Page 98 of His Son's Ex

I lean against the wall and take a slow breath, letting it all sink in—rage, fear, fiery determination. I am not about to let some bitter ex and her overcompensating boyfriend erase me.

I close my eyes and whisper, “You fucked with the wrong woman.”

CHAPTER 32

EVA

No windows. No clock. Just the steady buzz of that damn overhead light and the occasional shuffle of footsteps above me.The ceiling is the only part of this cubed prison that isn’t concrete or steel.

I don’t know if it’s been hours or a day, but my limbs are sore, my mouth tastes like dust, and the walls feel like they’re pressing in closer by the minute. I curl up tighter on the cot, trying to trick my body into rest.

At some point, my mind drifts, slipping into something that feels like sleep, but sweeter.

I’m no longer in the basement. I’m sprawled on crisp white sheets in a sun-drenched bedroom, the sound of the ocean waves crashing beyond the open balcony doors. A warm breeze kisses my bare skin. Outside, a lush garden leads to a private stretch of secluded beach—a perfect paradise.

Dante is beside me.

His hand skims up my thigh, slow and familiar, tracing a path he already knows by heart. His hazel eyes are soft and beamingin the golden light, and for once, there’s no tension in his jaw, no shadows on his face. Just that lazy, dangerous smile that can undo me in seconds.

“Tell me again why we didn’t do this sooner,” he murmurs, fingers brushing the curve of my hip.

“Because you’re stubborn,” I shoot back, smirking as I trail my fingers down his chest.

He laughs, the sound low and rich as he pulls me closer, burying his face in my neck. “Guilty. But I always get there eventually.”

I stretch my body, loving the way his hand cups my belly. “Is this real?” I whisper.

Dante kisses my mouth. “As real as you want it to be.”

The kiss grows deep and hungry, his mouth crashing into mine like he’s been starving for this, for me. His tongue tangles with mine—teasing, tasting, claiming—igniting something feral in me.

His hand slides beneath the thin silk of my nightgown, fingers splaying wide over my hip, dragging upward with slow, deliberate intent. His touch is warm yet rough, and completely addictive. I moan into his mouth, my fingers threading through his hair and pulling him closer until there’s no space, only heat.

A low growl escapes when I arch into him, the nightgown slipping higher as his palm curves over my bare thigh, pulling it around his waist. I feel the hard length of his cock through his thin linen boxers, pressing into me. His hand cups my breast, thumb circling the sensitive peak until I gasp, breaking the kiss only to chase it again a heartbeat later.

“God, Eva…” he breathes against my lips. “You’re going to shatter me.”

His mouth traces a slow path down my throat. He lingers at the hollow of my collarbone, then moves lower, tugging the nightgown aside with his teeth until he finds my bare skin.

He doesn’t rush. He worships. I open myself for him instinctively, my body falling into the familiar rhythm.

Each kiss, each stroke of his tongue is maddening. Intimate. Possessive.

“I love you,” he whispers against my skin.

I’m just about to whisper it back when—BANG!

The world cracks in two.

The sound of metal slamming into metal jolts me from the dream, probably a garbage truck. The noise reverberates through the basement like a cruel joke. My body jerks upright, heart pounding, still half in paradise.

Then reality sets in.

I’m not on a beach. I’m not with Dante. I’m in a basement that smells like mildew and hopelessness, my cheek bruised from Linda’s cruel slap.

“Dammit,” I whisper, dragging a hand down my face. The air is thick, my throat dry. I’m sealed off from everything and everyone.

But I’m not done yet. Not by a long shot.