Dora had barely taken a step up the stairs—intending to climb instead of using the elevator—when she heard Dante's voice behind her. His tone was calm, factual, and carried that steady authority she was slowly learning to recognize.
"Today is our wedding day."
The sound of his footsteps drew closer, steady, deliberate, until she could feel his presence right beside her. Slowly, she turned to look at him. His face was composed, his dark eyes holding that familiar calm detachment that somehow made her even more nervous.
Then, without the slightest hesitation, he added, "We should sleep together."
The words hit her like a physical blow. Dora's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. For a long moment, she could only stare at him, her mind struggling to catch up with what she had just heard.
Surely, she had misheard.
