Page 93

Adrian stood a few feet away, leaning casually against a pillar, amusement dancing in his eyes and a grin tugging at his lips.
“I came too late,” Adrian continued with a light laugh. “Missed the whole show, unfortunately.”
Dante let out a low breath, flicking ash from the end of his cigarette. His tone was clipped. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Adrian shrugged, walking over with a relaxed gait, hands in his pockets. “Got bored at the office. Figured I’d drop by for some high-society drama. Never expectedyouto be the headliner, though.”
He stopped just a step away from Dante and leaned in slightly, voice lowering with mock seriousness. “In Manhattan, women practically faint just to be noticed by you. And today, one girl refused your gift. That’s gotta sting.”
Dante said nothing, his silence seething.
Adrian smirked and tilted his head. “Tell me again, is that the same girl you told me a few days ago you don’t care about? Or was she one of those ‘dozens’ you claimed you were just going to marry after leaving Anya?”
Dante’s hand tightened around the cigarette, the ember glowing hotter with the pressure.
“Shut the fuck up,” Dante gritted out, his voice low and sharp with warning.
He dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his polished shoe. The ember hissed and died beneath the weight, but the sigh that followed couldn’t ease the pounding in his chest. His heart was restless—furious, aching, and helpless all at once.
Adrian stood beside him, arms folded, his posture relaxed but his eyes observant. He turned slightly, peering through thetall glass window into the auction hall. His gaze found Anya, standing beside Luca, calm and composed as if nothing had happened—as if she hadn’t just shattered Dante’s pride minutes ago.
“That girl’s beautiful,” Adrian muttered under his breath. “And she’s smart. She worked as your secretary and you never once had a complaint about her performance.”
Dante turned to him, his brows furrowing.
Adrian met his gaze, face turning uncharacteristically serious. “Since you’re clearly out of the picture now, maybe I’ll introduce her to some of my single friends. I know a few who’d kill for a woman like that—poised, gorgeous, and not swayed by wealth.”
Dante’s fists clenched instantly, his jaw tightening.
“Are you not going to stop talking?” he snapped. His voice dropped to a dangerous growl as he stepped closer to Adrian, eyes blazing with fury. “Try me. I fucking dare you.”
Adrian let out a quiet chuckle, but the amusement in his eyes faded as he studied his friend’s expression.
Straightening his stance, he lowered his voice. “If you want her, act fast, Dante. Or you’ll regret it. She won’t be lacking admirers. Girls like her don’t wait around. She’s not one of your business acquisitions you can walk away from and expect to renegotiate later on your own terms.”
He leaned in slightly, his tone cooling like ice. “This isn’t a contract. It’s not a deal you can win back with power or money. That girl will move on faster than you can blink. And if she does, she won’t look back.”
Dante’s jaw clenched as he turned toward the glass again. His gaze locked onto Anya—laughing softly at something Luca hadsaid, her hand resting lightly in his. The way Luca looked at her like she was the center of his universe, only made the burn in Dante’s chest worse.
Five minutes later, Anya stepped out of the hall, her expression calm as she adjusted the strap of her purse. Luca had stayed behind, busy talking to one of the auction organizers. She was alone now, moving down the quiet corridor lined with golden-framed artwork.
She had barely taken a few steps when a firm hand grabbed her wrist from behind and yanked her roughly.
She gasped, eyes flying wide.
Dante.
Before she could even speak, he was already dragging her down the hallway, his grip tight.
“Let me go!” she snapped, trying to twist free, but he didn’t even look back.
His steps were hard and fast. He didn’t stop until they reached a heavy oak door near the end of the corridor. With a swift push, he shoved it open and pulled her inside.
The room was empty—likely a storage lounge used during events. He slammed the door behind them and locked it with a loud click.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Anya hissed, whirling around. Her voice was sharp, furious, but her chest rose and fell rapidly—her heart pounding from the sudden force.
She turned to walk past him, but he blocked her path, pressing a palm against the door.