CHAPTER FIVE: Another night with the devil

★★★★

Alessia came back home, pacing angrily all through the length of the bedroom, with her bare feet pressing into the cold marble floor; each step she took echoed with rising panic.

The room was dimly lit, draped in muted tones of beige and grey alongside elegant curtains that were swaying slightly from the soft breeze slipping in through a half-open window. A chandelier hung above at the middle, casting scattered golden reflections across the walls of the room. But with its luxury, the room felt like a cage tonight.

Her heart was racing and thundering in her chest at the same time, as images of her earlier encounter with Dante flashed behind her eyes. She still felt his touch on her skin, the way he fingered her and the words he spoke to her.

In frustration, she raked both hands through her hair, pulling at the strands. Please let this be a dream, she thought desperately—but deep down, she somehow wanted it. That was the part that scared her most.

The door creaked open, and Katerine stepped inside.

She paused at the entrance and narrowed her gaze a little when she saw her daughter pacing restlessly. She couldn’t help but ask, “Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, laced with concern.

Alessia gasped, startled by the sudden presence. She spun around immediately, with her chest still heaving.

Katherine raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her reply.

She turned her gaze away and hissed under her breath, refusing to answer.

Katerine placed her hands on her daughter’s neck awkwardly, then sighed. “I'm sorry,” she said at last, voice low and sincere.

Alessia laughed in a dry and humourless manner. Her cold eyes meet that of her mother, with disgust written all over her face. “Sorry?” she echoed the word as it tasted bitter on her tongue. “I don’t want your fucking sorry, Mom. I want you to stand up for me—just once.” Her voice cracked as she yelled, a blend of fury and heartbreak crashing out of her in waves.

Katerine exhaled slowly. “I can’t just fight your father because of you…” she murmured, lifting her shoulders in a weak shrug.

And yet there was that one stranger who wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone, if they dared disrespect her.

She gulped down, her thoughts drifting to that passionate night when she felt loved and cared for, the first time.

"I know this marriage would do you good and us too. ”Even though he might be cheating, you can change him, you know," she said, trying to convince her.

Alessia huffed.

She stood in shock and stared at her mom; she wanted to scream. The thought hit her like a slap, making her jaw tighten. But she held her temper and said nothing. She didn’t need to—her silence was loud enough.

She looked down. The guilt gnawed at her. She had no right to demand loyalty when she herself had crossed a line. She had betrayed him too.

“Forget it,” she muttered.

Katerine stepped closer and wrapped her arm around her. Her body stiffened instantly.

Something in her has shifted. Even her mom’s touch felt wrong.

Unwanted. Foreign.

Her mind—her body—still replayed the raw, stolen moment with Dante. It was too fresh, too consuming.

She pulled away slowly, masking the discomfort with a small, forced smile.

Katerine frowned but didn’t push. “I’ll make you your favourite meal tonight,” she said. “Let’s go out tomorrow… if you don’t mind.”

Alessia hesitated, biting her lower lip, lost in thought. Then she nodded gently. A hollow gesture. A pacifying smile.

Katerine’s lips curved into a grin, and she stepped toward her again, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I love you, and I have missed you and all the sweet moments.”

Alessia rolled her eyes immediately. Of course.

“She left the room, her back straight and her eyes forward, leaving Katerine behind, scowling in silence.

★★★★

That night, the rain fell in silver sheets, gently tapping against the towering windows of Alessia's penthouse apartment. The city lights blurred behind the water-stained glass, creating a kaleidoscope of neon lunacy. However, everything inside remained still.

Too still.

Alessia stood barefoot in the kitchen, one hand wrapped around a half-empty wine glass, while the other rested against the marble counter as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. Her eyes were vacant. Her lips were swollen. Her wrists were slightly bruised.

She hadn’t touched the food her mum prepared for her. Or even checked her phone.

Every part of her body still felt like it belonged to him.

Dante.

His name echoed inside her like a curse and a comfort. She hated that she felt something for him. That his voice still lived beneath her skin. That her body still burnt in places he’d barely touched.

She closed her eyes and exhaled shakily.

What the hell am I becoming?

And then a knock shattered the silence.

She froze immediately.

Her eyes darted to the door of the kitchen. Could it be Damon? Because no family member of hers would knock on the kitchen door; they all have their keys. Her pulse stuttered.

She tiptoed to the door, peering through the peephole.

She flinched when she saw who it was.

It was the devil himself.

**Dante Moretti.**

His black coat was soaked due to the rain, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top, exposing his tattoos that glistened from the droplets. His face was unreadable. His eyes—dark, raw, volatile.

But she didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Another heavy knock.

“Alessia,” he said through the door. With his voice steady and too calm.

She stepped back.

“I know you’re there,” he said. “Open the door.”

She stayed silent.

“Or I will break it.”

She pauses. Thunder cracked in the distance.

She was frightened as she opened the door immediately.

The moment their eyes met, she hated herself for the way her knees trembled. and the way her heart betrayed her—she did not know when she leapt towards him like a prisoner, and he carried her while stepping inside the kitchen and tenderly laid her on the counter like a baby and kissed her hungrily.