Page 18 of And Back

I nod but can’t completely shake off the thoughts of Virgilio. It feels like betraying him just by being here with Dante, even if it’s part of my plan to protect him. Guilt gnaws at me, sharp and relentless, turning every smile and kind word from Dante into a bitter reminder of my divided loyalties. The memory of Virgilio’s protective embrace lingers at the edges of my mind, making it difficult to focus on the present moment.

I take another sip of wine, savoring the flavor but feeling unease settle in my stomach. The wine’s warmth does little to relieve the cold dread that has taken root within me. Dante tries to keep the conversation lighthearted. His efforts to connect are almost endearing, yet they feel hollow, like a performance designed to distract me from the storm inside.

"You know, Zoe," he begins, his voice smooth as silk, "your sketches are truly remarkable. I can see the passion in every line."

I offer him a small smile. "Thank you. Fashion has always been my escape." My words come out softly, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. Each sketch, each design, is a piece of my soul, a fragment of the dreams Virgilio encouraged me to pursue.

He nods, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes me shift slightly. "I can tell. It's more than just work for you; it's a part of who you are."

I can't help but think about how Virgilio always supported my dreams. "Yes, it is," I reply. A flicker of sadness crosses my mind as I think back to his unwavering belief in me, the way he made me feel capable of achieving anything.

Dante reaches for a piece of bread, spreading some cheese on it before offering it to me. I take the bread and nibble on it thoughtfully. The act feels strangely intimate, yet my heart remains conflicted. His gestures are kind, but they can't erase the shadow of Virgilio dominating my thoughts.

"You know," Dante continues, "I'd love to see more of your work sometime."

"I'd like that," I reply softly. The words feel automatic, devoid of the genuine enthusiasm I have when sharing my designs with Virgilio.

We lapse into another moment of silence before Dante speaks again. “Have you ever thought about where you'd like to take your designs next?”

"All the time,” I say honestly. “Virgilio used to?—”

“Zoe,” Dante interrupts gently but firmly this time, “I’m not Virgilio. Focus on now, with me.”

His eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch for a moment. The demand in his gaze is clear. He’s urging me to be present, to forget the past if only for a while.

“Right,” I say softly. “The now.”

CHAPTER TEN

VIRGILIO

Dante's message from yesterday replays in my mind, a taunting reminder of Zoe's whereabouts. Gloating, he said she chose to stay with him for a week. Fury boils within me, but I try to maintain a calm exterior. My hands clench into fists at my sides, knuckles white with suppressed rage.

I feel betrayed by Zoe's actions, yet guilt gnaws at me for not protecting her better. I can't shake the image of Dante using her against me, the same way a spiteful brother would use his sibling's favorite toy to provoke jealousy and get attention. It's childish and petty, and it enrages me even more.

Dante resents me, not just for keeping our past a secret, but for the life I had with Zoe. He’s angry I hid who I really was for so long, and now he’s using Zoe as a pawn in his twisted game of revenge.

Why did Zoe agree to this? Was it fear of losing me again? Was it a trauma response, conditioned by years of cruelty? The thought that she might have felt forced into this only intensifies my anger and guilt.

I should have protected her better. I should have anticipated Dante’s moves. Instead, I let my guard down, and now Zoe is caught in the middle of our plan.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I can’t let Dante win. I have to stay focused. Zoe needs me to be strong, to find a way to bring her back safely.

My stomach tightens as I reach for my car keys on the side table and head out to the driveway. The cool night air hits my face as I step outside, but it does little to quell the fire within me. The sleek black car waits like a predator ready to pounce.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I grip the steering wheel tightly and start the engine. I drive off into the night, heading to the meeting place Dante specified.

My jaw clenches as I think about what she might be enduring right now—what she might be feeling. Does she feel safe? Or is she regretting her decision?

The lights of passing cars blur as I speed towards our destination. My heart pounds with every mile that brings me closer to facing Dante—and potentially losing Zoe forever.

I pace the secluded room, a study filled with dark wood furniture and heavy drapes. My fists clench and unclench, as I struggle to control my rage. The only sound is the faint ticking of an antique clock on the mantle.

Dante stands calmly by the window, hands in his pockets, his face a mask of composure. The shadows from the drapes dance across his face, making him look almost sinister.

"Why are you doing this?" I demand, my voice rising with emotion. "Why are you trying to steal Zoe from me?"

Dante turns slowly, his green eyes locking onto mine with an infuriating calmness. "I'm not trying to steal her, Virgilio. Zoe's actions are her own. She has the right to choose."

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