The Heiress' Re Chapter 26

Chapter 26: Chapter 26

A R I A N A

The car ride ho felt endless, my mind raced with Bella’s threats, the deleted blog posts, and one burning question why did Dante really help ?

Was it just to protect his reputation? His precious Russo na?

Or was there another reason?

I needed answers.

I closed from work late today... mostly cause I spent my day sulking and lost, I barely got enough work done.

As I got ho, I see Dante’s Car parked suprisingly he was ho earlier than usual, I shrugged his thought off as I walked to my room, tossing my purse on the bed.

I needed to confront him and ask why he’d help, my hands shook as I paced, rehearsing what I would say to Dante knowing very well I lose words when I’m around him.

My thoughts co to a halt as the door creaked open.

I whirled around and there he was, Dante stood in the doorway, his suit jacket gone, sleeves rolled up to reveal those strong forearms I hated noticing.

His expression was unreadable.

"You’re ho late," he said calmly.

All my rehearsed words vanished, srized by his looks.

Shaking it off, I asked.

"Why did you do it?" I demanded, storming toward him. "Why delete those posts? Was it for publicity? To make yourself look good?"

Dante’s jaw tightened as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "You’re my wife. No one insults you."

"Bullshit!" I snapped. "We both know this marriage is fake! You don’t care about !"

His eyes darkened, In two strides, he was in front of , so close I could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. "You don’t get to decide what I care about."

The intensity in his voice made my breath hitch.

I shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge. "Stop lying! You only helped

because—"

"Angelo works at your company," Dante interrupted coldly. "Fire him, tomorrow. I don’t want him near you."

The demand stunned . "What? No!"

Dante’s hands gripped my waist, pulling

flush against him. "Do it, or I will."

I struggled in his hold. "You can’t control everything!"

"I can when it cos to you," he growled.

We were nose to nose now, both breathing hard. His scent that damn expensive cologne mixed with sothing purely Dante filled my senses.

Damn you Dante Russo!

I fucking hate you!

"Why do you even care?" I whispered.

For a second, just a second, sothing flickered in his eyes, sothing raw and real.

Then it was gone.

"Because you’re mine," he said simply, like that explained everything.

And the worst part?

Part of

believed him, my heart precisely.

"You don’t get to decide who works at my company!" I shouted, shoving against Dante’s chest again. "It’s my family’s business, not yours!"

Dante didn’t move, his hands stayed locked around my waist like. "You don’t understand how possessive I am over what’s mine," he growled.

"I’m not your-"

"I don’t fucking care about your past with Angelo," he interrupted, his voice rough. "But now you’re mine and I won’t have him near you."

His words should have made

angry. Instead, heat pooled low in my stomach.

I bit on my lower lip suddenly all the right reasons leaving my head.

I hated how Dante made

feel, I wasn’t suppose to be feeling that way towards him.

My thoughts co to a halt as Dante’s whole body tensed his grip on

loosened pained groan escaped his lips as he grabbed his head with one hand.

"Dante?" My anger vanished. "What’s wrong?"

He didn’t answer his face twisted in pain, before I could react, he collapsed forward, his heavy body pressing

into the bed.

"Dante!" I gasped, struggling under his weight.

His face buried into my neck, his skin burning against mine. "Fuck," he mumbled, his breath scorching hot.

I managed to wiggle one arm free and pressed my hand to his forehead, he was on fire.

"You’re burning up!" I tried pushing him off, but he was too heavy. "Dante, you need to let

go! You’re sick!"

He groaned again, his nose nuzzling against my throat like he was seeking comfort. "Just...stay."

The word was so quiet, so unlike the usual commanding Dante, that I froze.

This wasn’t the powerful mafia boss who terrified everyone, he was just a man a sick, vulnerable man.

And for so stupid reason, my arms wrapped around him instead of pushing him away.

"Okay," I whispered, running a hand through his damp hair. "Okay, I’ll stay."

As his feverish body weighed

down, one thought kept circling my mind:

When did I start caring?

And why couldn’t I stop?