CHAPTER EIGHT: DOUBLE DATE

The table was enveloped in silence; the only sound breaking through the thick air was the clinking of cutlery. No one spoke. No one dared. The atmosphere was tight—oppressively close.

Alessia was beyond restless.

Her fingers trembled slightly around her wine glass, but it wasn’t the drink that was making her hands shake. It was him.

Dante.

He sat across the table like a predator, arms relaxed, eyes anything but. His gaze was locked on her—burning, dragging across her skin as if he had the right. As if he owned her. Every time she looked up, he was already watching. Intense. Dark. Possessive.

Her breath hitched as she shifted in her seat, trying—and failing—not to let him get under her skin.

But then it happened.

She felt it — the brush of his leg against hers under the table. Subtle. Deliberate.

Her breath caught

.

Her eyes widened slightly, her heart pounding. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. Frozen by the boldness of it, the nerve of him to touch her like this… with Damon sitting beside her. With Rebecca across the table.

She gasped quietly and moved her leg away. Darting a quick glance toward Dante a second later, but he didn’t blink. He acted like nothing was happening—like he wasn’t deliberately pressing his leg against hers beneath the table, igniting her nerves, daring her body to remember.

“So, how did you two meet?” Rebecca asked suddenly, shattering the silence.

Damon leaned forward to speak, but Alessia beat him to it—too quickly.

“We met at a business meeting,” she said, voice a little too high, a little too forced. “It was… love at first sight. And now, well—here we are, engaged. “Expecting to get married soon,” she said while showing off her diamond ring

She leaned in and placed a kiss on Damon’s cheek. He grinned proudly, completely unaware of the war waging beside him.

“How romantic,” Rebecca gushed, smiling brightly. But Dante’s expression was anything but warm. His jaw clenched, eyes never leaving Alessia as he continued his silent assault beneath the table.

She tried to pull her leg away, but he pinned it there, not forcefully, just enough to make a statement: You’re not going anywhere.

And then, out of nowhere, Dante’s voice cut through the conversation like ice.

“Tell me, Alessia,” he said smoothly. “Do you ever miss what you left behind?”

The table stilled.

Damon blinked, confused by the question, but Dante didn’t even glance at him. His attention was focused solely on her.

Her head snapped up. “Excuse me?” she said, reaching for her glass too quickly. “The past is behind me. I’ve moved on from all that. I’m happily engaged to the love of my life.”

He smiled. Not the charming kind. The dangerous one — the smile that had once made her feel alive and now made it hard to breathe.

“Shame,” he murmured. “Because I haven’t.”

Alessia's heart dropped.

She looked at him—and instantly regretted it. His eyes burnt into her. There was no softness there. No remorse. Just a raw, possessive hunger. The same look he used to give her when he had her pressed beneath him, begging.

Rebecca was watching them closely now, eyes flicking between the two of them. Alessia looked away, pretending to clear her throat.

Damon chuckled nervously. “What is this, the 19th century?”

Man, You’re acting like she’s irreplaceable,” Damon said, trying to joke. “There are plenty of women out there.”

Dante finally looked at him—just long enough to let a cold smile curl his lips.

“She is not irreplaceable" he said plainly. “And she’s engaged… to a man named Damon who doesn’t even know what he has.”

Damon blinked, lifting his gaze to look at Dante, who just gave out a cold smile. Alessia froze immediately, her heart pounding as she pleaded with Dante desperately through her eyes.

There was tension in the air as the men stared at each other, and then Damon chuckled.

"Guess he is my namesake then. For a moment... I really thought it was me but then realised Alessia said she doesn't have an ex, that I am her first love," Damon said.

Dante raised a brow and laughed darkly. Man, that means she must be a virgin when you met her, even till now?”

Damon just grinned in return.

Alessia shot Dante a furious glare, but he chuckled in response.

He was enjoying every second of this. “I’m getting her back, though.”

Damon’s eyes widened. “What the hell, man? You just said she’s engaged.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Damon said, his voice low and dangerous. “Not when she’s still crazy about me.”

“She is engaged, like you said,” Alessia snapped. “So why don’t you just fuck off?”

“Oh, that’s exactly what she said yesterday in my office,” Dante said, leaning toward Damon, who watched him with curiosity. “Guess what, man? I had her moaning my name while I fingered her.”

Damon’s eyes widened, and then he burst out laughing. “What the hell, man? She didn’t resist? That makes her a bitch.”

“She’s not a bitch,” Dante said with a lazy grin. “She did try to resist… but she’s just crazy for me. I ruined her. I was the first man to taste her—and damn, bro, she’s still tight. Makes you wonder if her fiancé is even doing anything right.”

“Clearly not,” Damon added, laughing again.

Alessia clenched her fists under the table, shame and guilt washing over her like a wave.

Dante smirked, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it, took a long drag, and exhaled slowly His gaze was anchored to her.

“The next time she dares to act like I can’t have her... I’m fucking her with my dick,” he said darkly, his gaze held promises no one wants to know about.

His eyes were locked on Alessia, whose heart now pounded in her chest. She swallowed hard, her legs instinctively crossing.

His tone was ice-cold. Ruthless. Certain.

Alessia trembled. She knew—deep down—Dante meant every. Single. Word.

He was not ready to let go, and he won't no matter what.

She forced a shaky laugh. “The past is the past, Dante. so move the fuck on.”

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