Chapter 10 Time to Go Back

Olivia Fernandes

The phone rang, and the loud, unmistakable sound of Chopin echoed through the loft, slicing through the comfortable silence that enveloped us. I flinched, and Dante frowned, surprised to hear a call at such a late hour. It wasn't like him to get phone calls in the middle of the night.

"Sorry, I won't be long," he murmured, pressing a quick, distracted kiss to my lips before moving toward the counter where the phone buzzed.

I watched from a distance as he picked up the device and studied the screen with curiosity. The crease between his brows deepened, and in that subtle change, I sensed something had shifted. Still dazed from the whirlwind of sensations flooding my body, I tried to read his expression.

"Is everything okay?" I asked as I slipped my lingerie back on, my skin still tingling from his touch.

He raised a hand gently, asking for a moment as he answered. But it took only a second for the tension to settle in his face. His eyes sharpened, and his body stiffened.

"We need to go. My son's in trouble." His voice was low and urgent. He came back to me, a flicker of regret in his gaze. "I'm so sorry to cut this short. Please know this isn't what I wanted."

His hand cupped my face as he left a slow, lingering kiss on my lips. There was tenderness in that gesture, one that left a small ache behind.

"Don't worry, Dante. I just hope everything's okay with your son," I said, trying to ignore the sudden knot forming in my stomach.

That's when it hit me- Dante had a family. And if he had a son... did that mean he also had a wife?

As we both got dressed, an uneasy silence settled between us. Dante moved with quiet urgency, clearly anxious. I followed his rhythm, even as thoughts raced through my mind like wildfire.

My night had flipped upside down in the span of a few minutes. What began as pleasure and discovery was now tangled in uncertainty.

Lucas. Shit! I thought, heat rushing to my face.

I had completely forgotten about him after learning about the mysterious girlfriend he had been hiding. And remembering that made me feel my cheeks flush with anger.

But then came the bitter irony, had secrets now, too.

I had no right to be jealous of Lucas. Not anymore. Not after Dante.

That contradiction lodged itself in my chest like a stone. It wouldn't be so easy to shake off.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" I asked, hoping to ease Dante's obvious stress.

He looked like he was ready to sprint out the door. And in a moment of selfishness I couldn't blame myself for, given how little I truly knew him wondered if he regretted what had just happened between us.

But in the elevator, on our way to the garage, Dante caught me by surprise. He pulled me into his arms with force and kissed me deeply, urgently, as though trying to hold onto what was slipping away.

"I didn't want to let you go so soon," he whispered, resting his forehead against mine with a heavy sigh.

My heart thundered in my chest. That simple, innocent act of touching his face suddenly felt more intimate than anything we'd done that night.

And that scared me. Because only one other person had ever made me feel this way: Lucas.

Every time he hugged me, ran his fingers through my hair, or showered me with compliments, that same warmth would spread through me.

Now I was standing at a crossroads, unsure which path to follow.

But before I could spiral into expectations I had no right to entertain, I reminded myself of what Dante and I had agreed to from the start:

It was just a one-night thing.

I had to hold onto that truth like a mantra-repeat it as many times as needed until it sank in. But I couldn't lie... Dante had been so kind, so respectful, that reducing this to just a casual memory suddenly felt much harder than I'd imagined.

Belt fastened, seated in the car, I realized I might have stepped into something far more complicated than I had bargained for.

"Would you mind if I stopped somewhere before taking you home?" Dante asked, starting the engine with clear urgency.

"Not at all," I said, though my tongue was practically itching. "I don't mean to pry, but... is it something serious?"

I couldn't hold it in. Curiosity gnawed at me from the inside.

"My son got into a fight. The police were called, but I think it's just procedural," he said with a faint, sideways smile.

"Your son... I see," I mumbled, the thought escaping my lips.

"Don't worry'm not married," Dante added with a wide smile, amused by my poorly hidden concern.

"Thank God," I laughed with relief. "So, our date ends at the police station?"

I teased, lightening the mood. Dante chuckled and shook his head.

"Not how I pictured the night ending either..." he said, steering the car into the police station's parking lot. "You can wait here, if you'd like. I'll just go in, handle things, and take you home. His car's here, so he can drive himself."

I nodded, deciding to stay in the car. But what I saw through the window a few minutes later froze me to my core.

Dante had reached the front door of the station, where he immediately began arguing with a man around his age. The tension between them was palpable.

And then, the younger man turned around.

That's all it took. One look.

And the damage was done.

Dante was Lucas's father.