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Dante led her outside. At the quiet exit of the restaurant, the bustling sounds faded into a calm lobby. He pulled her into a secluded corner and finally let go of her hand. Gently, but with quiet insistence, he guided her shoulders down and made her sit on the couch. Then, with a heavy breath, he bent on one knee in front of her.
"Don’t leave, Anya. Please." His voice was softer now, the edge of anger gone. "I’m not mad at you. I just... I want to talk. Stay."
Anya stared at him, his eyes no longer cold but troubled. After a moment, she gave a small nod.
His face lit up with visible relief. He reached for her hand again, rubbing her fingers softly between his rougher ones. Then, standing to his full height, he turned and walked back into the restaurant.
Anya watched his retreating back as he disappeared inside. She caught sight of him pacing anxiously just beyond the glass door, and a thought whispered in her heart.
‘Maybe… it’s better he doesn’t know who I really am yet.’
Back then, she had nothing—but he was still there for her. But Janet didn’t want her, she wanted the rich, famous heiress. That’s why she had to leave. Her fingers curled tightly around her phone as memories from that day rushed back, slicing through her chest like broken glass.
‘If he can’t accept me as just Anya, if he won’t choose me before knowing who I really am—then I won’t explain anything to him. He doesn’t deserve to know I’m the girl his family tried to force him to marry for the business. I won’t marry a man who wants money more than me.’
She continued staring at him through the glass. She had missed him—deeply. They hadn’t lived together for long, but he was kind to her. Attentive. Protective. A man who didn’t just walk away after sleeping with her.
And now, seeing him after all these days, she could barely look away.
Just then, he turned, his eyes scanning the lobby, sharp and searching, until they landed on her. The moment he spotted her, his tense expression softened. Relief flickered across his features like a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His body finally relaxed.
Her phone rang.
Charles’s name flashed on the screen.
She picked it up, and his concerned voice came through instantly.
“Annie? How was the date? Are you still there?”
“Dad,” she said calmly. “I need you to call Dante and tell him I had to leave for something urgent. Say I couldn’t make it to the date.”
There was a pause. “What happened? Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine,” she replied. Then added, “Also… Dad, can you please start calling me Anya from now on? I’m used to that name.”
“Of course,” Charles said instantly, not even hesitating. "If that’s what you want, then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll always give you what you need."
Anya smiled, her heart warming at his unwavering affection. “Thank you, Daddy.”
A few moments later, Dante emerged from the restaurant and strode straight to her.
“Come,” he said, gripping her hand again and pulling her up from the couch. His hand reached up to brush her face gently.
“Have you eaten anything yet?”
Anya shook her head. "No."
His frown deepened, displeased. Without another word, he turned and led her back into the restaurant.
As soon as they stepped in, a waiter approached them.
“Bring out the best dishes you have,” Dante ordered firmly. “And please be quick.”
“Right away, sir,” the waiter said and disappeared.
As they sat at the table, Anya placed her bag beside her and glanced at Dante. After a moment, she asked, "So… your date didn’t show up?"
“Yes,” Dante replied without the slightest hesitation.