Page 103 of Merciless Billionaire's Savage Desire

Luca, who had been quietly watching Anya’s unusual behavior with a hint of confusion, now understood the reason.

Dante stopped beside their table, the air around him practically crackling. His voice came out low, tight, every syllable soaked in venom. “Aren’t you getting a bit too close to your friend?”

Her words didn’t just sting—they sliced.

Then she turned to Luca. “Luca, please take me home. I can’t eat like this.”

Dante stood there, trembling, rage crawling under his skin like fire ants. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, butAnya didn’t even glance at him again. She rose with elegance, composed as ever, and walked past him without pause.

Luca followed, throwing a smug, sideways smile that only fueled Dante’s fire.

Dante remained still, fists clenched, eyes dark with fury. The restaurant’s warm lighting and soft music suddenly felt suffocating. A second later, the word tore from his throat like a curse he couldn’t hold back—

“Motherfucker!”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving Jennifer staring after him in stunned silence.

The moment Dante stepped into the cold night air, it hit him like a slap. But it did nothing to calm him. If anything, the chill only sharpened the burn inside him.

He yanked the car door open, slammed it shut, and gripped the wheel with shaking hands. His knuckles turned white. His chest heaved with rage, breaths shallow and uneven. He drove straight to Anya’s new apartment—the address Jennifer had quietly handed over days ago.

He didn’t even remember the drive. Just red lights he wanted to smash through, horns that blared when he pushed too hard, too fast. His mind was a mess of flashing images—Anya feeding Luca, smiling at him, touching his lips. That smug bastard’s face. The way she leaned in so close, like Dante had never existed.

When he finally pulled up in front of her building, he didn’t bother waiting. He climbed out and headed straight up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The hallway outside herapartment was quiet, the silence very loud. He slammed his finger against the doorbell.

It took a minute, but eventually, the door creaked open.

Anya stood there in her silk, long nightdress, barefoot, hair slightly messy. She blinked, caught off guard. “What the hell?” she muttered.

Dante didn’t say a word. He brushed past her and walked straight in, eyes scanning the space like he expected Luca to appear from behind a wall.

But the apartment was empty.

Anya followed him in, voice rising with frustration. “What the hell?! You can’t just barge in here!”

He turned to face her, his expression hard. “Where is Luca?”

Her face froze for a second before her expression tightened. “That has nothing to do with you. Get out, Mr. Kings—”

“Stop,” he said, voice low and clipped. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. “Stop calling me that. I’m Dante to you! Call me ‘Mr.’ one more damn time, and I swear I’ll show you what consequences really mean.”

Anya stiffened. Her teeth clenched at his words. “I told you to get out of my place. Why won’t you listen to me?”

“What’s going on between you and him?” he shot back. “You’ve gotten bold, Anya. You don’t even hesitate before putting your hands on him in front of me?”

“I can touch whoever I want!” she snapped. “I’ve told you a hundred times. What I do now has nothing to do with you, Mr. King—”

The very next second, he marched over and grabbed her jaw, his other hand gripping her shoulder as he pushed her back. Her body hit the wall with a soft thud, and he pinned her there, his face inches from hers, breath ragged with fury.

“You keep rejecting me,” he growled, voice low and tight. “Every damn time I’m trying to fix us, you push me away. Is it because of Luca?”

His voice was filled with frustration, but there was pain too—so much that he couldn’t control it. He was trying to hold himself back, but it was getting harder to explain the depth of the agony he was drowning in.

She stilled, her brows drawing together as she caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath. “Did you drink?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he gritted out in a deathly calm voice. “Tell me—do you love me?”

“What love?” she shot back without hesitation, making him stiffen. His hold on her jaw slipped to her neck.

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