Page 21 of His Bride

Dante chuckles, the sound low and dark. “He has that effect. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to him in time.”

I turn to look out the window, watching the city lights blur past. I’m not sure I want to get used to any of this. But as Dante’s hand finds my thigh, possessive and warm, I wonder if I have a choice.

Chapter Eight

Adriana

The flickering glow of the TV screen casts dancing shadows across the living room. I’m curled up on the couch, a soft blanket draped over my legs, trying to lose myself in the movie. But my mind keeps drifting, unable to fully focus on the plot unfolding before me.

Heavy footsteps approach, and my pulse quickens. I know those steps.

Dante appears in the doorway, his imposing figure filling the frame. His grey eyes lock onto me, intense and unreadable. I resist the urge to shrink back into the cushions.

“Adriana,” he says, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

“Welcome home,” I manage to reply, my own voice sounding small in comparison.

He shrugs off his suit jacket, draping it over a nearby chair. The movement draws my eye to the gun holster visible beneath his crisp white shirt. A stark reminder of who he is, what he does.

To my surprise, Dante moves towards the couch. “What are you watching?” he asks, settling his large frame beside me.

“Oh, um, just some old movie,” I stammer, caught off guard by his proximity even though we sleep in the same bed almost every night. The scent of his cologne envelops me - spicy and masculine. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

He hums in acknowledgment, his gaze shifting to the screen. We sit in silence for a few moments, the dialogue from the film the only sound between us. I’m hyper-aware of every inch where our bodies almost touch, electricity seeming to crackle in the narrow space.

“How was your day?” he asks suddenly, turning to face me. His eyes, dark and intense, search my face. “Did you make progress on your latest project?”

I blink, thrown by the casual question. It feels so…normal. As if we’re any other married couple.

“It was…fine,” I say hesitantly. “Quiet. I worked on my webtoon for most of it.”

“Tell me about it.” There’s genuine curiosity in his tone.

I pause, unsure how much to share. The unexpected interest catches me off guard. I find myself relaxing slightly, eager to discuss my passion. “It’s going well, actually. I finished the rough sketches for the next chapter today.”

“What’s this one about?” Dante asks, shifting to face me more fully. His knee brushes against mine, and I try to ignore the jolt it sends through me.

“Well, it’s a fantasy romance,” I explain, warming to the subject. “The main character is a princess who’s been cursed to turn into a dragon at night. She falls in love with a knight who’s been sent to slay her, not realizing they’re the same person.”

A ghost of a smile tugs at Dante’s lips. “Sounds intriguing. A story of forbidden love and hidden identities.”

I nod, surprised by his perceptiveness. “Exactly. It explores themes of acceptance and seeing beyond appearances.”

“And does the knight discover her secret?” Dante asks, leaning in slightly. His eyes are intent on my face, as if memorizing every detail.

“Eventually,” I say, feeling a flush creep up my neck at his scrutiny. “But not before a lot of misunderstandings and close calls.”

Dante chuckles softly, the sound rich and warm. It’s different to his usual cold demeanor. “Of course. It wouldn’t be much of a story without some conflict.”

I find myself smiling despite my lingering unease. “True. Though sometimes I wish I could just let them be happy right away.”

“But then your readers wouldn’t stay invested,” Dante points out. “The struggle is what makes the eventual happiness worth it.”

His words strike a chord, and I wonder if he’s still talking about my webtoon or if there’s a deeper meaning. Before I can ponder it further, he speaks again.

“How many readers do you have now?”

The question startles me. I didn’t realize he knew anything about my online presence. “Um, around fifty thousand,” I admit, a hint of pride coloring my tone. “It’s grown a lot in the past few months.”

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