All Chapters of The Bride He Bought : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

𝘿𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙀 I don’t get out of the car. The engine's been killed for two minutes now, but I remain seated, with arms crossed and eyes forward. My fingers drum against my forearm, it's an idle beat, an attempt to contain the irritation swelling inside me. I can wait her out. Let her think I’m not home. Let her get tired of standing there like a stray cat in front of the gate. Maybe she’d wander off into the night, back to whatever hell she clawed herself out of this time. But that would be weakness. Hiding is for cowards. And I’m not a coward. Still, I wonder, bitterly, who the hell let her in? I'd given my security team, strict instructions not to ever let Nichole in after the last incident. But obviously, my order was ignored. Why in the world I'm I surrounded by incompetent people? Someone's getting fired tonight The last time we spoke face to face, she had screamed at me. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying so much. She'd clawed at me, her voice echoing a

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 “You’re Dante Moretti’s girlfriend.” The other woman, who called the attention of the one who just spoke, brightens at the words of her colleague. "Yeah! it's her. You're his new girl." She states,her eyes shining with surprise. Shit! They've probably seen the kiss. I start shaking my head, laughing awkwardly “No, I’m not,” I say, "You're probably mistaking me for someone else." I explain. I can pass for someone else, the pictures where unclear after all. The woman behind the counter, probably in her late twenties, raises an eyebrow and smirks as she taps away at her phone. She slides it across the counter to me like it's a card. “Sure you’re not?” She flips the phone around and swipes to a new set of photos. “Here you are, just yesterday, at that restaurant with him. And this one… looks pretty cozy.” I skeptically pull her phone closer. Yesterday? what yesterday? I know the one with the kiss is on the net, but what is she talking about? I look down and m

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 Dante cocks his head to the side, just… looking at me. He doesn’t say anything. Instead he just watches. His arms are on the armrest of the black leather chair like he’s on a throne, and I’m the entertainment. His gaze doesn’t blink. Neither do his eyes twitch. They just keep me captive on this chair, and suddenly, I feel so small and insignificant. I look away when he finally breaks his gaze. My heart pounds insanely as I try to quietly catch my breath. The effect this man has on me, it can't be normal. “You were so defiant the last time we spoke, Miss Vance.” My head snaps up. Of course, he’d say that. Of course he’d poke. That’s what men like him do, poke until you bleed. I vaguely knew he wouldn't make this easy. I'd insulted him, it's only fair he taunts me for a while. “I’m doing this for my dad…” I say quickly, trying to keep my voice steady, but it’s already cracking. “His situation has gotten worse. If I can’t pay his bills, he’ll be discharged with

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 “Hello, Miss Vance.” His voice rumbles low and deep, smooth with that faint Italian lilt I haven’t heard in days. It slithers through my veins like warm brandy, making my heart leap straight into my throat. I swallow, pressing the phone tighter to my ear. “Hi,” I stammer, glancing at my father’s still form on the hospital bed. I quietly step out of the room, closing the door gently behind me. “It’s been days,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I...I... thought you’d…” “Forgotten?” he cuts in, with a drawl, “I haven't forgotten Miss Vance. I was giving you time to take care of your father. I assume he’s well now?” “Yes,” I answer quickly, uncertain whether I should follow it up with a thank you. But the moment evaporates before I can decide. “Good,” he says. “Because your little break has come to an end. You’ll be fulfilling your end.” His voice is dry and clipped. As if he's talking to another one of his employees. My fingers twitch around the phone. For a m

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 The moment Dante leaves the room, I release a breath I didn't even know I was holding. My chest rises and falls like I've been underwater for too long. The stylist, Jean Claude, claps his hands together dramatically. "Mon Dieu, he is so handsome, no? That man, he walks in, and poof! The air changes." Yeah. It does. He does. I admit grudgingly. I lean back in the chair, trying to slow my racing thoughts. Dante Moretti looked like he'd stepped out of a fantasy, in his perfectly tailored black suit, his black hair swept back...in simple terms, he looked breathtaking. He's a good looking man and he knows it. Once, a man like him would have turned me into a stammering puddle. But not now. Not after everything he's done. Now, he just makes me feel sick. Jean Claude is back to fussing with my hair, gently spritzing it. "Mr. Moretti is right about one thing. You have beautiful curls. So voluminous but so, so... wild." "A wig is fine," I say quickly, softly. Almost like