Chiara woke up alone. The cold side of the bed where Dante had slept was a silent relief—her body wasn’t sore, and for a brief, foolish second, she almost believed last night hadn’t happened. But the hollow ache in her throat told the truth. She moved carefully, like the air itself might shatter her, until she found him in the kitchen, stirring a pot like he hadn’t broken her just hours ago.He turned at the sound of her footsteps, smiling too easily. “Good morning, Darling. I made you tea—for your throat—”“Does this seem like a joke to you?” Her voice cracked with anger, though her legs kept moving, dragging her closer to him.Dante’s smile faltered, his voice turning cold. “Maybe it is, Darling. What part of your punishment did you find amusing?” His gaze locked on hers, sharp and cutting. She flinched. He saw it—and smiled wider. “There it is.”He lifted the cup toward her like an offering. “Now, instead of picking a fight you’ll lose, come drink your tea. Your throat must be raw.
Last Updated : 2025-04-13 Read more