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“I don’t care,” he replied, his voice calm, yet firm. “Let them.”
Despite the rumors surrounding his supposed engagement to Annie, Dante showed no hesitation. No shame. No second-guessing. He didn’t even look around to see who might be watching.
“You can’t see clearly, right?” he asked. Without waiting for her answer, he leaned down again, bringing her closer. “Just hold on to me. I’ll stay with you.”
Anya’s heart pounded uncontrollably. Her face felt warm, her breath caught in her throat. She clutched his sleeve lightly, dazed by the closeness. The closeness, the way he looked at her as if she were the only one he cared about—it was almost too much.
“You should’ve told me about your eyesight earlier,” he murmured, eyes scanning her face. “I would’ve let you rest. Wouldn’t have made you wear those lenses all day.”
“I’m okay. I can manage,” she said softly, giving him a small smile.
Dante turned to her fully, his eyes serious now. He reached up, gently tucking her hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her skin.
“If something like this happens again,” he said, his voice low but full of meaning, “if you ever feel discomfort—even the smallest—tell me. Right away. I don’t like knowing you’re uncomfortable and not saying anything.”
Anya stared at him, stunned by the sincerity on his face. That kind of expression—he wasn’t just being kind, he was genuinely worried.
The tension on his face was as if he had stopped seeing everything else entirely. It made her realize how intensely he was focused on her.
This man—who everyone thought was cold and unreachable—looked at her like she was the most important thing in the world.
And it made him irresistibly attractive to her.
Her face softened in a way she couldn’t hide, no matter how hard she tried.
But then the sounds around her rushed back all at once. The clinking glasses, murmurs of conversation—and she realized just how close they were. And that they were still in public.
“Dante.” She placed her hands on his broad shoulders and gently pushed him back. “We should keep some distance. People might think we’re having an affair.”
“Wearehaving an affair,” he said, his brow arched, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Her eyes widened in shock, and she immediately put her hand over his mouth. “Don’t say such things out loud!” she gasped, cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. “Don’t you feel even a little ashamed?”
He smirked, brushing her hand away slowly.
“You’re the one who should feel ashamed,” he said near her ear, his breath grazing her skin. “After all, it was you who pulled me into bed.”
Her face burned even redder. Embarrassed, she dropped her gaze and turned away, walking off quickly—anywhere he wasn’t. But even as she moved, she could feel his gaze trailing her, intense and watchful, as though he was only there to keep his eyes on her.
Later that evening, as the sun dipped low and shadows stretched across the city, Anya and Dante exited the place. Both looked exhausted.
Dante was still holding her hand.
She tried pulling away several times, but his grip didn’t loosen. He held onto her like he had no intention of letting go.
The car pulled up in front of them. Just as she was about to get in, his phone rang.
“Mom” flashed across the screen.
Dante took a few steps away from the car and answered the call. “Mom?”
“Dante, where are you? Come home now. You and I are going to the Carters’ house.”
“What?” he snapped, sounding agitated. “Mom, what are you—”
“The other day, Charles called me and said Annie was sick, which is why she couldn’t come to that date. We’ve known their family for years. It’s basic manners to check in. Charles was close with your father, Dante.”
Dante sighed. He knew Janet was using this as an excuse, she just wanted to go there and see Annie. Still, because of the long-standing family friendship, he didn’t want to be rude.