Page 64 of Anti-Heroes in Love Duet

I definitely didn’t experience a flash of spine-tingling arousal at the idea of a man like him being possessive of me.

And if I did, I consoled myself with the truth. It had been a long time since someone had been possessive of me, and it was only natural to be intrigued.

Still, I swore an oath as I left the coffee shop for my office that I wouldn’t breathe a word of it to Dante.

That evening, I was barely through the elevator doors with Bruno, the man who attended the lobby reception having personally taken me up so he could talk my ear off about his wife and children, when I heard a sound I’d never thought to hear in Dante’s palatial apartment.

A child’s laughter.

It was high, melodic, and utterly lovely.

Something in my chest where my heart used to be flipped over like a half-done pancake. My hand went to my upper breast unconsciously, rubbing at the sensation as I moved into the living room and stared over the long room into the kitchen where the sound had emerged from.

A small girl with long, curling chestnut brown hair was seated on the long matte black kitchen island. Her white and pink dress pooled over the dark granite as she carefully rolled orecchiette pasta in her hands. Her tongue poked between her teeth in concentration as she studied her pasta dough, then darted a look over at Dante, who occupied the same task beside her.

I couldn’t move as I watched them, overcome with something thathurt.

It rolled through me hotly, molten like lead poured into my veins. I felt poisoned by the sensation, unable to breathe the way Dante had when he’d ingested cyanide.

“You okay,DonnaElena?” Bruno asked from the elevator where he still had a clear sight of me, stalled at the mouth of the living room.

His voice tuned Dante in to my presence, his face forming a smile before he even lifted his head to look at me.

Dio mio.

I rubbed the heel of my hand so hard into my chest I felt certain it would bruise.

“Buona sera,” he greeted me, already abandoning his dinner project to wipe his floured hands on a towel. “I was hoping you would be back in time to meet the love of my life.”

The girl laughed, throwing her little folded piece of pasta at Dante so it left a mark on his black button-up shirt. He growled at her, causing her to shriek with joy and throw more pasta grenades at him. When he lunged for her, she lifted her arms for him to pick her up even though she screamed as if she was frightened. By the time he planted her on his hip, she was over their little game and happily settled in his arms.

“Hello,” she called to me as Dante approached. “My name is the Love of Dante’s Life.”

The smile that warmed my face felt alien and vulnerable. I touched my other hand to my lips, then immediately lowered it when Dante frowned at me.

“Hello, beautiful,” I greeted as they trekked through the living room to my side. “Dante speaks of nothing but you.”

“I know,” she said confidently with a sage nod of her head that made me want to burst into laughter. “Boys are always falling in love with me, you know?”

“Are they?” I asked, then clucked my tongue. “You know, I’m not surprised. You’re very pretty, and more, I bet you’re smart.”

“One time, someone called me a genius,” she told me solemnly.

“That was your mum,gioia,” he pointed out. “Mothers always tell us we are better than we are because they love us. That is why you have uncles, to tell you the hard truths.”

She frowned at him. “Zio, am I a genius?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed immediately to her avid delight.

I couldn’t help the laugh that emerged fragile as a blown bubble from my lips. They were absolutely adorable together, and I just couldn’t understand what was happening.

I’d thought Dante’s only sibling was Alexander.

He read the confusion in my look and grinned as he set the girl down and offered his hand for her to do a twirl. “Elena, this is Aurora.”

“Don’t call me Sleeping Beauty,” she warned me before I could say anything, fisting her hands on her hips. “I don’t like princesses.”

“Alright,” I agreed. “I don’t really like them either.”