Page 11 of The Chief (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #3)

She looked at him directly now, her voice quieter but no less sharp. “I need to ask something else,” she said. “If the Brand hadn’t appeared—if none of this had happened—would you have still chosen me? Or would it always have been Petra?”

The question struck harder than it should have.

Cade didn’t flinch, but something tightened beneath his ribs.

The kind of pressure that came from knowing the next words out of his mouth would hurt her.

And that he’d say them anyway. Not to wound, but because she deserved the truth.

And because lies couldn’t live between them.

Not now. Not with the Brand burning hot and undeniable between them.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know the answer.

It was that saying it aloud would make it permanent. Real. Like the Brand.

She wanted the truth. So he gave it. “I’d have married Petra.”

Elise flinched, the breath going out of her like a punch she hadn’t seen coming. She looked away, lips tightening, then back at him. “Then why did you kiss me at the reception? Was it a test? Were you still trying to figure it out? Or were you already sure?”

“I kissed you because I needed to know if it was just the mark... or something more. Because when you kissed me in Leif’s office, I thought I’d been cracked wide open. And I wanted—hell, I needed—to know if that pull was still there. If it was real. And it was.”

He looked at her. Steady. Unapologetic. “Now tell me the truth. Why did you kiss me? Not the safe answer. Not the glib one the fake Elise would offer. I want the real reason. The one you haven’t admitted to yourself yet.”

She didn’t flinch. But she didn’t answer, either.

Her lips parted, then pressed into a thin line as her gaze dropped to her hands.

”Because I wanted to believe it didn’t matter,” she whispered.

“That if I kissed you and you pulled away, it would end everything. The tension. The pull. The fear. I thought you’d shut it down, and I could go back to pretending nothing happened. But you didn’t.”

Cade didn’t speak at first. He let her words hang there between them, unchallenged, unsoftened. Because that kind of truth deserved space. Deserved respect.

When he finally did respond, his voice was quieter than before.

“You thought I’d pull away? After that kiss?

” He shook his head once. “I was already gone, Elise. The second you kissed me, I wasn’t thinking about alliances or legacy.

I was thinking about you. Wanting you. Needing you. You just didn’t see it yet.”

“No, I didn’t.” She looked up, eyes shining with something sharp and exposed.

The truth was already out, too gut-wrenching to take back, too vulnerable to dress up with humor.

But she didn’t want to hide anymore. She gave a small, almost bitter laugh.

”You know... I stepped in at the last second.

Petra was standing at the altar, and I walked in like I had a right to replace her.

How were you able to switch brides so easily?

One minute it was Petra, the next... me. ”

She didn’t accuse him. But the question landed hard.

Cade didn’t speak right away.

Then, he said, “Because it was never supposed to be Petra. I didn’t see that until the moment the Brand appeared. And once I saw it—once I knew—I couldn’t pretend anymore. It wasn’t about switching brides. It was about correcting the mistake before it became permanent.”

“Doesn’t that mess with your head?”

He held her stare, unflinching. “I was never meant for Petra. I wasn’t Branded for her.

Everything changed the second I saw your hand.

The rest, the dance, the cake, that was ceremony.

This—” he reached across and brushed his fingers lightly against her palm, where the Brand pulsed faintly, “This is the truth.”

She didn’t look away. “You make it sound easy.”

“It wasn’t,” he said. “But it was certain.”

His expression didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened, focused with the kind of precision that cut through everything else in the room. Like he’d just locked onto a target. Like something inside him had shifted from listening to deciding.

He didn’t look away as he asked, “You remember our first kiss? In Leif’s office. You leaned in like it was a joke. Like you were testing me.”

Her breath hitched. “It wasn’t a joke. Not really. I did it because Katrina tried it first and you rejected her. I thought if I tried to kiss you too, you’d push me away like you did her. And that would be it. Over. No tension. No pull. No mark. Just... escape.”

“I knew then,” he said. “The way you looked at me after—that penetrating flash of something unguarded. It wrecked me. I wanted you, Elise. Not in theory. Not eventually. Right then. Right there. That kiss? It wasn’t a game.

It was real, and it hit me like a damn punch to the chest. I almost took you there on Leif’s desk. That’s how hard it hit.”

He let out a breath, voice rougher now. “But I couldn’t afford real. I was supposed to pick a partner. Someone who’d keep her head, play the game, stay predictable. I thought that was Petra. But you? You felt like a wife. A mate. A risk I wasn’t ready to take. So I tried to choose safety.”

“And that was Petra,” she said, the words edged with something brittle, hurt wrapped in disbelief.

Like she’d just been handed confirmation of a suspicion she’d hoped wasn’t true.

Her voice didn’t rise, but it struck clean.

“The sister who made sense. The one who wouldn’t burn your life down just by being in it. ”

“And that was Petra,” he admitted. “She was the smart choice. The safe one. The kind of woman who would never surprise me. I could predict every move she’d make. She was exactly what I thought I needed—measured, composed, and perfectly willing to play the role.”

He paused, eyes still locked on Elise. “But she didn’t make me respond worth a damn. You did. And that terrified me more than anything else.”

The kitchen quieted around them, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound between words neither of them wanted to touch yet. Elise didn’t move. She didn’t blink. She just let the substance of his confession settle.

And then, softly—carefully—she asked, “And the kiss?”

“Which one?”

“The one at the reception.”

For a moment, he didn’t answer.

Then, quiet and certain, he said, “That kiss ended everything I thought I knew. There was nothing strategic about it. Nothing planned. It wasn’t ceremony.

It was impulse. You kissed me like it meant something, and I kissed you back because it did.

It was authentic. Unscripted. And for one reckless second, it seemed like truth.

Like we’d never belonged anywhere but there, in that moment. ”

He looked at her. Not smiling. Not soft. Exposed in a way he rarely allowed.

“You asked why I kissed you back,” he continued. “It wasn’t a test. It was confirmation. I’d already made my decision when I saw the mark. But when you kissed me again, there in the hallway, after the cake, I knew. You weren’t running anymore. You were claiming me too.”

He paused.

“That was the moment everything changed. Not because it was passionate. Not because people might’ve seen.

But because you looked at me like I was already yours.

And I felt it. Every part of it. That kiss stripped everything else away.

It wasn’t strategy or performance. It was intuition.

And it wrecked me. I wanted more, and I hated how much that scared me. ”

He didn’t expect her to say anything. But when she didn’t respond right away, the silence twisted between them, full of things neither had dared put into words. Then she shifted slightly, barely a movement, and drew in a breath like she was about to step into fire.

“Do you want to know why I kissed you?” Elise asked.

Cade answered without hesitation, his voice absolute. “No more lies, Elise. You want the truth? Then give me yours first. Every reason, every impulse, every fear behind that kiss—I want it all. And once it’s out there, you don’t get to run from it. You don’t get to run from me.”

She stilled and couldn’t quite bring herself to look at him. Her shoulders rose and fell once more, tighter this time. She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she took a careful breath, gathering herself, like she had to brace for the words before she gave them voice.

He waited.

A beat passed. Then another.

Cade didn’t push her. But he didn’t look away, either.

Finally, she spoke. “I wanted you,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “When everything in me was panicking, you were the only thing solid. You were the safe place I didn’t expect to find. I kissed you because I needed something real. And you were it.”

“I didn’t pick up on any panic.”

“No? Isn’t that why I ran away from you at the reception?” She exhaled, almost laughed, but there was no humor in it. “God, I ran like a coward. Slipped out of the reception like the room was on fire and I was the only one who smelled smoke. Like disappearing would make it all go away.”

He didn’t move, but something in his eyes softened.

“You ran because you were overwhelmed. Not because you panicked.”

She looked up, startled by the certainty in his voice. “You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

Three words. Uncompromising. True. Somehow he saw her, saw through her, down to the core of her essence.

She stared at him, searching for something in his face. He let her look. Let her find it. When she didn’t speak, he asked the question he’d been holding since the hallway.

“The men. What happened?”

Her lashes dipped. “I don’t know. I didn’t see them. Just heard them. Russian, I think. One had a rough voice. It wasn’t what they said. It was how they said it. Cold. Clipped. It... scared me.”

He saw the shiver slide down her spine and didn’t press.

She shook her head, attempting to dismiss the situation. “It probably wasn’t the men that scared me. It was everything else. The wedding. Petra. The mark. The fact that I walked into a marriage I wasn’t supposed to be in, and kissed a man I wasn’t supposed to want.”

He stepped around the island and pulled her to her feet.

But just before he touched her, he hesitated. “You said you overheard something. What exactly did you hear? Are you certain it was Russian?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I still don’t know what it meant. Just that it seemed… wrong. Like I’d stumbled into a conversation that wasn’t meant to be heard.”

She paused, then added, “I’d already slipped out of the reception by then. I needed air. I needed to think. And that’s when I heard them. I couldn’t understand the words, but the tone? It sent a chill straight through me.”

Cade’s brows pulled tight, but he nodded. “And after that?”

“Then you showed up and kissed me. And everything else—Petra, the ceremony, the gravity of it all—hit me at once. The Dante Brand. You. The pull I didn’t want to name. That kiss erased it all. Made it... Navigable.”

Her words hit home. “You appeared capable of dealing with everything,” he said.

“Thanks to you.”

Only then did he reach for her. She came willingly, her breath catching as he closed the last inch of space between them.

His hand curled around her waist, not hard, but possessive. And for the first time since the ceremony, she didn’t flinch from the contact. Didn’t guard herself.

His voice dropped. Steadied. Like fact.

“You’re mine now,” he said.

He let the words settle, then added, “But I don’t want the version of you I met at Leif’s. The one who pretended to be flaky and oblivious. That was a mask. Maybe it kept you safe once, but it doesn’t belong here. Not with me.”

His gaze never wavered. “From this point on, I want honesty. All of it. Even if it’s messy. Even if it scares you. I want the woman behind the performance. The one I married. That’s the only version of you I’ll accept.”

A single heartbeat passed between them. Then another.

She whispered, “That doesn’t scare me.”

But Cade saw the lie in her eyes. Not fear of him. She wasn’t afraid of his forcefulness or his name or the Brand. She was afraid of what it meant to be seen. Exposed. The woman she tried so hard to hide behind cleverness and chaos.

And yet, she said the words. Not because they were true, but because she wanted them to be.

An emotion tightened in his chest. Not pain. Not heat. Something deeper. Authentic. Because he didn’t want the illusion. He wanted her. The bruised, brilliant, blazing truth of her.

And that was terrifying for both of them.

“Being absolutely honest with me should scare you,” he said quietly. Truth without malice. Because letting someone see the real you without defenses, without armor, was the most dangerous thing either of them could do. And the bravest.

He kissed her, dark and thorough. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask, didn’t pretend. His hands slid to her hips, securing her, claiming her. She let him. No flinching, no filter, no mask. Just Elise, real and honest and his.

Her body folded into his like it had been built to fit there, like her bones remembered something her mind was only just accepting. She sighed against his mouth, the sound soft and staggering, and it feathered all the way down to his spine.

He deepened the kiss, just for a second—because he could, because she let him—and then pulled back before it consumed them both.

Not here. Not now. Not in the kitchen, where it smelled like cedar and citrus and still held the edge of too many confessions.

“Not yet,” he murmured against her lips, breath harsh. “But soon.”

He pulled back just enough to see her eyes, dark with heat, yes, but shadowed too. Uncertainty flickered there. Not fear of him, but of what came next. Of what it meant to give in completely. To let this be real.

And beneath the nerves, something deeper shimmered. Want. Brutal and quiet and unspoken, but there.

He saw it. And he honored it.

“Come upstairs,” he said. Not slick or seductive, but steady and clear. “Let me show you what this really is.”

She hesitated. Just a second. Then nodded.

She followed him, her steps quiet but sure. Never surrender. Maybe not seduction. Something braver. A woman walking into the unknown with her eyes open.

And as they reached the landing, he glanced back at her—just once—and saw the mask was gone.

She whispered, “Okay. I’m ready.”