Chapter 8 - The Fire in the Dark
The thunderstorm raged outside Dante’s oceanfront estate, lightning illuminating the vast living room in sharp flashes of silver.
Alex stood by the fireplace, watching the embers glow. The victory at the Met had been intoxicating, but the raw violence of the underworld she had just witnessed left her trembling with heightened sensation.
Footsteps echoed softly on the hardwood. Dante entered the room, holding two glasses of red wine. He had discarded his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his black shirt, looking dangerously undone.
"You aren't drinking your wine," he observed, handing her a crystal glass.
Alex took the glass, her fingers brushing his. The contact sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.
"I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop," she admitted softly. "For three years, I lived in a world where everything was fake. Preston’s love, his promises, his ambition. Being around you... it's real. Terribly, dangerously real."
Dante set his glass down on the mantelpiece and stepped directly into her space. The warmth radiating from him was intoxicating.
"I don't play games, Alexandra," he murmured, his voice dropping into that dark, velvety register that made her knees weak. "I don't make promises I don't intend to keep. When I told you I would protect you, I meant it with every breath in my body."
"Why me, Dante?" she whispered, looking up into his fierce, possessive gaze. "You could have destroyed Kensington without saving me."
Dante reached up, his large, rough hand cradling her cheek. His thumb stroked the curve of her lower lip.
"Because the moment I saw you in that ballroom three years ago, standing proudly among those hypocrites, I knew you didn't belong in their shallow world," Dante confessed, his dark eyes consuming her. "You belonged with someone who would burn the world down before letting anyone harm a single hair on your head."
Alex’s breath hitched. "Dante..."
"I told you that you were leaving with me," he whispered, leaning down until his lips hovered a fraction of an inch from hers. "Tell me to stop, Alexandra. Because if you don't, I will never let you go."
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Alex didn't speak. Instead, she rose onto her tiptoes, tangled her fingers into his thick, dark hair, and pulled his mouth down to hers.
The kiss was an explosion of raw, untamed passion. Dante groaned deep in his throat, wrapping his powerful arms around her waist and lifting her against him. He kissed her with a possessive, breathtaking hunger that wiped away every memory of the past. Her hands clutched his broad shoulders as the fire roared in the hearth, sealing their dangerous, undeniable bond in the heart of the storm.
