Chapter 121: Letting My Self Feel
Dante’s POV
My hands tell away from her without warning. The space between us felt colder than it should have. I stepped back. I didn’t mean to, but the wound opened the second she said those words.
I couldn’t hold it, not when the ache still lived right under my ribs, like it happened yesterday.
She noticed every detail.
“You were the one telling me to open up a few minutes ago,” she said softly. “Now you don’t want to do the same?”
“It’s different,” I muttered. I turned my face away. I didn’t want her reading my eyes. “It’s not the same.”
“How?” she asked. “We’re both hurting. Maybe not the same way, but pain is pain. And I shared mine. I need you to share yours too. If this is going to work.”
I let out a breath and felt a small grin tug at my mouth. She was using my own words against me. The woman was braver than she knew.
I slid my hands into my pockets, searching for some kind of control. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your wife. It’s obvious how much you loved her. And watching Ariel, it made me want to understand you more. I’ve been wanting to know everything.”
“Gianna…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I can’t. That’s a lot.”
She stepped forward and took my hand, gentle but sure.
“Let’s start with her name. You’ve never told me her name.”
I drew in a deep breath. The memory hit me hard. The beach. The wind blowing her hair across her face. That shy smile she tried to hide when she introduced herself.
“Esmeralda.”
She smiled. “That’s a beautiful name.”
“What was she like?” she continued.
I looked toward the window because looking at Gianna would have made it harder.
“She was an angel. I don’t use that word loosely. She had a light in her, soft in all the ways that mattered. Ariel, she is her mirror image. Same smile. Same big heart. Every time I look at her, I see my Esme.”
Gianna’s voice dropped. “How did she die? How did my father kill her?”
I turned away fast. The kind of fast that comes from instinct, not thought. I walked across the room, needing space.
The pain pressed against my throat, and I couldn’t face her, not with that story sitting inside me.
“I know it hurts,” she whispered behind me. She followed, her steps slow. “And I’m not trying to make things worse. I just want to understand.”
She had no idea what she was asking,
how close I was to breaking apart every time I thought of Esme.
But ever since she came into my life, the pain had dulled just enough for me to breathe again.
It was better this way, keeping the past where it belonged so I could protect the small bit of peace I’d managed to find.
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“I can’t,” I gritted, the words dragging out. “I can’t talk about that.”
Her cheek rested against my back.
Her arms slid around me from behind, tender and carrying a soothing kind of closeness I’d almost forgotten existed.
The touch nearly knocked the air out of me. I hadn’t let anyone hold me like this in years.
“I’ll let it go for now,” she whispered. “But I need to know someday. What my father did.”
I let out a deep breath, relieved she was letting it go for now. I turned and pulled her into me.
Her soft curves melted into me, fitting perfectly like they were made to be there. Her warmth seeped through my shirt, bringing
a sense of peace I didn’t think I deserved but couldn’t bring myself to push away.
She rested her forehead against my shirt and breathed out her words into me.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” I lifted her gaze to meet mine. “None of this is your fault. And I don’t want you to carry that guilt. This is Lorenzo’s fault. And he will pay.”
Her lips parted slightly. “Are you saying you’re not going to punish me for my father’s sins anymore?”
Her voice grew stronger as she continued. “Because the night of the auction, when you brought me to your home, you told me that my body would carry the mark of my father’s sins.”
“And now I understand why you said it,” she lifted her hand slowly, almost like she expected me to pull away.
“The pain you carried… the things you believed you’d never escape.”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying as if she wasn’t sure she had the right to say what came next.
“But I need to hear you say it,” she murmured, eyes lifting to mine.
“Tell me that isn’t how you see me anymore.”
I caught her hand and pressed it to my jaw, letting myself feel it in a way I hadn’t allowed in years.
“It’s not the case anymore,” I murmured, and for once, the words felt honest.
When I first took her, all I saw was a tool, a way to get back at Lorenzo. But now everything was shifting. I just saw her, my Gianna, the woman I was going to marry.
“I don’t feel the need to punish you for your father’s sins.”
Her eyes lit up, disbelief melting away the earlier pain. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
The energy between us surged instantly. Heat shot through me before my mind could catch up.
I stepped forward, prompting her to instinctively step back.
Her eyes widened slightly as she recognized the darker version of me taking over.
I kept moving, and she followed.
The wall was getting closer. I could see the exact moment she realized she was running out of space. Her breathing became shallower and faster.
“No longer for your father’s sins,” I drawled. “But for yours.”
One more step, and her back hit the wall.
Chapter 121 Letting My Self Te
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Her eyes widened. “My own sins? What are you talking about?”
I placed my hands on either side of her head, caging her in. My body was close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin, but not touching, yet.
“You really have to ask?” I leaned in, lips just inches from hers. “You’re a little cynic, always finding new ways to defy me at every turn.”
She bit her lip, and the look in her eyes said everything. She enjoyed every second of the effect she had on me.
I dipped my mouth closer, letting my lips graze the shell of her ear.
“And this morning, you dared to push me. You got me hard and aching for you, then walked away and left me on the edge.”
There was no apology flashing in those eyes, just satisfaction.
“Good,” she whispered, lifting her chin in that defiant way that always got to me. “Maybe now you know how it feels.”
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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.
