The wrong woman

Dante’s pov

I opened the door simply because she forgot her payment.

But the moment the door swung open, I walked straight into a scene I didn’t expect.

Some man — clearly furious and unhinged — was standing in the hallway, pointing at the woman I had just slept with.

His voice was raised, his veins were popping.

“So this is what you do the night before our wedding? You sleep with another man?”

I blinked once.

What kind of nonsense…?

The woman — the woman tried to explain but couldn’t, so she whipped around to look at me like I was her salvation.

Explain?

To who?

For what?

I stared at her for half a second.

Her hair was still messy from the night, and i was half naked with just a towel around my waist.

And this man looked like he was about to strangle her on the spot.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

Whatever this drama was, it wasn’t mine.

So I did the simplest, cleanest thing possible.

I shut the door.

And for a moment, I just stood there, the silence pressing against the door like the world outside was trying to shove its chaos back at me.

What the hell was that?

I walked back inside, dragged a hand through my hair,trying to make sense out of what just happened, but nothing seemed to make sense, so i reached for my phone.

There was only one person who could make that scene make sense: Marco.

The call connected at second ring.

“Marco,” I said flatly, “who the hell was the woman you sent to my room last night?”

Marco was silent for some seconds before he spoke confused.

Genuinely confused.

“Sir… the woman I arranged — she didn’t come. She called me this morning saying she couldn’t locate the villa, and by the time she did, it was already late. She never showed.”

I stopped walking.

“What?”

“She didn’t arrive at all, sir. I thought you were alone last night.”

I stared at the wall, my mind replaying everything — the way she walked in like she owned the place, the way she kissed me like she was starving, and the way she clung to me like she’d been waiting for me all her life.

And then…

That moment this morning.

Her face.

The shock in her voice when she asked:

“Who are you?”

It hits me all at once.

She wasn’t the woman Marco sent.

She wasn’t a paid escort.

She wasn’t even supposed to be here.

She had walked into the wrong room.

And I — assuming she was the usual arrangement — didn’t question a damn thing.

Marco was still talking, nervously.

But I wasn’t listening anymore.

I ended the call without a word and tossed the phone onto the bed.

So that was it.

That was what happened.

She thought she was going to her fiancé.

And instead… she walked into mine.

I exhaled slowly, rubbing my jaw as the absurdity of it all settled in.

Now i get why she looked confused and begged that man outside to let me explain.

Explain what?

That his fiancée wandered into the wrong room and slept with a stranger?

Yeah.

Not my business.

I wasn’t about to get dragged into someone else’s emotional meltdown.

Especially not after the night I had — because, God, the night had been good. I ‘m not a man who sat around recalling a stranger’s moans like some inexperienced boy, but she was really good.

Damn good.

She was delicious.

I grabbed my shirt from the chair and slipped it on. The white fabric slid across my skin easily, but i didn’t bother buttoning it yet. I prefer breathing while i thought.

I checked the bedside table one last time. The payment i’d left for her was still there.. Crisp bills stacked neatly.

I snorted under my breath.

“Her loss.”

I slipped on my trousers next, movements clean and efficient. I never lingered where i wasn’t meant to stay.I tied my hair back into a low, loose knot, though a few strands still fell over my forehead.

The villa was quiet again. That was good. I didn’t want another audience.

When i opened the door to leave, i glanced down the hallway where everything had unfolded earlier. Not a trace left behind. Not even her scent.

I didn’t know why that irritated me more than it should.

I stepped out, closing the room behind me for the final time, and started toward the exit.

But halfway down the corridor, i stopped.

A faint memory tugged at him—the way she served herself on platter for me.

I should have forgotten her.

Women are replaceable. Her night should be no different.

So why did i remember the warmth of her breath on my neck?

Why did he remember the way she clung to me like she’d been starving?

I pushed the thoughts away with force, because the images keep popping and i can feel my baby brother growing under me.

Although this was a mistake, it’s a beautiful one.

But I don’t chase mistakes.

I resumed walking.

Outside the villa, the air was crisp, carrying the scent of the sea nearby. I stepped out without looking back. A black car waited for me, doors already open in expectation.

I ran a hand over my jaw and finally buttoned the last button on my shirt. My expression returned to its usual cool, unreadable calm.

I slid into the backseat, closing the door quietly behind me.

By the time the engine started,i had already convinced myself of one thing—

I would never see her again.

And even if i did…i may just pay for her service again

I wouldn’t care.

The car pulled away, leaving the villa—and the woman who had thrown herself into the wrong room—far behind.