Page 16 of And Back

"What do you want from me?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper

"Spend a week with me," he replies smoothly, his tone almost casual. "Give me a chance at your heart.

My stomach tightens at his proposition. "And what if I don't like you at the end of the week?" I counter, trying to keep the fear from seeping into my voice.

Dante leans back slightly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "If you don't like me by the end of the week, I'll let you go back to Virgilio," he promises. "But if you refuse my deal... I won’t refrain from following my father’s orders. It's your choice."

Why is this happening?

"Why do you want this?" I ask, my voice trembling slightly, “Why do you want me?”

Dante's eyes bore into mine, his expression serious. "Ever since you started talking about Virgilio, I began to wonder if I could be your Virgilio. When I found out the truth, it didn't change how I felt. I still want a chance."

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. "And if I refuse?" I ask, needing to hear it again.

Dante’s expression hardens. "Then I follow my father’s orders," he says simply.

My past triggers something in me. A part of me cannot disobey when faced with a man's demands. Over the years, I have been molded into a slave who pleases her master and anything his commanding tone requests. But then I realize that this time, it's different. This time, it's about protecting Virgilio.

I look into his eyes, searching for any sign of compassion or hesitation. There’s none. I feel the weight of my decision pressing down on me. How can I trust him? But what choice do I have?

"Okay," I say softly but firmly. "I accept."

As I agree to his terms, a part of me feels like I’m betraying Virgilio. But another part, the one shaped by years of trauma, accepts it as a means of survival. I have to do this. For Virgilio.

I wake up in a bed that feels too soft, too foreign. The luxurious linens do little to comfort me. My eyes scan the room—everything is perfect, sterile, and devoid of any personal touch. It’s a beautiful prison, wrapped in gold and silk.

With a sigh, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. The plush carpet underfoot feels like a deceitful comfort, cushioning my steps as I make my way to the adjoining bathroom. Marble counters and a spacious shower greet me, their cold elegance feels mocking to my chaotic thoughts.

The hot water is soothing against my skin, washing away some of the tension that has built up over the past few days. I stand under the stream for longer than necessary, hoping the cascading water can cleanse the emotional grime clinging to me.

As I shampoo my hair and lather soap over my body, my mind continues to race with thoughts of Virgilio and Dante. Their faces blur together in the steam, like a mingling of memories and emotions that refuse to settle. I really hope I can pull this off.

After my shower, I wrap myself in a plush towel and stand before the mirror, taking a moment to steady myself. My reflection looks back at me with determination and fear. I brush my teeth, comb through my hair, and let out a breath.

Dressed in the mid-length gown from the several elegant options Dante bought for me, I take a final look in the mirror, hoping that my composed appearance will help me face whatever comes next. But the dress feels like another layer of pretense, a costume for a role I never wanted.

A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. I quickly finish getting ready and open it to find Dante standing there, looking composed and calm.

“Good morning,” he says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. “I’d like you to follow me.”

I nod, not trusting my voice to respond. I trail behind him through the winding corridors of the compound, my thoughts a chaotic whirl of what-ifs and doubts. The compound's focus on security is evident in every step we take, from the armed guards to the strategically placed cameras. It feels suffocating. It's almost like a gilded cage with no escape, but I chose this, didn't I?

Dante leads me outside to a garden area within the compound grounds. A small pond shimmers under the sunlight, and a checkered blanket is spread out on the grass. A wicker basket filled with snacks and a bottle of wine sits invitingly on the blanket. The ambiance is eerily serene.

“I thought we could use a break from all the tension,” Dante says, gesturing towards the setup. “A simple picnic seemed perfect.”

I can't help but be surprised by the thoughtfulness of it all. “It’s beautiful here,” I admit softly, taking in the scene. “I didn’t expect this.”

Dante sits down on the blanket and motions for me to join him. “Sometimes, the simplest things are the most enjoyable,” he replies.

I settle onto the blanket, feeling both unease and curiosity.

Dante pours me a glass of wine, his movements careful and deliberate. He hands it to me with a smile, then starts unpacking the wicker basket. Fresh bread, cheese, olives, and an assortment of fruits spill out onto the blanket. Each item is meticulously arranged, a testament to his attention to detail.

“Try this,” he says, offering me a piece of cheese. “It’s imported from Italy.”

I take a bite, savoring the creamy texture. “It’s delicious,” I admit, though my mind is elsewhere.

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