The storm outside had finally thinned into a steady drizzle, but inside Dante's suite, the atmosphere only grew thicker, heavier. Ishani paced like a caged tigress, her wet sari clinging to her curves, eyes flashing with fury. She wanted out. Out of the villa, out of his grip, out of the magnetic pull that made her body betray her mind.
But Dante wasn't giving her the satisfaction. He lounged in a chair by the fire, jacket discarded, shirt sleeves rolled up, dark eyes watching her every move. He looked like a king at ease in his throne, yet every inch of his posture screamed predator waiting for the right moment.
"You'll wear a hole in the carpet," he said lazily, his Italian accent thicker with exhaustion and wine.
"I don't care," she snapped. "As soon as your men confirm it's safe, I'm leaving this suite."
He arched a brow, swirling the glass in his hand. "Leaving? To where? The grounds are crawling with enemies who would love to slit your pretty throat. Or maybe back to your 'clients'? I wonder, Ishani, will they protect you like I did tonight?"
She glared at him, voice cold. "You didn't protect me. You caged me in your arms like a trophy you couldn't afford to lose."
His smirk widened, infuriatingly calm. "Semantics."
Her blood boiled. She turned toward the bed, grabbing one of the spare pillows. "Fine. I'll sleep on the sofa."
Dante's chair creaked as he rose, moving with the lazy grace of a man who already knew the outcome. In two strides, he stood between her and the sofa, blocking her path. His height shadowed her, his presence filling the room like smoke.
"No." His voice was soft but final.
Her eyes narrowed. "No?"
"You'll sleep there." He nodded toward the massive bed draped in dark silk sheets.
She laughed bitterly. "With you? Keep dreaming."
His lips curved in that dangerous half-smile, the one that always left her pulse tripping. "Dolcezza, I don't need to dream. I make reality bend."
She shoved at his chest, but he barely moved. "I will not share a bed with you."
Dante leaned down, his mouth hovering by her ear. "Then stay awake all night watching me. Either way, you'll be right there beside me."
Her breath hitched, fury and heat colliding in her chest. "You're insufferable."
"And you," he murmured, brushing past her, pulling back the covers with deliberate calm, "are already trembling at the thought."
Her fists clenched. "I am not—"
"Then prove it," he interrupted smoothly, climbing into the bed, settling against the headboard like a man entirely at home. He stretched, the movement drawing her unwilling gaze over the ripple of muscle under his shirt. "Lie down. Show me how little I matter."
Ishani's throat tightened. She wanted to spit in his face, storm out, anything but bend. Yet his words hooked into her pride. She would not let him see her falter. Lifting her chin, she marched to the other side of the bed, yanked the pillow into place, and slid under the sheets—keeping her back rigidly turned to him.
For a moment, silence. Only the rain pattering on the windows, the soft crackle of fire. Then she felt it—his eyes, heavy on her back, tracking every breath.
"You're too close," she muttered into the darkness.
He chuckled low, the sound curling down her spine. "I haven't even touched you."
"Good. Don't."
"Tempting challenge."
She groaned, gripping the pillow tighter. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"When your silence says more than your words."
She twisted suddenly, glaring at him across the sheets. Their faces were inches apart, his gaze locked on hers, sharp and unrelenting. For a heartbeat, the tension snapped taut, too tight to ignore. Her chest brushed his with each inhale, their lips dangerously near.
"This means nothing," she whispered, as if to convince herself.
His smirk softened into something darker, hungrier. "Then why are you whispering it like a prayer?"
Heat pooled low in her stomach. Her hand twitched, wanting to push him away, yet frozen by the way his eyes devoured her.
Seconds stretched. Neither moved. The storm outside rumbled faintly, the fire hissed, and still they hovered on the razor's edge between fight and surrender.
Finally, Ishani jerked back, rolling onto her side with her back to him again. "Stay on your side."
Dante lay back as well, but his voice came soft, husky through the shadows. "One day, avvocato, you'll stop drawing lines. And that night, I'll erase them all."
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes wide open in the dark, cursing her body for betraying her mind. Sleep would not come. Not with him inches away, his presence pressing against her like heat and shadow.
And though she would never admit it, she wasn't sure if she feared the enemies outside… or the war he was waging inside her more.