All Chapters of The Ceo’s Unwanted Claim: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Breakfast was not a meal. It was an interrogation disguised as dining.Dante took me to a small bistro two blocks from the tower. It was the kind of place where the eggs cost thirty dollars and the silence cost even more. He sat across from me in the booth and watched me with eyes that felt like physical weights pressing on my skin.He had not let go of my hand since we left the Archives.He held my fingers trapped against the white tablecloth. His thumb rubbed over my knuckles in a slow and rhythmic circle that was meant to be soothing but felt like a threat. He was checking for a pulse. He was checking for a tremor. He was checking for the lie he knew was hidden somewhere inside me.I tried to eat the toast on my plate. It tasted like sawdust. Every time I swallowed, I felt the phantom sensation of the sticky note burning against my chest even though I had left it hidden in the box.I had left the address of the Yakuza front in a cardboard box in the Archives.It was safe there. Nob

"She is lying!" I cried. "She hates me! She planted the idea in your head!""Does she hate you enough to write this note?" Dante asked. He threw the crumpled paper at me. It hit my chest and fell into my lap. "Does she hate you enough to mimic your handwriting?"I looked at the paper ball. It was my handwriting. I could not deny that."I wrote the note," I admitted. "But I didn't make the call. I swear on my sister's life, Dante. I didn't make the call.""Do not speak of her," Dante hissed.He stopped pacing. He looked at me. His eyes were cold again. The fire was gone. It was replaced by something worse. Absolute detachment."You used her name to lie to me before," he said. "You have lost the right to use it as collateral."He walked to the desk. He picked up the phone. He ripped the cord out of the wall.He walked to my computer. He grabbed the monitor and shoved it off the desk. It crashed to the floor. The screen shattered. Glass sprayed across the linoleum.I screamed and covered

"You do not tell me no," he snarled.He yanked me toward him. My body collided with his. He twisted my arm behind my back, forcing me up against his chest. He held my wrist so tight I could feel my pulse throbbing against his thumb."You are hurting me!" I gasped."I am holding you," Dante corrected. "If I wanted to hurt you, Evelina, I would snap this bone like a dry twig."He squeezed.Pain shot up my arm. It was sharp and white-hot."Dante, please!" I sobbed. "Stop! You're crushing it!"He did not stop. He stared down at me. His eyes were devoid of mercy."You tried to run," he hissed. "You tried to find a back door. You tried to sell yourself to a butcher."He jerked my arm up higher. I cried out, tears springing to my eyes."This is the cost," he whispered. "Pain is the cost of treason."He looked at my wrist. The skin was turning white under his grip. He was leaving a mark. Another mark. First the neck. Now the wrist.He wanted me painted in bruises."I didn't call him," I wept.

The carpet in Dante’s office was rough against my knees. It was a high-grade wool blend that probably cost more per square foot than my first car but down here on the floor it felt like sandpaper.I did not look at Dante. I looked at the polished leather of his shoes. I looked at the sharp crease of his trousers. I focused on the physical details because if I focused on the reality of what I was doing I would shatter.I was kneeling.I was kneeling in a glass office in the middle of Manhattan in broad daylight with the door unlocked.Dante sat on the edge of his desk above me. He was silent. His hand rested heavy and hot on the crown of my head. It was a benediction and a curse all at once. He stroked my hair with a slow and rhythmic motion that made my scalp tingle."You want the card," he said.His voice was not angry. It was contemplative. He sounded like a scientist observing a rat in a maze who had finally found the cheese."Yes," I whispered."Look at me."I raised my head.The

He walked out.He walked out of the Archives and into the hallway and he disappeared.I sat there in silence. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would crack my ribs.I looked at the envelope on my desk.It was unassuming. Plain. But it radiated danger.I reached out and touched it. The paper was warm.I opened it.Inside were copies of bank transfers. Signed affidavits. Notarized deeds. It was a smoking gun. It was everything Dante needed to bury Tanaka’s reputation in the West.Why would Tanaka give this to me?It didn't make sense. Unless... unless the information was old news. Unless Tanaka had already scrubbed these accounts and was sacrificing a dead limb to save the body.Or unless he wanted me to trust him more than I feared Dante.I looked at the boxes on the floor. I looked at the envelope.If I used this I could finish the work in an hour. I could be free. I could go back to the penthouse and sleep.If I didn't use it I would be here for days. Dante would come back.