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Dante
“What the fuck did you say that for?” I hiss at Marlena after she introduces me.
“Because we’re not finished yet, handsome,” she murmurs back.
“Yes, we are,” I snarl, and she gives me a simpering little smile that makes me want to tell her exactly what I think of her and her little game.
I pull myself back together and take the podium. I thank Marlena. I glance around, looking for Samantha. I knew I saw her with LeeAnn…
And that’s when I see a flash of gold silk, dark hair. She’s walking out of the ballroom, quickly, determined, and she doesn’t look back.
Walking out of my life. My heart stops, and it feels like everything moves in slow motion.
There she is, walking away from me. She’s almost gone.
There’s Marlena, that cold little smirk on her face.
Everything I’ve ever wanted is leaving the ballroom with Samantha.
Fuck.
Not now.
I can’t lose her.
I mumble a few words and then fight my way through the crowd of well-wishers, trying to catch up with her.
No, no, no.
I give up trying to be subtle, and I run to the doors that lead into the lobby, bursting through and looking around.
I find her just in time to see fucking Anton with his hands on her. She jerks away, and he grabs her arm.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m charging him, and my fist connects with his face. The wet sound of his nose breaking satisfies me more than I’d like to admit, and the only thing that stops me from picking him up and hitting him again is seeing Samantha moving away from me again. She’s walking down the flight of stairs toward the exit, gold satin fluttering behind her, and I run after her. She’s outside and down the marble stairs before I finally catch up with her.
“Samantha!”
I see her shoulders tense, her head drop forward, and she slowly turns and looks at me.
The anguish in her eyes is enough to destroy me. Her mouth is clamped shut, and she crosses her arms over herself. It feels like she’s closing in, shutting herself away from the world.
Shutting herself away from me.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” I murmur as I step closer to her. She takes a step back, and I freeze.
“No, Dante. He didn't hurt me,” she says in this empty, robotic voice that makes me want to hit something again. She emphasizes the word “he,” and it’s clear all of a sudden which of us actually did hurt her.
“Baby—”
“You should go back in there. You have people waiting for you,” she says.
“I don’t give a shit.”
“Well, your fiancée won’t be happy you’re out here.”
“Fucking Marlena. She’s not my fiancée,” I say forcefully, and she gives me this look like she thinks I’m full of shit. “We were engaged once upon a time. I broke it off. I don’t want a fucking trophy wife.”
“Yeah? Then why’d she say that?”
