Chapter five

Elara’s pov

I stood frozen. What just happened!!?

My heart pounded so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it.

What have I done?

Dante was lying on the floor, face pale, eyes half-closed, struggling for air.

His mistress, Alicia threw herself over him hurriedly, digging into his desk drawer with desperate fingers.

“Here! The epi-pen!” she hissed, pulling out a small syringe and stabbing it into his thigh.

I watched, helpless. I wanted to do something. I wanted to help.

Dante’s body jerked violently on the couch, his lungs fighting for air as Alicia stabbed the syringe into his thigh.

His hands clawed against the cushions, veins bulging at his neck. His right hand man shouted something, but it felt like I was underwater, unable to make sense of anything except Dante’s strangled gasps.

“Dante!” Alicia called him, grabbing his face. “Come on, breathe. Breathe!”

He inhaled sharply, too sharply and then choked, his body convulsing again. I took a step forward instinctively, but Alicia shoved me backward with a glare vicious enough to slice skin.

“Stay away from him!” she barked. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Her words were like a blade to my chest.

She was right and I didn’t defend myself. What was the point? I had messed up. I had poisoned him without knowing. I had almost killed the man who now owned me.

My knees grew weak as Dante’s wheezing grew louder, harsher. Something primal and terrified twisted inside me.

“Please, let me…” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“Get back!” she snapped. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Where did you even come from!”

I walked out slowly out of the room, heartbroken. I pressed my back against the wall, sliding down to the floor as my breath trembled out of me.

I had almost killed him.

God.

I had almost killed a man.

I couldn't even fathom what would happen when he wakes up. I was scared and my eyes stung.

I pressed my palm over my mouth, trying to keep quiet, but a small sob ripped through anyway.

I pulled my knees up to my chest.

If he died…

If he died because of me…

What would happen to Mira?

To me?

I buried my face in my hands and let the tears fall.

Alicia glared at me as she stormed past.

“You!” she hissed, stopping abruptly.

Before I knew it, a slap landed across my face. I fell back a bit.

“If you ever touch his food again, I swear I’ll make your life hell.”

My throat tightened. “I didn’t mean to–”

“Didn’t mean to?” she sneered. “You almost killed him! Do you have any idea what that means? You could go to jail for this…God when Dante wakes up…”

I wanted to scream, to tell her I never meant for this to happen—that I was scared, and felt trapped now.

But the words choked in my throat.

I felt so guilty. Maybe I'll never touch or go near the kitchen.

I walked to my bedroom, my hands shaking. The slap meant nothing to me now. I deserved it…didn't I.

Hours passed and I heard nothing from no one. The mansion was so quiet.

I kept on praying that he was ok.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a soft voice broke through the quiet.

“Miss Elara? The master wants to see you.”

I looked at Dante's bodyguard, shocked. He wanted to see me? Probably to punish me for what I did. I wiped my face, swallowed the lump in my throat, and stood.

From a distance, I saw him laid propped against pillows, shirtless, pale, and breathing slowly. His skin still looked flushed from the reaction, a faint redness tracing down his chest and neck.

He looked… vulnerable.

But only for a heartbeat.

Because when his eyes opened, they locked onto mine with sharp awareness.

Sharp enough to stop me mid-step.

“Come closer, Elara.” he said, voice hoarse and rough.

I obeyed. Not because he ordered me…though that was definitely part of it but because my feet moved on their own. Because something about seeing him like this tugged at something deep in me.

I reached the side of the bed. My hands shook. My throat felt tight. I lowered myself slowly onto the edge of the mattress.

Up close, he looked… alive but exhausted. His hair was a mess, falling over his forehead in dark strands.

Without thinking, absolutely without thinking, I reached out and brushed the hair to the side.

It was soft.

He grabbed my wrist instantly.

Not hard or angrily.

But with purpose.

His grip burned against my skin.

“I-Im sorry,” I apologized immediately.

“Why are you apologizing?” he murmured, voice low.

My breath hitched.

His eyes were fixed on me, intense and unreadable, but softer than I’d ever seen them.

I swallowed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Touch me?” His lips twitched faintly. “You did.”

“I just wanted to…” I hesitated, cheeks heating. “…help.”

He stared at me long enough to make my heart panic in my chest.

Then he exhaled shakily, letting my hand slip from his grasp, though his fingers dragged against my skin as if reluctant to let go.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said quietly.

“I’m not afraid,” I whispered.

“Liar.”

A weak laugh barely a breath escaped him, but it still made warmth flutter in my chest.

God, why was he laughing?

Why was he being gentle? He was very rude to me hours ago. What changed?

Nothing made sense.

I folded my hands in my lap, unsure what to do with myself.

“You think I look pathetic like this, don’t you?” he asked suddenly.

My head snapped up. “What? No sir, I”

He narrowed his eyes. “I guess you’ve seen me in my weakest state now. You probably think I’m powerless.”

The idea horrified me.

“No, sir,” I said quickly, voice trembling with sincerity. “I don’t see you in any way less. I never have.”

For a moment, something warm flickered in his eyes.

Almost like a surprise.

He exhaled slowly and looked away, jaw relaxing.

“Your food…” he started, eyelids heavy, “…was good, though.”

I blinked. “What?”

A faint, weak smirk touched his lips.

“The pain was worth it.”

My heart jumped into my throat.

Was he..

Was he joking with me?

I stared at him, too shocked to form words. Inside, I was freaking out completely and absolutely losing my mind because Dante being soft was dangerous. It made him feel human. It made me feel… something I shouldn’t.

“I…I’m glad you liked it,” I managed to say.

He closed his eyes briefly, either from pain, exhaustion, or something neither of us wanted to name.

Then

“Elara?”

“Yes, sir?”

His eyes opened again, darker now.

“This doesn't mean I won't punish you for this mistake.” He said, his words sounded final.