Chapter 66 – Private Bliss
The morning sunlight spilled lazily across the terrace, catching in the soft folds of the linen curtains and sending golden streaks across the wooden floor. It was quiet here—no cameras, no producers, no rivals scheming around every corner. Just the gentle rustle of leaves in the garden below, the distant hum of the city, and the rare, perfect hush of uninterrupted time. Dante leaned casually against the railing, his silhouette strong and familiar, framed by the morning glow. I could feel the warmth of the sun on my shoulders, but more than that, I felt the warmth radiating from him, a comfort I hadn't realized I'd missed this much until this moment.
I approached cautiously, barefoot and wary that any sudden movement might shatter this fragile slice of peace. "Are you seriously going to stand there, looking impossibly handsome in the sunlight, while I inch closer like some nervous debutante?" I teased, a smirk tugging at my lips despite the lingering butterflies.
Dante's grin widened, eyes lighting up with that mischievous glint I had come to know as a precursor to some playful, usually heart-fluttering stunt. "Nervous, are we? I'd say it's cute, but I'm going to take it as a warning—someone might try to kidnap you right out of my sight." He gestured dramatically toward the horizon, then pretended to scan the area for invisible threats, which made me laugh despite myself.
"You do realize there's no one here, right?" I said, shaking my head, though the corners of my mouth betrayed me. "Just you, me, and the sun, plotting to blind me with your good looks."
"Perfect," he said, stepping closer, closing the distance between us until the playful tone in his voice deepened. "Exactly how I like it—private, uninterrupted, entirely ours."
I felt my chest tighten at that, a reminder of everything we had endured just to arrive at this moment. Weeks of tension, jealousy, public humiliation, and emotional push-and-pull had led to this one unguarded morning where we could breathe, really breathe, without the show dictating every move. My hand brushed against his as we stood near the railing, almost by accident, and a familiar spark shot through me.
"Dante…" I began, unsure how to articulate the mix of relief and longing that surged through me. "I… I didn't realize how much I needed a moment like this. Without cameras, without the chaos… just us."
He looked down at me, expression softening, the teasing replaced by something deep, something raw. "I know," he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Neither of us has had a moment like this in forever. And I want to savor it, every second." His thumb traced circles over the back of my hand, the simplest gesture carrying weight I could feel in my bones.
We moved toward the edge of the terrace, sitting on the wide wooden bench, legs dangling over the side. Dante pulled me close, our shoulders touching lightly at first, then more intentionally as if claiming the space around us. I leaned against him, the familiar curve of his body providing a grounding that words couldn't capture.
"Remember that day we first met?" he asked softly, not looking at me directly but rather staring into the distance. "You had that ridiculous look of determination, like you were plotting the downfall of the universe, one coffee cup at a time."
I snorted, rolling my eyes playfully. "And you were the charmingly oblivious disaster who somehow walked right into my path, chaos magnet style. I should've run the other way, but apparently, I have a thing for disasters."
He laughed, a rich, warm sound that made my chest flutter. "And apparently, I have a thing for stubborn, clever women who can actually keep up with my chaos."
Our laughter faded into a comfortable silence, the kind that doesn't need words because it carries understanding, shared history, and unspoken promises. Dante shifted slightly, turning toward me fully, his arm now comfortably draped around my shoulders. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that somehow made everything else—the worries, the past rivalries, the public scrutiny—fade into irrelevance.
"Do you ever think about… everything that happened? The chaos, the shows, the rumors?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper. "It feels… unbelievable that we made it here."
He pulled me closer, lips brushing the top of my head in a gentle, almost reverent kiss. "Every single day," he admitted. "But it makes this moment… even more worth it. We survived it all. And now, we have this—no one to interfere, no scripts to follow, no eyes to judge us. Just us."
My chest tightened as I absorbed his words, the weight of our journey pressing down and then lifting in the same heartbeat. I tilted my head to look at him, and the mischievous, teasing glint returned to his eyes. "You know," he said, nudging me lightly with his shoulder, "I'm thinking we should make the most of this freedom. No cameras, no one watching… just a little fun."
"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. "What kind of fun are we talking about?"
"The kind where you can be completely ridiculous without anyone judging," he said with a grin. He grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet, then spun me around playfully. "Dance like no one's watching. Sing like we're the only two people on the planet. Laugh until we forget what deadlines even are."
I laughed, surrendering to the pure absurdity and joy of the moment. We danced in the soft morning sunlight, our movements clumsy at first but increasingly in sync, like two halves finding their rhythm after months of dissonance. Dante twirled me, dipped me, and spun me again, his hands warm and steady, grounding me even as I felt myself floating.
Between spins, we collapsed into a heap on the terrace bench, laughing so hard our sides ached. I looked up at him, hair mussed, eyes sparkling, heart racing. "I can't believe this is real," I gasped, half-laughing, half-serious.
"It is," he said simply, brushing a thumb across my cheek. "Every second. And it's ours, completely."
We leaned into each other, foreheads touching, letting the laughter fade into soft sighs of contentment. The world outside might still have cameras, rivals, and public scrutiny, but here, in this tiny bubble of morning light and shared joy, none of that mattered. We had each other.
"Promise me," I murmured, my voice barely audible, "that no matter what comes next, we'll always find moments like this. No scripts, no chaos, just… us."
Dante's hand cupped my face gently, his thumb brushing over my lips in a tender, lingering gesture. "I promise," he said, eyes locked on mine, unwavering and sincere. "We'll carve out our little world, no matter what. Because after everything, you're the only thing that matters."
I felt my heart swell at his words, the tension of the past months melting away, replaced by a calm, profound happiness I had thought impossible. I leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, tasting the sweetness of certainty, trust, and love finally realized.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, warm light bathing us as we remained in our embrace, laughter fading into whispered conversations, gentle touches, and quiet moments of contented sighs. There was no drama here, no scheming rivals, no producers demanding spectacle. Just two people, completely, undeniably, blissfully in love.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I realized that sometimes, the most powerful victories weren't measured in accolades, ratings, or public approval. They were measured in these quiet, stolen moments of intimacy, trust, and shared joy—the moments where love wasn't just a word on a screen or a headline in a feed, but something tangible, breathing, and breathtakingly real.
Dante wrapped his arms around me, holding me close, and whispered, "Welcome to our private bliss."
I smiled, burying my face against his chest. "It feels perfect," I murmured. "Finally, it feels perfect."
And in that sunlight-drenched terrace, far from cameras, chaos, and judgment, it truly was.
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