The Heiress' Re Chapter 46

Chapter 46: Chapter 46

A R I A N A

My eyes peeked open slowly and the first thing I felt was warmth, a heavy warm weight across my stomach.

I opened my eyes fully as, morning light was filtering through the curtains.

I looked down.

Dante’s arm was wrapped around , his face buried in my hair, he was still asleep, breathing deeply as he clung to , like he was afraid I would disappear in the night.

A deep blush spread across my cheeks as mories from last night flooded back like a wave of nostolgia.

The kisses.

His touches.

The things he said.

The way he made

feel.

It was all so intense, so magical and I never thought I could feel that way ever since Angelo, if anything it was nothing compared to Angelo.

Who would have thought we’d get to this.

I gently traced my finger along his lips, they were softer than they looked.

He groaned in his sleep, a low, rumbling sound, and pulled

closer.

I gasped softly, my heart doing a funny little flip.

Carefully, so I wouldn’t wake him, I slipped out from under his arm, he mumbled sothing and reached for

in his sleep, but then settled back down.

I stood by the bed for a mont, just looking at him he looked younger when he slept.

Peaceful.

The harsh lines of his face were softened.

I felt a strange feeling in my chest, I don’t know why I was feeling this way, it felt new.

Was I developing feelings for Dante Russo?

No!

It can’t be, it’s not possible I’ve already gave up on love.

Just like yesterday , I was ready to divorce him now, I wanted to crawl back into bed and stay there forever.

My stomach growled, loudly.

I was starving.

We never had dinner last night.

I saw one of Dante’s big black shirts thrown over a chair, I picked it up and put it on a small smile trialing on my lips, it slled like him.

His cologne,just him, gosh I was starting to get obsessed.

The shirt was huge on , falling almost to my knees.

I tiptoed out of the room and made my way down to the kitchen the mansion was quiet.

I found eggs and bread deciding to make scrambled eggs and toast, I was not a great cook, but I could manage that.

As I cracked the eggs into a bowl, I kept thinking about last night my face felt hot again. I stirred the eggs, a silly little smile on my face.

Thr way he held .

His passive look when Angelo had almost kiss ,.

God! I wasn’t suppose to be thinking this way or having this emotions it feels so wrong yet so right.

What if Dante was using

as one of his whore, and he just needed a bed warr or his other dirty ulterior motives?

I waved off the negative thoughts as I stored the food.

My life right now felt so... normal.

So dostic.

And so completely unexpected.

I was just putting the toast in the toaster when I heard a deep voice behind .

"I hope that’s for

too."

I jumped and turned around Dante was leaning against the kitchen doorway, wearing only a pair of low-slung sweatpants his hair was ssy from sleep.

He was smiling a little.

His smile was so perfect, he looked so differently handso and breathtaking.

My blush ca back full force. "Maybe," I said, trying to sound casual. "If you’re nice."

He walked over to , his eyes warm as he wrapped his arms around

from behind and kissed my shoulder. "I can be nice," he murmured.

Dante kept his arms around , his chin resting on my shoulder as he watched

scramble the eggs, I could feel the heat of his bare chest against my back through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"You are a terrible cook," he teased, his voice a low rumble in my ear.

I tried to play it cool, even though my whole body was buzzing. "I am not! I can make eggs."

"They are burning," he said calmly.

I gasped and quickly turned off the stove.

The eggs were a little brown on the edges. "See what you did?" I said, pretending to be annoyed. "You distracted ."

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that vibrated through . "My apologies, wifey."

The word ’wifey’ didn’t sound like an insult anymore.

It sounded... nice.

We sat at the small kitchen table to eat.

It was quiet for a few minutes, just the sound of us eating.

Then Dante put down his fork and looked at , his expression serious. "I want to start over," he said. "I want to do things differently."

I looked at him, surprised. "Differently how?"

"We didn’t start off in a clean slate and I want to change that" He reached across the table and took my hand. "I want to take it slow, I want to do things right."

I didn’t know what to say.

This was not the Dante I knew.

The Dante I knew took what he wanted.

He didn’t ask.

He didn’t wait.

"We can go on dates," he continued, his thumb stroking my knuckles. "We can talk, get to know each other for real this ti."

I was silent, just staring at our joined hands.

My mind was racing, trusting Dante Russo was like signing a deal with the devil.

Could we really start over? Was that even possible after everything?

Was I willing to risk it?

"You do not have to answer now," he said softly. "I know it is a lot, I know I have given you many reasons not to trust—"

I cut him off by pushing the chair back and running off feeling overwheld.