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Chapter 37

Penulis: Bunnykoo
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-12-19 00:02:00

The carpet in Dante’s office was rough against my knees. It was a high-grade wool blend that probably cost more per square foot than my first car but down here on the floor it felt like sandpaper.

I did not look at Dante. I looked at the polished leather of his shoes. I looked at the sharp crease of his trousers. I focused on the physical details because if I focused on the reality of what I was doing I would shatter.

I was kneeling.

I was kneeling in a glass office in the middle of Manhattan in broad daylight with the door unlocked.

Dante sat on the edge of his desk above me. He was silent. His hand rested heavy and hot on the crown of my head. It was a benediction and a curse all at once. He stroked my hair with a slow and rhythmic motion that made my scalp tingle.

“You want the card,” he said.

His voice was not angry. It was contemplative. He sounded like a scientist observing a rat in a maze who had finally found the cheese.<
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  • The Ceo’s Unwanted Claim   Chapter 40

    The world did not end with a bang. It ended with the soft click of a wooden box closing.Dante shut the lid. He hid the finger. He hid the silver ring with the turquoise stone. But he could not hide the image that was now burned into the back of my eyelids.I was on the floor of the vault. The cold concrete seeped through my dress, chilling my skin, but I was already freezing from the inside out. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs felt like they had filled with concrete.“Evelina.”Dante’s voice was far away. He was crouching in front of me. He looked huge. Terrifying. His face was a mask of violence barely contained by human skin.“Look at me,” he commanded.I shook my head. I couldn’t look at him. If I looked at him, I would have to acknowledge that this was real. That my sister—my innocent, sick baby sister—had been mutilated because I had signed a contract with a devil.“She needs that hand,” I whispered. The logic was fra

  • The Ceo’s Unwanted Claim   Chapter 39

    I screamed It was not a scream of pleasure. It was a scream of pure unadulterated terror mixed with a fury that felt like it was tearing my throat apart.Dante did not stop.He took the scream as an invitation. He took it as a surrender.He pinned my wrists to the mattress with one hand. His grip was so tight I could feel the bones grinding together. With his other hand he stripped the ruined remains of the grey dress from my body. He did not undress me.He unveiled me. He treated the fabric like it was wrapping paper on a gift he had already paid for.“Look at you,” he hissed.He was looming over me. His chest was heaving. His skin was flushed with a dark and violent heat. He looked like a god of war who had just descended to burn a city to the ground.“You let him touch your hair,” Dante whispered. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back exposing my throat. “Did you like it? Was he gentle

  • The Ceo’s Unwanted Claim   Chapter 38

    The victory tasted like ash.I sat in the passenger seat of the limousine, the rain drumming a frantic rhythm against the roof. We were heading back to the penthouse. The black folder—the one containing the Tanaka dossier, the one filled with evidence Kenji Sato had handed me like a poisoned apple sat on the leather seat between us.Dante hadn’t opened it since we left the office. He hadn’t spoken. He stared out the window at the blurred city lights, his profile carved from granite.He was too quiet.Usually, Dante’s anger was a physical thing. It filled the room. It had a temperature. But this silence was different. It was a vacuum. It sucked the air out of the car until I felt lightheaded.“Are you… are you happy with the file?” I asked. My voice sounded small in the quiet car.Dante didn’t turn his head.“Happy is a pedestrian word,” he said. “I am… intrigued.”He reached out and tapped the leather cover of the folder.“It is a remarkable piece of work, Evelina. Detailed. Specific.

  • The Ceo’s Unwanted Claim   Chapter 37

    The carpet in Dante’s office was rough against my knees. It was a high-grade wool blend that probably cost more per square foot than my first car but down here on the floor it felt like sandpaper.I did not look at Dante. I looked at the polished leather of his shoes. I looked at the sharp crease of his trousers. I focused on the physical details because if I focused on the reality of what I was doing I would shatter.I was kneeling.I was kneeling in a glass office in the middle of Manhattan in broad daylight with the door unlocked.Dante sat on the edge of his desk above me. He was silent. His hand rested heavy and hot on the crown of my head. It was a benediction and a curse all at once. He stroked my hair with a slow and rhythmic motion that made my scalp tingle.“You want the card,” he said.His voice was not angry. It was contemplative. He sounded like a scientist observing a rat in a maze who had finally found the cheese.

  • The Ceo’s Unwanted Claim   Chapter 36

    Time did not exist in the box.There was no sun. There was no wind. There was only the hum of the ventilation system and the glowing blue light of the security screens.I sat on the floor with my knees pulled to my chest. My back was pressed against the cold steel of the wall. I had stopped crying hours ago. Tears required hydration and I had none. My throat was parched. My tongue felt like a piece of sandpaper in my mouth.I watched the screens.I watched Dante.He was a silent movie villain. I watched him work. I watched him sign papers. I watched him drink coffee. He did not look at the bookshelf. He did not look at the hidden door. He acted as if I had simply ceased to exist.At one point Bianca came back in. She sat on the edge of his desk. She laughed at something he said. She touched his shoulder.I scratched at the floor with my fingernails until they bled.I hated him.It was a pure and distilling h

  • The Ceo’s Unwanted Claim   Chapter 35

    Breakfast was not a meal. It was an interrogation disguised as dining.Dante took me to a small bistro two blocks from the tower. It was the kind of place where the eggs cost thirty dollars and the silence cost even more. He sat across from me in the booth and watched me with eyes that felt like physical weights pressing on my skin.He had not let go of my hand since we left the Archives.He held my fingers trapped against the white tablecloth. His thumb rubbed over my knuckles in a slow and rhythmic circle that was meant to be soothing but felt like a threat. He was checking for a pulse. He was checking for a tremor. He was checking for the lie he knew was hidden somewhere inside me.I tried to eat the toast on my plate. It tasted like sawdust. Every time I swallowed, I felt the phantom sensation of the sticky note burning against my chest even though I had left it hidden in the box.I had left the address of the Yakuza front in a cardbo

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