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Panic surged through Luca. “Alright, you didn’t. I was saying nonsense. Don’t cry!”
Her lips trembled. “I want him.”
She sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “He’s so nice. He lets me have whatever I want. He even proposed to me so sweetly..."
Her hand reached for another glass out, but Luca had already pushed the liquor glasses to the far end of the table, just out of her reach. That didn’t stop her—she swiped again with unsteady hands, this time snatching his half-full scotch and swallowing it in one go before he could stop her.
His hand met only empty air as she downed the liquor and slammed the glass down on the table.
Tears fell from her eyes.
“Ahhh—empty! This also left me!” she cried, voice rising in wounded disbelief. “Why is everything leaving me? I’m not even that bad!”
She turned to Luca, gripping his shoulders, leaning in as she nodded to herself.
"He betrayed me so badly. He left. But I love him so much. How am I supposed to keep watching him walk away and cry every time? I can’t do that again and again."
Luca let out a long, slow breath, rubbing his temples. “You broke up with him, Anya.”
Her expression twisted in confusion. “What?! When?!” Her hands fell limply into her lap, brows furrowed. “He left me… again? Why?”
The tears spilled again.
His jaw clenched.
He couldn’t watch this anymore.
With a resigned sigh, he reached for his phone. He unlocked the screen and tapped a contact he’d never called before.
The call was picked up a few rings later.
“If you want Anya back,” Luca said coldly, staring ahead as her head drooped against his shoulder, “this is your last chance. Want it?”
There was a beat of silence.
"Send the address. I’ll be there in five." Dante’s voice growled, already striding out. Luca could almost hear his footsteps over the line before it cut.
***
Dante stormed into the hotel suite with Anya in his arms, the door slamming behind him as his boots struck the floor in heavy, urgent strides. He held her close—closer than necessary—pressing her sleeping form tightly to his chest like she might vanish if he let go.
She had already passed out at the bar by the time he had arrived. The sight of Luca standing near her had only made him more eager to take her away—despite the very real urge to snap Luca in two, Dante hadn’t spared him more than a searing glare. The rage that had simmered beneath his skin had been barely leashed. He had been relieved to take her off Luca’s hands—grateful, even—but that didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted to rip him apart.
He couldn’t understand how Anya found that man soharmless. That grinning snake always made Dante’s skin crawl.
The way Luca looked at her… it made his blood run hot. If he ever caught him alone again—
He forced the thought down.
She was all that mattered now.
She was already asleep. Completely out cold, her body limp in his arms. But as he reached the bed and tried to lower her down, her arm curled around his neck in a surprisingly strong grip, holding him there.
“Anya,” he murmured near her ear, soft and coaxing. “My love, let go. You can sleep in the bed now.”
But she only buried her face deeper into the crook of his neck, her warm breath brushing against his skin.
“Mhmm… Dante…”