Chapter 2

ELARA POV

My legs were still trembling when Dante finally set me down, yet his arms did not loosen their hold. He kept me pressed close to his chest, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm and uneven against my skin. I could feel the thunder of his heart beneath my palm—wild, unsteady, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire and something deeper, far more dangerous, “how long I have waited to do that.”

My fingers curled into the lapels of his suit jacket. “Dante… this is madness. You are Lucas’s uncle. If anyone found out—”

“Let them find out,” he cut in sharply, his hands lifting to cup my face, his gaze locking onto mine with fierce intensity. “Let the whole world know. I have watched him neglect you, ignore you, treat you as if you were nothing—and I have held my tongue long enough. He does not deserve you, Elara. He never did.”

Before I could reply, the terrace doors swung open behind us. Laughter and voices spilled out into the night, and my blood turned to ice.

“Dante? Are you out here?”

It was Lucas.

Panic surged through me. I tried to pull away, to step out of Dante’s embrace, but his arms only tightened, holding me firmly in place. He did not look away. He did not release me. Instead, he lowered his head and brushed his lips once more against my temple—slow, deliberate, possessive—just as Lucas stepped into the moonlight.

“Uncle Dante?” Lucas’s voice faltered. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him: me in Dante’s arms, my cheeks flushed, my breathing ragged, Dante’s hands still resting on my waist. “What… what is going on here?”

Dante released me slowly, but not before his fingers lingered at my side, sending a final, searing heat through my skin. He turned to face his nephew, his posture calm, his expression unreadable. “Your wife was standing alone in the cold, Lucas. I came out to make certain she was well.”

Lucas’s gaze darted between us, suspicious, confused, but ultimately unwilling to suspect the truth. He scoffed, shaking his head. “Of course. She’s always finding ways to draw attention to herself. Can’t even stand quietly for five minutes without needing someone to comfort her.” He stepped forward and grabbed my arm roughly, his grip painful. “Come inside, Elara. You are making a fool of yourself.”

I stumbled as he pulled me away, but not before I glanced back over my shoulder. Dante stood exactly where I had left him, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes burning with a dark, unspoken promise. He did not look away. Not even when Lucas dragged me through the doors and back into the warmth of the crowded ballroom.

 

The ride home was silent and suffocating. Lucas gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, his jaw set in a hard, angry line. He did not speak to me once, and I did not dare speak to him. I kept my face turned toward the window, staring out at the passing city lights, my mind replaying every touch, every word, every kiss from the terrace.

Dante. Lucas’s own uncle. The most feared and respected man in their family. And he had looked at me as if I were the only woman in the world.

“You enjoyed his attention, didn’t you?” Lucas said suddenly, his voice low and venomous.

I flinched. “What?”

“Uncle Dante. The way you were standing out there with him. Letting him touch you, speak to you… you wanted him to look at you. You were practically throwing yourself at him just to make me jealous.” He let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Pathetic. You will do anything just to feel important for a moment, won’t you?”

Each word cut deeper than a blade. I stared at him, stunned by his cruelty. “That is not what happened. He was simply—”

“Quiet!” he snapped. “I do not want to hear your excuses. You are my wife, Elara. Mine. And remember this: no matter who looks at you, no matter who pretends to care… you are nothing without me. Without my name, my money, my protection. You would be nothing.”

He fell silent after that, and the rest of the drive passed in cold, heavy silence. But as I sat there, hurting and humiliated, one thought kept pushing through the pain—Dante did not treat me like I was nothing. To him, I was everything.

 

Days passed, yet the memory of that night refused to fade. Every time Lucas spoke to me with that same cold disdain, every time he walked past me as though I did not exist, my mind drifted back to the terrace. To Dante’s voice. To the way he had said you are magnificent.

Late one evening, when Lucas had once again left the house without a word, my phone buzzed. An unknown number.

I know Lucas is not there. Open the door, Elara. I know you are inside.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I read the words over and over. How did he know? And why was he here?

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the screen. If he came in… if anyone found out… the consequences would be devastating. But then I thought of Lucas’s voice, sneering that I was nothing. I thought of the warmth I had felt in Dante’s arms.

Before I could change my mind, I walked to the door and unlocked it.

Dante stood on the porch, tall and imposing in the dim light, his eyes dark and intense as they settled on me. He did not ask permission. He simply stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and leaned his forehead against mine.

“I could not stay away,” he whispered, his hands coming up to cup my face with devastating tenderness. “Every hour I spend away from you is torture. Seeing him treat you like this… seeing him waste what should be cherished… it destroys me.”

“Dante, you cannot be here,” I whispered, even as my hands found their way to his chest. “If he returns—”

“Let him return,” Dante said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “Let him try to take you from me. I told you once, Elara… I do not let go of what belongs to me. And from the moment I first saw you, alone and hurting in that cold hall… you have been mine.”

He pulled me into his arms, and this time there was no hesitation, no fear, no holding back. He kissed me with a desperate, burning passion that made my knees weak and my head spin. He lifted me up, carrying me toward the living room, laying me gently upon the sofa as if I were something precious and fragile.

“You deserve to be worshipped,” he murmured against my skin, his hands tracing every curve, every line of me with reverence and fire. “Not ignored. Not insulted. Loved. Cherished. Adored.”

Every touch, every word, shattered the last of my resistance. I clung to him, my fingers tangling in his hair, my body arching to meet his, giving myself completely to the man I should never have wanted. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was dangerous. But lying there in his arms, feeling his love and his protection wrap around me like a shield, I realized something terrifying—I did not care.

Let the world burn. Let Lucas find out. Let everything fall apart.

For the first time in my life, someone saw me. Someone valued me. Someone loved me.

And his name was Dante Vance.

 

To be continue