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
Then Dante laughed softly, without humor. "What do you want?" He released her only to cage her against the wall with both arms. "Ava, what you want doesn't always matter in my world. What matters is that. you're mine. And I'II do whatever it takes to keep what's mine"
Her pulse hammered at his words. She hated the way part of her thrilled at his intensity, how her body leaned toward him even as her mind screamed for distance.
"Dante," she whispered, "you're scaring me."
His gaze softened for a fraction of a second, then hardened again. "Good. Fear keeps you alive. But don't ever mistake it–I would never hurt you. I would kill the world before I laid a hand against you."
Her breath hitched. His words wrapped around her like chains and silk at once.
She shook her head, fighting to hold her ground.
"This isn't love, Dante. Love isn't supposed to shock you."
"Love?" His mouth curved, dangerous and slow, as he leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear."This is love, Ava. This is care,and this is protection . This is me,unable to breathe unless I know you're safe in my arms. And maybe that makes me a monster–but I don't care. Because you're mine."
Her knees buckled, torn between anger and the molten heat curling low in her belly. He caught her, lifting her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed.
"Dante-"
"Shh." His voice was rough, ragged. "You can fight me with your words all you want. But your body knows the truth."
When he laid her down, she could feel every bit of his control–his touch demanding, his eyes burning into hers as if daring her to deny him. And despite herself, despite the storm of fear and longing inside her, she didn't.
Her hands clutched at his shirt, pulling him down to her, surrendering and resisting all at once.
Every kiss was a claim. Every touch was a reminder.
He worshiped her with his mouth, with his hands, with his body–but beneath it all was the constant pulse of possession. She could feel it in the way he whispered her name like a vow and a warning.
"You're mine, Ava. Say it."
Her lips trembled. "I'm yours."
The words slipped out before she could stop them and his answering groan was both triumph and relief.
The night blurred in a haze of passion and unrelenting intensity. She lost herself in him, in the fire that threatened to consume them both.
But later, when the silence returned and Dante's arm was heavily around her waist, Ava lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
She touched her lips, still swollen from his kisses, her body aching from his touch.
He loved her–she didn't doubt that. But love wasn't supposed to feel like a cage.
And for the first time, she wondered if she'd stepped into something she couldn't escape.
The darkness of the room pressed in, Dante's steady breathing against her neck a reminder of his unyielding presence. Ava closed her eyes, but the thought refused to leave her mind: What if his obsession wasn't protecting her at all ... but
destroying her instead?