Under His Gaze

Valeria’

From the second I turned and found him standing there, my breath had caught in my throat. Dante. His hairy arms were crossed across his chest, his pose commanding. And the eyes, those sharp grey eyes peered into me with an icy stare. No emotion, no warmth. Just sharp calculation. I jerked myself up straight, and struggled to compose my body. But inside? My heart slammed against my ribs. Our eyes locked. Neither of us moved. He didn’t speak. Not at first. “What did you mean by that?” His voice finally broke the silence .

I blinked once, my expression vacant. “Mean by what?” His jaw twitched. “Don’t mess with me, Valeria,” he said, taking a slow step forward. “That little thing you said back there by the pool — who are you, even, trying to take everything back from?” My stomach twisted. He’d heard. Of course he had. I’d been so deep in my own world that I hadn’t even sensed him come up to me.

“I was just thinking to myself,” I answered pleasantly. “You startled me.” Dante’s lips twisted, but not into a smile—but something harder. “You was speakin’ to yourself… about revenge?”

I tipped my chin ever so lightly. “It was a figure of speech.”

“Fuck you,” he replied. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” That was the final straw of his patience breaking. He laughed. But there was no humor in it. Just disbelief and fury.

“You think I’m that dumb to go to jail?” he hissed, stepping closer again. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” I stepped back once. He followed.

“You’ve been too obedient. Too silent. Suddenly playing the perfect subordinate. Earning the team’s trust. Bleeding in front of them. Sacrificing like a loyal soldier.” He took another step. I took another back. He had spoken in a low, chilling tone of voice. “But behind all that performance … something’s cooking. Isn’t it?”

I swallowed hard but continued to meet his gaze. “You’re losing your mind,” I whispered. “You’re suspicious of everyone. That’s your problem.”

“My problem?” he echoed, almost amused. He took another step forward. I back up until the pool licked my ankle.

“You talk like you have choices,” he said, firmly and coolly. “Like you own your life.”

“I do own my life,” I said.

He tilted his head. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” In a flash his hand flew out—not to touch me—but to block me, his palm connecting again with the column beside my head. I didn’t flinch. Not outside. But my pulse was wild.

“I own you,” he hissed. “Everything that you are now, everything you pretend to be — that’s me. I took you out of that to a place where there was no one but you and me. I gave you protection. I gave you purpose.”

“You bought me like I’m merchandise,” I forced out through clenched teeth.

“And you played it up, you played it up,” he spat. He moved forward another inch. “You think you’re rising, Valeria. But don’t forget who built the floor under your feet.” My fists clenched.

“You want to take back what was stolen from you?” he murmured. “Then let me remind you.”

“You. Are. Mine.”

"That's not true," I cut him off, my eyes widening, my own rage and humiliation like bile in my throat.

“I’m no one’s,” I hissed. He ignored it completely. “I paid for you. You signed the contract. You agreed to my terms. And if I say here and now that you deserve to die — you do.”

“If I wanted you dead this minute, you’d have to do it without a complaint.”

My breath caught. I was left staring at him, open mouthed — not necessarily by what he had said, but how casually he had said it. Like it was a simple truth. As though death were something he could give me on a silver platter, and I should do him the courtesy of lying down and saying thank you. My lips opened, something bitter scrabbling up my throat. I could barely speak the words. My head spun with rage, disbelief, and something colder — something that locked down my lungs and made it difficult to breathe. I backed away, needing space from him, needing . My foot slipped. It all happened too fast.

The edge to the pool was slippery and it caught my heel and next thing I knew, I was falling backwards. My arms flung out to steady myself, but the world tilted along with me.

“No—!”

But, right as the fall really started, a hand reached out and grabbed my wrist, my arm being pulled that way so hard it forced me right back upright.

Dante.

I felt his fingers tighten on my arm, his body so close again. His smell, cool and dark and heady, rushed through me. I hated that he caught me. And I just despised the look in his eyes.

“Let go of me,” I snapped, my tone laced with contempt. His grip didn’t loosen.

“I said—let me go, Dante!” I shouted louder, eyes flashing. “Don’t touch me!” At first, his face didn’t change. He gave me the same cool, indifferent stare. But then…

He did. He let go. Too fast. Too easily. And I fell. Right into the water. It took my breath away, it was a shock. The embrace of the cold struck me, clawing at my clothes, dragging me under for a second before I resurfaced. My hair was plastered to my face, my clothes drenched and heavy. I slapped the water of the pool with my hands as a gasped for air.

I heard him then. Chuckling. My blood boiled. I swam to the edge, yanked myself out, hands shaking, fury tearing through my limbs in flames. I stood drenched, the water washing down my body, my pyjamas sticking tightly against all of me. But I didn’t care. I didn’t feel the cold. Not next to the fire in my chest. My body shook — not with cold, but with the eruption of hatred that had finally risen to the surface. I took a step toward him, my breathing ragged, my hair plastered to my cheeks, my vocal cords raw. “You think this is funny?” I whispered. He arched an eyebrow, but made no reply.

“Do I amuse you, Dante?” I continued, louder now. “You treat people like pawns. You think you have enough money, and you’re big enough now, that you can give your money away and you’re so full of the right way to think. You do stupid stuff, and then you do stupid stuff that costs your life and the lives of others.” I took another step.

“Well, guess what?” My voice cracked. “I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.” He did not say anything, but there was a flicker in his eyes. And I didn’t stop.

“Yes,” I snarled. “I hate you and you sicken me! You ruined my life, took everything that was mine, and now you think I’ll take orders from you?” I took a step closer.

“I want everything that belonged to me back!”