Chapter 9: Valentina

Valentina’s POV

The next morning, I found my mom in the sitting room, her gaze fixed on the television. The soft drone of the news filled the space, but I was too distracted by my thoughts to register the words.

“Did you sleep well, darling?” she asked without turning her head.

Sleep? Hardly.

I had spent the night tossing and turning, Dante’s teasing words echoing in my mind. His voice, his smirk, the way his eyes had darkened as he taunted me—it was maddening. Worse, I couldn’t shake the image of him leaning casually against the doorframe of my room, his presence suffocating and intoxicating all at once.

Even this morning, as I’d passed his door on the way downstairs, I’d caught a glimpse of him through the half-open doorway. He was sprawled across his bed, the sheet draped loosely over his hips, his muscular chest rising and falling with the slow rhythm of sleep.

I’d looked too long.

Clearing my throat, I forced my mind back to the present. “It would be easier to sleep if the hero of the story moved out,” I said, keeping my tone light.

My mother turned to me, her brows knitting together. “Dante?”

“Who else?” I replied, sinking into the chair across from her. “He’s... distracting.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips. “I think he’s a good person, Valentina. He’s been through a lot, but he’s here now, and that should count for something.”

Her change in attitude caught me off guard. “Are you forgetting his mother’s mysterious death? Or the fact that there’s hardly any trace of him online? You don’t think it’s strange that someone like him keeps his life so well hidden?”

Her smile faltered, but she remained composed. “I don’t think we should judge him so harshly, especially when we know so little.”

“Exactly my point,” I said, leaning forward. “We know so little. He could be dangerous, Mom. You could be in danger.”

“Danger from who?”

The deep, familiar voice made my stomach drop.

I turned slowly, my heart pounding as Dante stepped into the room, his damp hair clinging to his forehead. He wore a simple black tank top that clung to his chest, sweat glistening on his skin from an early morning run. His gray eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked between me and my mother.

“You’ve been talking about me behind my back?” he asked, his tone teasing.

I stood abruptly, heat creeping up my neck as I struggled to meet his gaze. “It’s not what you think,” I said quickly.

“No?” He smirked, crossing his arms. “Because it sounded like you were giving a detailed report on how dangerous I am.”

My eyes flicked to his arms, then back to his face, and I hated how aware I was of him—how the lines of his body seemed to demand my attention.

“I was just being cautious,” I said, straightening my shoulders.

He stepped closer, his smirk deepening. “I appreciate the concern, sister.”

I bristled at the word, the heat in my cheeks intensifying. “Don’t call me that.”

Before he could respond, I turned on my heel and marched out of the room, my pulse racing.

—-

The shower was meant to be an escape, a chance to cool my flushed cheeks and calm my frayed nerves. But as the hot water cascaded over me, my thoughts refused to settle.

Dante had overheard everything. Worse, the way he looked at me—like he was in control, like he was waiting for me to slip—made my stomach twist.

I turned off the water and reached for the towel I’d left on the counter, only to find the space empty.

“Damn it,” I muttered, glancing around the bathroom.

A knock on the door made me freeze.

“Forget something?” Dante’s voice was unmistakable, low and teasing.

My throat tightened. “Leave it outside the door,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

There was a pause, then the sound of the door opening slightly. Through the frosted glass, I could see his silhouette—broad shoulders, tall frame. He stepped closer, holding out the towel, and for a moment, I hated how my body reacted to his presence.

I reached for the towel, but his voice stopped me.

“You could say thank you, kitten.”

I gritted my teeth, snatching the towel from his hand. “Thank you,” I said sharply, wrapping it around myself.

He didn’t leave. Instead, his silhouette lingered, his head tilted slightly as if studying me through the glass.

“Do you always look this flustered after a shower?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.

“Do you always invade people’s privacy?” I shot back, tightening the towel around me.

Another low chuckle. “You’re fun to mess with, Valentina. You should see yourself right now. If you’re not careful, you’ll—”

I shifted too quickly, my foot slipping against the wet tiles. Before I could fall, the door opened, and his arms were around me, steadying me.

The towel slipped slightly, but I clung to it, my chest heaving as I met his gaze.

His eyes were darker now, his grip firm against my waist. “Careful, kitten,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

“Stop calling me that,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“I would,” he said, his lips curling into a slow smile. “But I’d rather call you something else entirely.”

My breath hitched as his eyes dipped briefly to my lips.

“Like what?” I asked, my voice shaky.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against my cheek. “Not sister,” he murmured. “That barrier can be broken... with the right kiss.”

I stared at him, my mind a chaotic mess of emotions. Anger, desire, frustration—they all battled for control, leaving me frozen in place.

His hands tightened slightly on my waist, and I realized with a jolt that he was aroused.

He kissed my earlobe, and I felt his hard cock: "Do you want me to break that barrier here?"