The morning sun did not bring warmth; it brought a cold, clinical reality. Anna woke with her lips still tingling, the ghost of Dante's possessive kiss haunting her skin. But when she stepped into the library at 6:00 AM, the man she found there was not the one who had gripped her waist with desperate hunger.
Dante was back in his armor. He was dressed in a three-piece suit of charcoal wool, every button fastened, every hair in place. He didn't look up when she entered. The air in the room was so cold it felt brittle.
"You're late," he said, his voice a flat, dead rasp.
"Dante, about last night—"
"There is no 'last night,'" he interrupted, finally looking at her. His eyes were like chips of flint, devoid of the fire that had consumed them hours before. "There was a momentary lapse in discipline. It will not happen again."
He stood up and walked toward her, but there was no magnetism this time—only menace. He tossed a stack of handwritten notes onto her desk.
"Isabella complained that the library was dusty. From now on, you will arrive an hour early to scrub the floors and polish the shelves before you begin your typing. If the work is not finished by midnight, you will not be permitted to eat."
Anna felt the slap of his words more than a physical blow. "You're punishing me? For something we both did?"
"I am reminding you of your place," he hissed, leaning down so his face was inches from hers. The scent of him—that intoxicating cedar and tobacco—made her stomach flip, but his expression was one of pure, calculated cruelty. "You are a slum-girl I found in a box. You are a tool I use to keep my records. Do not mistake a moment of boredom on my part for a change in your status."
Isabella sauntered into the room then, wearing a silk wrap and a triumphant grin. She saw the way Dante was towering over a trembling Anna and laughed.
"Oh, Dante, darling. Did you tell her about the change in her duties? I've decided she should also handle the laundry for my delicate silks. Mrs. Halloway is far too clumsy with them."
Dante didn't look at Isabella, but he nodded. "Whatever you require, Isabella. Anna will handle it."
Anna's heart shattered. He wasn't just being cold; he was weaponizing Isabella to humiliate her. He was overcompensating for his weakness by trying to break her soul.
"I won't do it," Anna whispered.
Dante stepped even closer, his shadow swallowing her. "Then you can go to the North Cellars and see how we treat those who refuse to follow orders. The choice is yours, Anna. Scrub the floors, or join the men in the chairs."
He turned his back on her, dismissing her existence. Anna looked at Isabella's smug face and then at Dante's broad, unyielding back. The jealousy was gone, replaced by a cold, hard resolve.
Leo was right. This wasn't a home. This was a gilded cage, and the man she thought she saw was just a more beautiful version of the monsters in the slums.