Chapter 4 Banquet 2

THE BATHROOM

Then...

Footsteps.

Heavy. Measured. Coming fast.

The man's smug expression faltered just as Dante appeared in the doorway, eyes cold enough to freeze fire.

"Out," Dante said, voice low and lethal.

The man hesitated.

"I won't say it twice."

The other man paled slightly, adjusted his jacket, and slipped past Dante without another word, the arrogance draining from his posture.

Dante didn't move for a long moment. He just stood there, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. Then, without a word, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

"You shouldn't wander alone in a place like this," he said finally.

Her eyes narrowed. "I didn't think I'd be followed."

His jaw ticked, and he crossed the space between them. "They smell weakness," he murmured, his gaze burning into hers. "And you look like prey when you're scared."

Ariella's voice trembled, but her chin lifted. "Then maybe you should stop bringing me to places filled with predators."

Dante's eyes darkened. But instead of replying, he turned and opened the door.

"Let's go," he said simply.

And this time, when she walked beside him, his hand didn't just rest at her lower back. It gripped tightly.

Firm. Protective. Possessive.

Ariella remained silent as they exited through the back, leaving the smoky haze and power struggles of the club behind. The loud music faded with the door closing, replaced by the hum of the city and the sound of the engine.

A sleek black car waited at the curb, and Dante opened the door for her without a word. She slid inside, still feeling the adrenaline from the earlier confrontation in the restroom and the intensity in Dante's eyes, not just anger, but something deeper, more dangerous. He joined her soon after, the door clicking shut with finality.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he maintained his poise and demeanor, sitting beside her in silence as the car began to move.

"Somewhere quieter," he replied.

The city lights blurred as the car pulled away, and Ariella stared out the window, her reflection faint against the glass. This world felt cold and harsh, but with Dante beside her, there was an undeniable sense of control, a tether in the midst of chaos.

Eventually, the car stopped in front of a tall, private hotel, no signs, no questions asked. Dante helped her out and led her inside, through a marble lobby and into a private elevator. The air was thick with silence, intentional and heavy.

The elevator doors opened to a penthouse bathed in soft amber light. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city. The scent of leather and cedarwood filled the room, luxurious, masculine, serene.

Dante loosened his tie and walked to the bar. "Drink?"

Ariella shook her head, stepping toward the window. "Why did you bring me here tonight?"

He poured himself a drink, swirling it slowly. "Because I needed them to see you."

She turned toward him. "Why?"

His eyes locked on hers. "Because no one touches what's mine."

Her breath hitched. The possessiveness in his voice was unmistakable, sharp and unapologetic.

"You let that stripper touch you," she said, her voice barely audible.

He took a sip from his glass. "I let her think she could."

A pause hung between them.

"She wasn't the one I was watching."

Ariella's stomach fluttered. She hadn't expected that. He crossed the room toward her, slow and deliberate, stopping just inches away.

"You sat there, surrounded by predators, and didn't flinch. You held your ground." His eyes dropped to her lips. "That was the real message."

"To them?" she asked, barely breathing.

"To me."

Ariella swallowed hard, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

Dante reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You didn't run."

"I wanted to."

"But you didn't."

The silence that followed was thick, charged.

Then his lips were on hers, hard, demanding. The tension, the heat, the unspoken danger, it all poured into that kiss. She gripped his shirt, her body responding before her mind could catch up.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Dante rested his forehead against hers. Without a word, he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his broad, muscular chest. His masculinity was undeniable, raw, and powerful.

Ariella felt the weight of the moment, but as his shirt came off, she turned her head away, unable to watch as he undressed in front of her. She focused on the view outside the window instead, trying to steady her breathing, her heart racing as the room seemed to pulse with tension.

Dante didn't seem to care. He simply walked to the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, leaving the room with a quiet, deliberate stride. The door closed behind him, and the silence stretched out, thick with anticipation.