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“No, you won’t!” she shouted and snatched his phone, hurling it against the wall. The device hit hard, shattered, and fell to the ground in pieces.
Breathing heavily, Anya stood there, staring at him with fury burning in her eyes. Her chest rose and fell with each breath as she glared at him.
“I said I don’t want to hear it!” she screamed. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Dante finally met her eyes as her anger boiled over.
“Dante Kingsley, I don’t care what you do with your life,” she snapped, voice trembling with rage. “You and I? We’re over. What are you even pretending to do here?”
Chapter 22 Pay The Price
She stormed to the door, yanking it open—only to feel resistance. It wouldn’t budge. Her brows furrowed, and she twisted the handle again, harder this time. Still jammed.
“What happened? Can’t bear to part from me?” Dante’s voice drawled behind her. She turned, and there he was—leaning casually against the edge of the table, arms crossed, one ankle hooked over the other. A smug smile tugged at his lips, like he was watching something mildly entertaining.
Her eyes flared with fury. “What did you do to the door?” she demanded, her voice rising. “Why won’t it open?!”
He gave a careless shrug, his tone deliberately infuriating. “I locked it. In front of your eyes. What do you want me to do now? Break it open?”
“You—” She cut herself off with a hiss of frustration, whirling away from him and marching toward her bag. She dug through it quickly, pulling out her phone and pressing the power button.
Still dead.
She turned, her voice clipped. “Give me your pho—” Her words trailed off as her eyes dropped to the shattered mess on the floor—his phone, broken into useless pieces.
Dante tilted his head slightly, watching her with that infuriating smirk. “I think you did it on purpose,” he said, his voice low, amused. “If you wanted to be alone with me, you could’ve just told me. We’d be much more comfortable in a hotel suite. I know a few good ones.”
“You’re disgusting,” she spat, not even bothering to glare anymore. She turned away from him, walking quickly to the corner of the room, yanking open a cabinet—nothing inside. She scanned the walls, then banged her fist against the wooden door with mounting desperation.
No sound from outside. No footsteps. No echo of anyone nearby. Just silence and him.
She shoved against the door again, harder this time, her body weight behind it. Still nothing. Trapped.
Behind her, she could feel him watching.
“I swear, Dante, if you don’t open this damn door in the next five seconds—”
“What?” he cut in lazily. “You’ll scream for help? Go ahead. The whole floor was cleared for the auction’s private bidders. No one’s here but us. Scream your heart out.”
She didn’t reply. Her breath came in frustrated huffs as she walked to the corner of the room, eyes scanning for something—anything—that could help her escape. She yanked open drawers, checked under the small table, then stormed back to the door and began banging on it again with both fists.
“Open up! Somebody—open the damn door!” Her voice echoed in the locked silence, but there was no answer, no movement from outside.
Finally, breathless and exhausted, she slumped slightly, resting her hand against the doorframe.
And then—
Her eyes widened in horror.
Something small and black skittered across the ground, its antenna twitching.
“Ah!” she shrieked, leaping away so fast her heels nearly slipped. Without thinking, she launched herself straight at Dante—arms flying around his neck, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist like he was the only safe ground in a burning building.
“Cockroach! There are cockroaches in here!” she cried, her face buried in his shoulder, trembling.
He caught her with ease, one arm under her thighs, the other locked securely around her waist. Her heart was thundering against his chest, her breath ragged.
And then—without a word—his lips met hers.