Chapter 120 You will never feel unwanted again
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Chapter 120: You will never feel unwanted again
Dante’s POV
I hadn’t expected breakfast to be simple, but I didn’t expect it to nearly blow up in my face either. When I walked in and heard the way my sister–in–law and my daughter spoke to Gianna, so condescending and cruel, I saw the hurt in Gianna’s eyes, and it broke me in ways I couldn’t explain. Setting something loose inside me that I couldn’t hold back, and I ended up scolding my daughter for the first time in her life. That alone told me how deeply it affected me to see Gianna in pain.
The only good part was Arielle softening at the end and saying she was willing to give Gianna a chance. I held on to
that.
Now we were back in the room.
“Gianna.”
She didn’t turn. She didn’t even pretend to. She was clearly avoiding me.
I walked closer. “Look at me.”
།
She tilted her head just a little, but her eyes stayed fixed anywhere but on mine.
I reached for her hand, wanting her to know she wasn’t alone, but she pulled back before I could touch her.
“Hey.” I tried again, this time gently circling her wrist. “I’m sorry for what Ariel said to you, about your mother. You didn’t deserve that.”
“It’s fine.” Her voice was empty. “She hates me. She has every right to.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” I countered. “She hates your father, and she’s placing that anger on you because you’re the closest thing to him in her mind. I know my daughter. She’s a good girl with a big heart…..”
“You don’t have to apologize or explain,” she cut me off. “Your daughter is hurting. She has every right to be. After such a tragic loss…”
“No.” The word came out harder than I meant. “She had no right to say that about your mother. You didn’t deserve to hear that kind of hatred.”
I studied her face, the tight line of her mouth, the way the hurt shimmered beneath her lashes even though she tried to hide it. It was written all over her, no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise. A strong part of me needed to take even a little of that weight off her. I knew too well what it felt like to blame yourself for things you couldn’t control.
It hit me in the chest. I understood guilt far too well.
“I know it must have hurt,” I murmured. “Hearing her say that. I want to know how you really feel.”
I stepped closer and pulled her against me, slow enough for her to stop me.
She didn’t.
My arms settled around her. “Tell me what I can do to help.”
Her eyes widened a little, as if the idea of comfort from me surprised her.
Then she slipped out of my hold, stepping back. “Ariel isn’t here. There’s no need to keep pretending you care about my emotions.”
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Chapter B You will never feel unwanted p
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I felt disappointed, hurt that she thought I was pretending.
Maybe a part of me had played along in the beginning. Maybe the whole arrangement started on false ground. But there was more now. I wanted to protect her, stand between her and whatever had wounded her. I cared about what was happening inside her, and I wanted to ease that ache, even if only for a moment.
“You don’t know how I feel.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “So don’t speak for me.”
“Dante…” she muttered, arms crossed, trying to pull away from the moment.
I stepped in closer, refusing to let her shut down. “I know you’re defensive. You have every right to be. But I’m asking you to let me in. Talk to me. That’s all.”
She gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Why? Because we have an agreement? Is this you trying to play the part of a real husband now?”
“Agreement?” I raised a brow. “So that’s what we’re calling it?”
“That’s what it is.”
“No.”
I placed a hand on her waist and drew her back to me. This time she didn’t fight it. She let herself rest in my hold.
“We may have a document to sign, but there’s no such thing as a contract marriage. You’re my wife. That’s it.”
“Tell me what’s in here.”
I placed my hand gently over her chest, right where her heart beat fast beneath my palm. “Let me in.”
Her eyes softened then, drifting to the floor.
“Her words hurt because they dragged up memories I don’t like facing,” she whispered. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard things like that. My father blames me for my mother’s death. He never said it outright, but he never hid it either. I wasn’t allowed to ask about her. Not one picture. Not one story.”
My fists clenched as she continued.
“I saw her face only because my aunt showed me a picture behind his back.” She drew a shaky breath. “I look like her. That’s why he couldn’t stand to look at me. Maybe that’s why he drank. Why he shut down. Why he…”
Her voice strained. “Maybe he hated me for taking her away. Maybe Arielle’s right and it was my fault.”
“Your fault?” My voice dropped, filled with anger. “How could it be your fault?”
Tears gathered in her eyes. “How could it not be? She died while giving life to me.”
Rage burned through my chest, not at her, at Lorenzo. The man who abandoned a child because he couldn’t face his own grief.
“He lost his wife and chose to blame you? A child?”
“He was hurting…” she murmured, still defending him even now.
“And you weren’t?” I held her hands. “What about you, Glanna? You were a child. He should have been there. He owed you that.”
She looked down at where our hands were joined, and I finally saw it, the weight she’d been carrying for years. The guilt. The shame. The belief she didn’t deserve anything good.
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A single tear slid down her cheek
Before I realized it, my hands were on her face, palms warm against her skin, my thumbs brushing the tear away. She looked up at me, startled, and I felt it too, an unexplainable shift between us.
“Listen to me,” My voice softened, carrying a tender but firm edge. “You will never feel unwanted again. Not in this house. Not with me. I don’t care how long it takes. Arielle will come around. Just, give me time.”
Her lips parted, and another tear slid down her cheek.
“You believe that?” she whispered
“I do.”
“Why?” Her voice trembled. “Why do you care so much after everything?”
I didn’t have an answer. Not one I could form. Not one I was ready to say out loud.
So I pulled her tighter against me, guiding her head back to my chest, giving her space to fall apart if she needed
- to.
She didn’t make a sound, but I felt her arms circle my waist, felt the slight shake in her shoulders as her tears soaked into my shirt.
My fingers moved through her hair in tender, slow strokes.
“You’re not alone,” I murmured. “Not anymore.”
She nodded against me. Her fingers clutched my shirt as if she didn’t want to lose her hold on me.
Her scent eased the tightness inside me. My body loosened, almost without my permission.
It felt right. Holding her. Like she trusted me in a way I didn’t think I deserved.
She drew in a long breath against my chest.
“Since we’re talking about being honest and letting each other in, I want to ask you something.”
My body went still before I could stop it, like the question had reached me before her words did.
She lifted her head. Her eyes were red and puffy, but there was a softness in them that hadn’t been there before.
“I want to know about her. Your late wife.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
