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She could barely contain her frustration as she stood up and marched straight upstairs toward Dante’s room. The door was ajar, so she barged right in.
“Dante! It’s Annie’s birthday today—Charles’ daughter! You should go right now and get her a gift. Something expensive. I’ll try to find her contact info. You have to start wooing her!”
“What the hell are you talking about, Mom?” Dante emerged from behind his desk, dressed in a casual white t-shirt and a trouser. He walked over to her, his brows furrowed. “What are you saying?”
“That girl, Annie. It’s her birthday today. Buy her something luxurious and go give it to her! Also you’ve gotten rid of Anya, right?”
“I’m not getting rid of her,” he said flatly. “She’s mine.”
His calm, defiant tone only made Janet more furious.
“Get rid of her immediately! She’s not stepping into this house again, nor should she be anywhere near you. Drill that into your head! First, get her out of your life, and then make sure when you meet Annie, that girl is completely gone!”
Without waiting for his response, she spun around and stormed out of the room.
Dante stared after her, a cold frown settling on his face. A strange suspicion crawled into his chest.
‘Anya and Annie… both have the same birthday?’
He crossed his arms, the pieces clicking louder in his mind. ‘And since she left, Anya never told me where she moved. Could it be… is it possible that Anya is Annie?’
The idea sounded unrealistic, but it burned in his gut.
Still, he shook his head, dismissing the thought. “If there’s something going on, she’ll tell me herself,” he muttered and turned back to his desk, continuing work on the gift he was preparing for Anya.
***
At the Carters’ residence, Charles walked into the living room where Anya sat quietly. She had overheard everything.
“You still haven’t told them?” he asked gently, settling beside her.
Anya shook her head, then leaned against his shoulder, her voice a soft whisper. “Not yet, Dad.”
She pulled back and gave him a small smile. “Before Dante and I get married, I’ll tell him myself. He deserves to hear it directly.”
Charles exhaled slowly, concern still in his eyes. But he gave her a reassuring pat on the head and returned to reading the news on his tablet.
***
As the clock struck six, Anya quietly slipped out of the house. A sleek black car waited at the curb.
Just as she reached the door, the driver’s door opened—Dante stepped out and started walking toward her.
“No—” she hissed, rushing up to him. She slapped at his arm lightly, adjusting her purse on her shoulder with the other hand. “Someone could see you! Get back inside.”
He frowned at her strange behavior. “What?”
She fumbled with the car door, trying to push him back into the seat, but he suddenly reached out, cupped her face, and pulled her into a kiss right there, in the middle of the street.
She gasped, trying to push him away at first, but his lips pressed harder—more possessive, more demanding. His tongue traced the curve of her lower lip, slipping inside to tease and taste her. He pulled back just enough to lick her lips again, wet and hungry, before crashing back in with renewed intensity.
Her resistance melted with every heated flick of his tongue, every possessive nibble..
By the time he pulled back, she was breathless, dazed, and completely at his mercy.
Anya staggered back slightly, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. She shot him a glare—half furious, half shaken.
“You’re mine. I don’t care who sees us,” he muttered, voice low and rough as his hand slid possessively around her waist. Without giving her a chance to react, he gently nudged her toward the passenger seat. “Come on, I’ll help you get in.”