The Price of Protection and the Dancer Who Refused to Bend
“I am focusing,” Dante said.
He let go of my wrist, only to cup the back of my neck, pulling me slightly closer.
“When I saw those lights in the rearview mirror, my first thought was not about my business,” he murmured.
“What was it?” I asked, my breath catching in my throat.
“It was you,” he said, his dark eyes searchingly honest. “And Lily.”
The mention of my daughter made my chest tighten, but looking at Dante, I saw a vulnerability he had never allowed me to see before.
The cold, ruthless syndicate boss was gone, replaced by a man who looked genuinely afraid of losing something.
“I cannot lose you, Sophia,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I have built a wall around myself for years, but you broke through it.”
My defense mechanisms, the psychological walls I had built to survive James’s betrayal, began to crumble.
“I spent so long running from people like you,” I said, my voice shaking. “But with you, I feel like I can finally stop running.”
Dante did not say another word.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.