DANTE'S POV
The rage burned harshly, sparking under my skin, hot and irrational. I had been standing at the edge of the ballroom staircase, a glass of whiskey turning warm in my hands, my entire world narrowed to a single point: her.
Sophia Morales. Laughing.
The sound felt like a blade, sharp and unexpected. It cut through the dull vibe of the party and it did something to my chest, something painful, something familiar and tight. She was leaning against the bar, her head titled back, her emerald green dress clinging to every curve as she laughed at something the idiot bartender said.
Why did it feel like a physical blow? Why did the sight of her, bright and so full of life with another man, make me want to put my fist through the nearest wall? She was an employee. A tool. A means to an end I hadn't quite figured out yet. Yet, watching that man draw a smile from her—a real one, not a tight, professional mask she wore for me— made something primal and possessive awaken to life inside me.
And now, I was even behind her and she couldn't even notice, she didn't seem to sense me at all. Her entire attention was on him.
Was she that captivated? Or was it something worse? A cold dread washed over me. Was she not just flirting, maybe revealing secrets to him? Was she familiar with him?
The thought of her betraying her contract snapped the last thread I was desperately trying to hold.
"Having Fun, Morales?" I bit out the words, my voice harsher than I intended , laced with an emotion I couldn't name. "We have to go now, Morales."
She jumped, startled, finally turning to face me. Her eyes were wide, still sparking with remnants of her laugh. "But, Sir, the party—"
I cut her off my temper flaring "But nothing," I snarled, leaning in close. The scent of her– jasmine and something uniquely familiar– hit me, disorienting me even further. "You work for me. When I say we leave, we fucking leave. You don't have the right to question me."
The light in her eyes blew out like a candle. The smile vanished, replaced by that professional, robotic mask. Good. That was what I wanted. Wasn't it?
She stood up, and to my utter fury, she had the audacity to give a small apologetic wave to the bartender. And that fool had the nerve to wave back, a sympathetic look on his face. The urge to have him fired, to have him removed from the city, was so intense it tasted like metal in my mouth.
"Walk faster, Morales," I commanded, striding toward the exit without looking back. "I pay you for those legs to keep up."
I heard the frantic click-clack of her heels hasten on the marble floor as she scurried to catch up, finally appearing at my side, slightly breathless. I allowed myself a sidelong glance.
The dress…God, the dress. In the bright light to the room, it was a masterpiece of temptation. The emerald silk hugged her every curve, emphasizing her small waist that looked like it could fit perfectly in my hands and the flare of her hips. The slit that ran up her thigh, offering a glimpse of her toned, bright skin with every step she took. She was… astonishing. A confusing, infuriating, breathtaking trap and a part of me wanted to fall into it.
What is wrong with me?
The question screamed in my head. How was this woman– this stranger with her boldly defying eyes–getting under my skin. I'd had countless assistants, more experienced, more obedient, but none made me feel like this. I'd made sure of it. I built walls around my heart after Ava died, high and impenetrable , and I never let anyone get close.
The only person I had ever loved was my Ava. Her memory was a sacred tomb and I was it's guardian. No one could change that, no one could make me feel like that ever.
This…this emotion for Sophia was a betrayal. Awakeness. Dangerous distraction.
I tore my gaze away from her focusing straight ahead, my jaw clenched so tight it ached. I canceled the thoughts. I buried the heat, the anger, the unwelcome attraction deep down, locking it in the same dark place I had locked everything else away.
But as her skin touched mine as she walked past me to the car door, my fingers brushing against the small of her back, a phantom touch ignited on my skin. And, for a terrifying second, the ghost of a memory resurfaced–the way Ava used to shiver at my touch, she did exactly the same. What the hell was wrong with me?
The door slammed shut drawing me away from my thoughts and trapping us in the silent, charged darkness of the car.
"Drive."