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Dante’s Hell and the Ghost of the Kitchen
Last Updated:
2026-02-03 02:24:52
Latest chapter
Once His Wallflower, Now His Biggest Mistake The Fox’s Hunger
Chapter 70Caleb's POV The Andalusian night pressed against the villa like a lover too impatient to wait. Heat lingered in every stone, every shadowed corner, turning the air inside the walk-in pantry into something thick, almost drinkable. I was reaching for the jar of Marcona almonds when the voice slithered through the darkness behind me.“You move like sex, Antonella. Slow. Deliberate. Every roll of those hips is begging someone to grab them and fuck the rhythm right out of you.”My fingers froze on the glass. I straightened slowly, forcing the corset to bite deeper into my ribs, forcing the matriarch’s spine to stay rigid even as my pulse hammered traitorously against my throat.Lucien Sterling filled the doorway like sin given tailoring. No jacket tonight; the white dress shirt clung to the hard planes of his chest, top three buttons undone, sleeves shoved to mid-forearm. The veins on those forearms stood out when he lifted the tumbler of bourbon to his lips, ice clinking lik
Once His Wallflower, Now His Biggest Mistake Girls Night Out With The Chairperson
Chapter 69Caleb’s POV The first week as Antonella had been a masterclass in psychological endurance. Every morning, I woke at 4:00 AM in the cramped servants' quarters to begin the grueling ritual of self-erasure. I glued the lashes, mapped the contours of a stranger’s face onto my own, and cinched the corset until my ribs groaned, all to step into the role of the woman who governed the Villa de Cristal.But no amount of makeup could prepare me for the sight of Evelyn.She wasn't the wallflower I had left in New York, the woman who wore her heart on her sleeve and walked with a hesitant, hopeful grace. This Evelyn moved through the glass-walled corridors like a specter of ice. Her eyes, once warm enough to melt my coldest moods, were now twin chips of obsidian, polished and impenetrable. She wore her new surname, Blackwood, like a suit of armor, but I could see the way her fingers trembled when she thought no one was watching.The angst was a living thing between us, though she ha
Once His Wallflower, Now His Biggest Mistake The Gatekeeper’s Gambit
Chapter 68Caleb's POV The service entrance of the *Villa de Cristal* was not a door; it was a checkpoint. Even as "Antonella," the sheer architectural arrogance of the place felt like a weight designed to crush the spirit. The walls were sheer slabs of reinforced glass and white titanium, reflecting the Mediterranean moon with a cold, clinical brilliance.I stepped out of the taxi, my sensible loafers clicking against the pristine gravel. Each step felt like walking a tightrope over a pit of vipers. My pulse was a frantic drumming in my ears, but I forced my breathing into a slow, rhythmic cadence, the breath of a woman who had seen empires rise and fall and found them all wanting."State your business," a guard barked, his hand hovering near the biometric pad. He looked at me, a stern woman in charcoal grey and I saw the flicker of confusion in his eyes. I wasn't the usual help. I didn't look like someone who would beg for a wage; I looked like someone who would fire a man for h
Once His Wallflower, Now His Biggest Mistake The Mediterranean Metamorphosis
Chapter 67 Caleb’s POV The morning light in Marbella was far too bright for a man who had just survived a trash compactor and a death threat. It danced off the white-washed walls with a cheerful indifference to my misery. I stood on a street corner, my body aching, dressed in a set of nondescript tourist clothes Ann had tossed at me before she vanished into the shadows of the "M" district.In my pocket, I had exactly four hundred Euros, my final lifeline and a heart that felt like it had been put through a meat grinder.I looked up toward the hills. Somewhere up there, behind walls of reinforced glass and laser-grid security, Evelyn was waking up in Alaric Blackwood’s bed. My children were eating breakfast in a house where another man played the role of their protector.The realization hit me harder than the cold marble of Seraphina’s floor. As "Mark Reynolds," I was a wanted man. As "Jean-Pierre," I was a joke the Sterlings had already laughed at. As "Caleb Knight," I was a gho
Once His Wallflower, Now His Biggest Mistake Dante’s Hell and the Ghost of the Kitchen
Chapter 16Valencia’s POVThe lower courtyard was a pit of gray concrete and biting wind. The sun hadn't quite cleared the horizon, leaving the world in a bruised shade of violet. I stood there, my lungs burning with the intake of the frigid morning air, wearing only a thin tactical tracksuit.Dante was already there. He didn't look like he had slept; he looked like he had been forged in a furnace and quenched in ice. He didn't say good morning. He didn't ask how I felt. He simply pointed to a heavy, sand-filled tactical vest lying on the ground."Put it on," he barked. "Twenty laps. If you vomit, do it while you’re moving. I don't stop the clock for weakness."I didn't argue. I couldn't. Silas’s words from the library were still echoing in my skull, a rhythmic, cruel chant: Momentary lapse. Biological necessity. Weapons do not catch feelings.Every step I took was a strike against the concrete. The vest weighed forty pounds, pulling at my shoulders, digging into the skin that was sti
Once His Wallflower, Now His Biggest Mistake The Lady in Red (and Lead)
Chapter 65The transition from the abyss of the waste bin to consciousness was not a slow drift; it was a violent snap. One moment, I was drowning in a dream of Evelyn’s wedding veil, its delicate lace fluttering like a ghost in the wind, wrapping around my throat tighter and tighter until I couldn't breathe. Next, the sensation of silk, real, high-thread-count silk was against my cheek, cool and unforgiving, like the touch of a lover who had long since turned into an enemy.I didn't open my eyes immediately. My brain, still foggy from the hypoxia and the brutal trauma of the fall into that godforsaken dumpster, tried desperately to make sense of the sensory input crashing over me. The acrid stench of rotting lilies and sour wine that had permeated my nightmares was gone, evaporated like a bad memory. In its place was a sharp, clinical scent: lavender, mingled with the unmistakable oily tang of expensive gun lubricant, and beneath it all, a hint of a spicy, feminine perfume that evo
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