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Dante sat frozen. Anya was too close. Her face, her voice, her breath—all of it right in his space. He’d never let any woman this close before. It didn’t feel uncomfortable… it felt different. A strange tremble moved through his chest.
She turned back to the others. “He’s got abs like a Greek god. I counted them. Eight. EIGHT abs!”
Adrian, Triston, and Raiden turned to Dante, disbelief all over their faces. The man who barely looked twice at women was now sitting with one in his lap, rambling about his body.
“You’ve seen his body already?” Triston asked, nearly choking on laughter.
“Anya, shut up,” Dante barked, trying to push her back.
Instead, she fell into his lap, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, her face buried against the warm curve of his throat.
Still unfazed, she looked at Triston and nodded with all the seriousness in the world. “Yeah. I had averygood look last night. Chest. Abs. And then down be—”
“ANYA!” Dante snapped, slapping a hand over her mouth.
She stuck out her tongue and licked his palm.
He jerked his hand back, startled.
“You’ve got such nice abs,” she muttered, still sitting in his lap. “Like, really nice. Hard chest. Not boobs or anything. Rock hard. So nice.”
“Anya—” Dante growled, grabbing her wrist, trying to pull her hand away, but she only wriggled it deeper under his shirt.
The men didn’t even try to hide their laughter now. They watched, drinking, fully entertained.
“What? You don’t believe me?” she looked offended. “Fine, take off your shirt. Show them. I’m telling the truth! I saw everything. You weren’t even wearing panties!”
“Fucking hell!” Dante roared.
The men around the table howled with laughter.
Chapter 4 It’s soft, isn’t it?
The very next second, Dante hauled Anya over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She let out a squeal, her fists immediately pounding against his back.
“Put me down! I haven’t finished!” she cried, wriggling like a furious kitten. “I have to prove I’m not a liar! You’re ruining my reputation, Dante! Those three gods will never believe me now! I won’t get into heaven if they think I'm a liar!”
Dante didn’t say a word.
He just stormed out of the lounge, ignoring her protests while the rest of the table keeled over in fits of laughter.
A loud smack landed right on her butt cheek, making her wince and cry out, “Ow!”
Dante’s grip tightened. She struggled, kicking and writhing in his hold, but he didn’t let her go. Instead of taking her out of the bar, he stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor.
This wasn’t his first time here—he had a permanent suite upstairs. It was easier to crash there than go home, especially after long nights of meetings or parties. And with Anya this drunk, there was no way he was taking her anywhere else.
He unlocked the suite door and walked straight to the bed.
The suite was massive—easily the size of a small house. Clean lines, dark walls, and soft, warm lighting gave the space a rich, modern feel. One entire wall was made of glass, overlooking the city skyline, with sheer motorized curtains half-pulled to the sides. A sleek, oversized bed sat in the middle of the room, low to the ground, covered in crisp white sheets, plush pillows, and a black quilted throw. The headboard stretched across the entire wall behind it—matte black, with hidden lights glowing softly around the edges.
On the left side of the room stood a full-sized bar, sharp and glossy with a black marble top. Rows of rare liquor bottles sat on glass shelves behind it, lit by cool LED strips. A mirrored wall behind the bar reflected the rest of the room, doubling the space visually.
In one corner, a large sectional sofa faced a floating fireplace built into a concrete wall. A few designer chairs, clean and minimal, were scattered around a matte coffee table. The floors were smooth grey stone, and the entire suite smelled faintly of cedar and something expensive she couldn’t place.
As he leaned down to lay her on the mattress, she suddenly wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, clinging to him like her life depended on it.
Dante exhaled sharply, lifting his head to meet her hazy gaze.