Chapter 95: A Faux date(2)
"Most importantly, it’s not like I know anyone that would borrow me such a massive amount of money!" she hurriedly explained, aware that she had been talking for a while, her fingers nervously tapping the edge of the table, and Dante had barely said a word, simply going ahead to fill up his wine glass.
"I would never cheat you! You didn’t have to help me when I begged you yet you did," she continued, her voice slightly trembling, even as Dante lightly shook his head, the movement slow and deliberate.
"Really? I thought I helped you because you blackmailed me?" he directly responded with a smile, his tone calm and measured, even as she shook her head harder, the motion quick and almost desperate.
"You are more powerful than me. I would have been in bigger trouble than I already was!" she added, her hands tightening slightly on her lap.
Dante slowly nodded his head as he fixed his gaze on her, eyes steady and unblinking, even as Dora could barely meet his eyes, the heat rising to her cheeks, as she heard him speak.
"You look very pretty! Prettier!" he said, and Dora couldn’t help but beam in response, the corners of her lips curling involuntarily, not caring if it was the wine he drank that was doing the talking.
Dante was very handsome, extremely so, with his platinum hair catching the light and face structure sharp and defined, and eyes that had a slightly cunning look to them, glimmering faintly in the candlelight.
He could have any woman he wanted, and she was simply glad that he asked her to be his surrogate in return, a shiver of nervous relief running down her spine.
"You’re very handsome too!" she responded, hating how unsettled she felt, her fingers fidgeting lightly on the table, while he looked completely calm and unfeeling, his composure unnerving.
"Thank you!" he responded, even as he leaned comfortably into his chair, gaze still steadily fixed on her, even as she did her best not to squirm, her knees pressing together as she continued to speak, voice slightly tighter than usual.
Doing her best to fill the space between them with words instead of silence, she forced herself to continue, the tension thick in the air.
"The wine is very good! I see why you like it!" she told him, her eyes flicking briefly to his glass, even as she watched him continue to sip from it, the crimson liquid catching the flicker of the candlelight.
"I like others just as much!" he responded with a slight shake of his head, the subtle motion making Dora feel like he was simply teasing her, until she heard him continue to speak in a more stoic tone as he swiveled his wine around in his cup, the sound of the swirl almost hypnotic.
"The contract is still on, and I’ll give you the money just like I said," he added, voice flat, eyes unflinching.
"You don’t have to..." she began to speak, shaking her head, lips pressed tightly together, but Dante made it clear that he would, his expression unchanging.
"I’ll try and take care of Tiberio, but just in case, your family will remain protected. Once the child is born, I’ll give you the money and even more, just to make sure that you’re safe!" he said, words precise and deliberate, his calm voice a stark contrast to the storm inside her chest.
Dora would have felt thankful, if not that she looked deep into his eyes and found nothing but ice there, a chill that crawled into her bones.
His movements were gentle and quiet, the slightest brush of his fingers as he set down the glass, and he even smiled like he usually did, but at that point, Dora had known him well enough to know that he was not emotionally invested in any manner.
Worse, she wasn’t sure that he could ever be, as she felt her heart race slowly in her chest, the rhythm uneven, even as she slowly nodded her head.
"You will be well taken care of, that I can assure you!" he continued, tone soft but firm, even as Dora felt her heart breaking, the warmth in her chest tightening as she realized that she was more invested than she had originally thought.
And clearly, the man in front of her only cared about the child in her stomach, so much so that she doubted that he actually saw her as anything more than a vessel he had to take care of.
She continued to nod her head, her throat tight, even as she did her best to hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes, the sting burning as she realized that no matter what she did, nothing would change.
She could have sex with him a thousand times, and he would remain the same. The worst part was that she was clearly more attached than she had previously thought, the pain heavy in her chest.
The moment this baby is born, he will send me away, she thought, a cold certainty settling over her like a weight.
The confidence she had in the thought was such that it was almost like someone had taken a hammer and nailed it right into her as she lowered her head and ate the cake on her plate, which might as well have had no taste.
Drinking the wine with a slight smile on her face, she pretended that she was okay, though every nerve in her body screamed otherwise.
She would have been angry with him, but she couldn’t, especially since not once had he ever made her feel like there was a chance that she would be allowed to remain in the estate.
It was nothing more than her own expectations and conclusions that were crushing her into dust, the weight pressing her shoulders down.
She ate more cake just so that she wouldn’t have to speak, even if he did, no longer wanting to fill the space between them with words, the silence around them growing thick and heavy.
At that moment, silence was much preferable, as she laughed at her own stupidity, a soft, hollow sound.
To think I thought we could have sex after this dinner was over, she thought to herself, letting out a quiet sigh as she raised her head, forcing a brighter expression onto her face.
Smiling brighter, she went ahead to ask him some small questions about his business, the words slightly stiff, even as she told him more about her best friend and the flower shop that had been her dream.
He listened, eyebrows slightly raised at times, and asked questions, and she went ahead to do the same, until the food was over and the wine was just about finished, the faint clinking of the glass marking the passage of time.
She was just about to get up when her head spun, a bit dizzy, surprised to feel him catch her as he wrapped his arms around her waist, the warmth of his body solid and grounding in contrast to the fluttering in her stomach, in a way that reminded her of the times they spent together.
His breath was warm, brushing her cheek, and she knew his lips would be warmer as she steadied herself against the table, the tension in her muscles loosening slightly.
Her body wanted to desperately sleep with him, even if it was for the last time, but at the same time, her body knew better than to go ahead with it, the struggle mirrored in the tightening of her stomach.
Would it be so bad to fuck him one last time? she asked herself, eyes clouding with tears, as she felt his arm around her waist tighten ever so slightly and heard his deep voice in her ears, calm and low.
"I can lead you back to your room or..." she heard him say, even as she felt herself lean on him slightly, the weight of his presence grounding her as she heard him speak.
"...or mine," he said, communicating in a way that she could clearly understand his intention, even as she slowly shook her head, heart hammering, and continued to cling to him.
Gritting her teeth hard as she spoke, "Mine! I need to rest!" she told him, her voice firm despite the trembling inside, knowing him well enough to know that he didn’t care enough to try and fight it.
