Chapter 6

Livia Solene

My eyes were wide open in sheer panic, staring up at the man on top of me, but Dante remained entirely unfazed, looking down at me as calm as if we were lounging on a sunny beach instead of hiding out in a hotel room right next door to my enraged husband. He didn't care at all. A sick knot twisted in my stomach, and a wave of pure dread washed over me. I knew bringing him to a hotel right next to Vincent was a mistake.

“Tsk. Some nuisance is interrupting us,” Dante muttered, his voice rough with lingering frustration as he pulled back.

A thick, heavy drop of his cum still leaked slowly down his length. Panicking, I yanked the white bedsheets up to my chin, desperately trying to shield my naked, trembling body from the open air.

“That’s my husband out there! And my dress is still lying in pieces on the floor!” I hissed, my voice trembling with adrenaline.

Dante just calmly smirked at me, utterly unbothered by the impending doom outside. He casually stepped off the bed and headed straight into the bathroom, completely ignoring the way Vincent’s muffled shouts rattled the heavy oak door. A few minutes later, he strolled back out wearing a plush white hotel bathrobe loosely tied at his waist. He walked toward the floor where I left my dress, bent down, and scooped up my ruined, discarded silk dress.

“Stay here,” Dante commanded, his voice dropping into a dark, commanding register, and he put my dress on the bed before he turned and walked down the short private hallway toward the entryway.

I stayed frozen on the bed, clutching the sheets to my chest. I couldn't see the door from the bed, but the heavy click of the deadbolt unlocking made my heart slam violently against my ribs.

“Mr. C-Cortez.”

My eyebrows drew together in a tight, disbelieving frown. Hearing Vincent’s voice. The usually so cold, arrogant, and imposing crack with sudden, nervous tension felt entirely surreal.

“Mr. Smith. You are disturbing my floor. Did you forget who holds the funding keys for the tech expansion of your portfolio?” Dante said, his voice dropping an octave into a chilling, razor-sharp tone. The playful man from a moment ago had completely vanished, replaced by a ruthless investor holding absolute leverage over Vincent's livelihood.

“I-I sincerely apologize, Mr. Cortez! I had no idea you were occupying this suite,” Vincent stammered, stumbling over his own words, his tone instantly shifting into submissive deference. “I wouldn't have dreamed of interrupting your stay.”

“You are treading on thin ice, Smith,” Dante warned, his tone dripping with cold authority. “Your recent quarterly performance hasn't exactly inspired confidence, and standing outside my door shouting like an undisciplined amateur does nothing to salvage your standing with my board.”

“I understand completely, Mr. Cortez. It won’t happen again. I was merely dealing with a personal distraction,” Vincent babbled frantically, desperate to appease the man who held the financial lifeline to his tech business that I am not completely aware of. I thought Vincent was doing fine...

“A distraction?” Dante echoed, a dangerous edge sharpening his words. “If you’re referring to your personal life, perhaps you should focus on keeping your own house in order so you can perform well in your portfolio. I brought my wife to New York for a private getaway, and I expect absolute peace when I am tending to her.”

“You are with your wife, sir?” Vincent faltered, though there was no real surprise in his tone. Like he already knows who his wife is. “Yes, of course. I didn't realize Mrs. Cortez was accompanying you on this trip.”

“Yes, my wife,” Dante stated, his voice a low, heavy warning that brooked no argument. “She requires my undivided attention, and I don't tolerate anyone, least of all an erratic associate, disrupting our time together. If you can't even manage your own household or keep your surroundings respectable, Smith, I have to question how you manage a multi-million-dollar tech firm.”

“I assure you, Mr. Cortez, my personal matters won't interfere with business again,” Vincent stammered, sweating through his panic. “I’ll handle my personal affairs and take my leave immediately.”

“See that you do,” Dante replied smoothly. “And keep your voice down. My wife and I prefer our privacy.”

“Of course, Mr. Cortez. My deepest apologies again. Enjoy the rest of your stay with Mrs. Cortez.”

Dante slammed the door shut, locking it firmly behind him, and started walking back down the hallway toward the bed. A slow, triumphant smirk played on his dark, pierced lips, but my mind was spinning in chaotic circles, completely derailed by what I had just heard.

Vincent hadn't sounded confused by the mention of a wife at all. He had acknowledged it with the practiced, submissive ease of a man who already knew. The realization hit me like a physical blow, freezing the blood in my veins.

Dante stopped at the edge of the bed, looking down at me with absolute ownership in his dark eyes.

“He won't bother us again,” Dante said quietly.

My breath caught sharply in my throat. I clutched the white sheet tighter around my bare chest, my eyes narrowing as the heavy, suffocating confusion boiled over into outright panic.

“Are you married?”