Chapter 7 - The Lion’s DenJulianna’s two thugs didn't hesitate. They instantly threw their hands into the air and dropped to their knees on the marble floor, trembling.
Julianna backed up against the front door, her face completely drained of color, shaking like a leaf.
“Dante... Dante, please!” she sobbed, dropping her designer bag. “I just came for my things! I didn't mean anything!”
Dante walked slowly into the foyer. His steps were deliberate, echoing in the dead silence. He handed his firearm to the lead security guard beside him without looking.
He stopped two inches away from Julianna. His frame towered over her, radiating a terrifying wave of dark power.
“You abandoned our daughter,” Dante said softly. “You broke her heart. You made her silent for three days.”
“I made a mistake!” Julianna cried. “I was scared! You were always busy, always working—”
“If you ever come within five hundred yards of this estate again,” Dante interrupted, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper that chilled my bone marrow, “I will make sure you vanish so completely that not even your family will remember your name. Do you understand me?”
Julianna nodded frantically, tears smearing her heavy makeup.
Dante flicked his wrist toward the door. “Throw them out.”
The security guards grabbed the two thugs and hauled Julianna out the front doors, slamming them shut behind them.
The foyer fell dead silent.
Dante stood near the bottom of the stairs, his shoulders heavy, his chest heaving as he slowly fought to regain control of his breathing. The raw, violent adrenaline that had filled the room began to dissipate, leaving behind a cold, hollow silence.
He slowly turned his head and looked up at the balcony.
I was still standing there, holding onto the oak railing, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I had never seen a gun fired in real life. I had never seen a man command life and death with a single sentence.
Dante walked up the grand staircase, step by step, until he stood right in front of me.
He looked at my pale face, noticing the tremor in my hands.
“Did she hurt you?” Dante asked quietly. His voice had instantly softened, the lethal killer vanishing, replaced once again by the father.
“No,” I whispered, swallowing hard. “Where’s Sophia?”
“She’s in the sunroom,” I said. “She didn't hear anything. I told her to stay there.”
Dante let out a long, heavy sigh. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool wooden pillar beside us.
“I’m sorry, Clara,” he murmured softly. “You shouldn't have had to see that. You shouldn't be exposed to my world.”
I looked at him—a man who bore the weight of an empire on his shoulders, fighting off wolves outside while trying to protect his innocent daughter inside.
“I wasn't scared for myself, Dante,” I said softly, using his first name for the very first time.
He opened his eyes, looking at me in surprise. “You weren't?”
“I was scared for Sophia,” I said gently. “She just started trusting the world again today. If that woman had gotten to her...”
Dante reached out, his large, warm hand lightly cupping the back of my hand on the railing. The warmth of his skin grounded my shaking nerves instantly.
“You stood on these stairs and blocked her,” Dante murmured, his eyes searching mine with intense emotion. “You protected my daughter like she was your own flesh and blood.”
“I promised you I would keep her safe,” I said quietly.
Dante stepped closer. The proximity was intoxicating—he smelled of expensive cologne, rain, and faint gunpowder. His thumb gently brushed against the pulse point on my wrist.
“You’re unlike any woman I have ever met, Clara Sterling,” he whispered softly.
My breath caught in my throat. The air between us crackled with a sudden, overwhelming heat that had nothing to do with danger and everything to do with the undeniable attraction pulling us together.
Before either of us could say another word, a small patter of footsteps echoed down the hallway.
“Clara? Daddy?” Sophia’s small voice called out.
Dante pulled his hand back instantly, stepping turning toward his daughter with a warm, bright smile.
“Over here, sweetheart!” Dante called out, lifting Sophia into his arms as she ran to him.
She hugged his neck tightly, kissing his cheek. “Is the bad lady gone?”
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Dante froze for a second, then looked at me. I gave him a subtle nod, letting him know Sophia had picked up on the bad energy earlier.
“Yes, baby,” Dante whispered, holding her tight. “The bad lady is gone. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again.”
