Alora's POV Okay, I admit it: Dante Bellini is a big, fat, humongous, motherf***ing pig! I was clad in a beautiful, figure-hugging, knee-length red dress, In a man's arms, his hands wrapped protectively around my waist—warm and firm—while my hands wrapped around his shoulders, masculine and broad. We swayed to the soft background music, a blend of violin and piano, in a beautiful garden. There was a decorated dinner table behind us, candles lit. The aroma of not only food but nature wafted through our nostrils. His eyes didn’t leave mine even for a second, and finally, I could make out his face—Dante Bellini. He ran his hand along my face. "Alora, I love you so much, and I want you to tell me. Tell me how you feel about me." His voice was soft. Softer than I’d ever heard or imagined he could speak. "Dante," I stuttered, trying to pull away from him, but he gripped me tight and pressed our bodies together. "What are you doing?" I gasped, my hands landing on his toned chest. "I'
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