CHAPTER 21

Lia’s POV

I lay in bed for over an hour, tossing and turning, my mind racing and my body restless. The room felt too hot despite the open window. The sheets felt too rough against my skin. Everything felt wrong.

Finally, I gave up.

I pulled on shorts and a t-shirt and left my room, padding quietly through the dark hallways and down the stairs. I knew where I was going before I consciously decided.

The pool.

Maybe he wouldn't be there. Maybe I'd have the quiet and the stars and the glowing water all to myself, and I could clear my head and figure out what the hell was happening to me.

But as I stepped out onto the terrace and the pool came into view, I saw him immediately.

Dante was in the water, cutting through it with long, powerful strokes, his body moving with that same effortless grace I'd watched from behind the plant two nights ago.

My heart kicked hard against my ribs.

I should leave. I should turn around right now and go back inside and lock myself in my room and stop seeking out situations that were only going to make everything more complicated.

But I didn't leave.

I walked closer instead, my bare feet silent on the warm stone.

Dante reached the edge of the pool and stopped, turning to push off again. That's when he saw me.

He straightened in the water, pushing his wet hair back from his face, and looked at me with those dark, unreadable eyes.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, his deep voice carrying easily across the still night air.

"No," I admitted.

There was a pause. He was watching me carefully, waiting.

"Join me," he said finally. Not a question. An invitation.

Every rational thought in my head was screaming at me to say no. To make an excuse. To go back inside where it was safe.

But I was so tired of being rational. So tired of doing the right thing and getting nothing in return. So tired of denying myself even the smallest moments of happiness because I was too worried about being good, being appropriate, being what everyone expected.

"Okay," I heard myself say.

Dante's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or satisfaction.

I reached down and grabbed the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it up and over my head. The night air hit my bare skin, making me shiver. I wasn't wearing a bra—I'd been getting ready for bed when I'd decided to come out here—so I was suddenly very aware of how exposed I was.

But I didn't stop.

I pushed my shorts down over my hips and stepped out of them, leaving me in nothing but a simple pair of cotton underwear.

I could feel Dante's eyes on me, but I didn't look at him. If I looked at him, I might lose my nerve.

I walked to the edge of the pool and sat down, dipping my legs in. The water was perfect—cool enough to be refreshing but warm enough to be inviting. It glowed that same ethereal blue-green I remembered, lit from within.

Then I slipped into the water completely.

It rose around me, silky and cool against my overheated skin. I sank down until the water reached my shoulders and let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

God, that felt good.

Dante was a few feet away, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read in the dim light.

We floated there in silence for a moment, the quiet broken only by the gentle lap of water against the pool's edge and the distant sound of the sea.

"Your paintings," I said finally, needing to break the silence before it became too heavy. "I've been thinking about them. The one in the hallway—the woman on the cliff. It's incredible."

Dante tilted his head slightly, considering me. "You really think so?"

"Yes," I said honestly. "I've never seen anything like it. The way you captured the wind, the emotion in it even without seeing her face. It's..." I searched for the right word. "Haunting. In the best way."

Something shifted in his expression. Softened.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"I've always been fascinated by artists," I continued, moving my arms gently through the water. "The way you can take what's in your head, what you're feeling, and make it real for other people to see. It seems like magic."

"It's not magic," Dante said, a slight smile touching his lips. "It's just practice. And patience. And being willing to fail a lot before you get it right."

"Still," I said. "It's a gift."

Dante was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes studying me in that intense way of his.

"I'd like to paint you," he said finally.

The words hit me like a physical thing. My breath caught.

"What?"

"I'd like to paint you," he repeated, moving slightly closer in the water. "If you'd let me."

I let out a surprised laugh that sounded almost nervous. "You only paint beautiful things," I said, trying to make it sound light, like a joke. "I'm not—I wouldn't—"

"Lia." He said my name like a statement. Like he was correcting me.

I looked up at him, and he was closer now. Much closer. Moving through the water toward me with slow, deliberate movements.

My back hit the edge of the pool. I had nowhere to go.

Dante stopped right in front of me, close enough that I could feel the water displaced by his body, close enough that I could see the water droplets on his eyelashes, close enough that if I reached out I could touch him.

His hand came up out of the water.

I froze, my heart hammering, as his fingers touched my chin. Gentle but firm. He lifted my face so I had no choice but to look directly into his eyes.

Those dark, intense eyes that seemed to see straight through me.

"You are beautiful," he said, his voice low and serious and absolutely certain. "And I would be honored to have you as my muse."

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything except stare at him.

"Since the moment we met," Dante continued, his thumb brushing lightly along my jaw, "you've been running circles in my mind. I can't stop thinking about you."

Oh god.

"Fuck Rob," Dante said, and there was something almost angry in his voice now. "Fuck him for not appreciating you. For making you believe you're anything less than stunning. For making you doubt yourself."

His hand slid from my chin down the side of my neck, his fingers trailing along my skin with agonizing slowness. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire.

I shivered despite the warm water. Despite the warm night. My whole body was responding to his touch in ways I couldn't control.

"Dante," I whispered, but I didn't know what I was trying to say. Stop? Don't stop? I have a boyfriend? I don't care that I have a boyfriend?

He leaned in closer. So close I could feel his breath against my lips. So close that if either of us moved even an inch, we'd be kissing.

His hand was still on my neck, his thumb resting against my pulse point where I knew he could feel my heart racing.

"Tell me to stop," he said quietly, his eyes locked on mine. "Tell me you don't want this and I'll walk away right now."

I opened my mouth.

No words came out.

Because I couldn't tell him to stop.