Page 32 of Merciless Billionaire's Savage Desire

“That’s fine.” His jaw tightened. “Now come back and live at my house. That way no one will worry anymore.”

“No,” she said softly, but firmly. “Thank you, but I’m doing fine. I won’t come back to your house.”

Dante’s face darkened. His lips thinned as tension rippled across his features.

“How can you stay at someone else’s place?” he asked, voice rough. “Do you even know how dangerous that is? You’re young,Anya. You shouldn’t be living with strangers. What if something happens to you?”

She looked him dead in the eyes. “Aren’t you a stranger, too?” she asked quietly. “You’re also someone else to me. Isn’t it the same thing?”

His jaw tightened, a vein throbbing beneath the skin. His dark eyes narrowed, burning with restrained fury. He jerked his face away, the storm inside him barely leashed, threatening to break free.

Anya’s heart pounded at the look on his face, but she didn’t back down. ‘He’s going to lose it when he finds out I’m Annie,’ she thought, ‘but who cares? His mother was the one who hurt her first. So what if I kept the truth from them? It didn’t compare to what Janet did. Not even close.’

She smiled to herself at the thought.

After finishing their meal, Dante and Anya stepped out of the restaurant.

Anya’s fingers trembled slightly. Walking beside Dante was nerve-wracking. He was tall—so much taller than her—and broad-shouldered, every step he took radiating quiet power. She tried focusing on her heels, trying not to stumble, unaware that his eyes never left her—not for a second.

He watched her face, her hair, the way she walked. His hands itched to reach out, to pull her into his arms, but the fear that she’d recoil from him again made him hold back.

So instead, he clenched his fists, silently restraining himself, and walked beside her.

As they descended the stairs, Anya’s foot slipped. Her heel twisted awkwardly, and she lost her balance.

Before she could even gasp, she was lifted effortlessly off the ground—strong arms cradling her.

“No—Dante!” she hissed, panicking as she turned her face away and buried it in his chest. Her cheeks burned.

“Put me down,” she whispered in his ear. “I can walk. I just tripped.”

But he didn’t listen.

He carried her down the stairs like she weighed nothing, ignoring her protests.

The bodyguards who had accompanied Anya stepped forward, alert, but Anya widened her eyes at them and subtly waved her hand, signaling them to stay back.

They paused, then returned to their positions without a word.

Dante carried her down the stairs, effortlessly holding her in his arms. He didn’t let her feet touch the ground even once. Without a word, he opened the car door and slid inside with her still in his hold.

Anya looked at him in surprise. Even though he was tall and strong, he handled her gently—making sure she didn’t bump into anything.

Once they were seated, he drew her onto his lap, her chest flush against his. Without a word, he buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in like she was the only thing keeping him sane.

“Let me go,” she whispered, trying to wriggle out of his grip.

He only tightened his arms around her. Even when the driver started the car, he didn’t loosen his hold. Instead, he pulled her closer, pressing her tighter into him.

His lips brushed her skin, warm and unhurried, as he leaned in. “You’re young, but you have to be smart now,” he murmured against her neck, his voice a low vibration that seemed to seep into her bones.

She shivered. She could feel his breath, the feather-light brush of his nose, the soft drag of his lips on her neck.

Dante wasn’t just seeking comfort. He was drowning in her—her scent, her warmth, the memory of her body wrapped around his. After that night, her fragrance had haunted him. He’d tried to find the perfume she wore, desperate to keep a piece of her in his room. But there had been no perfume. That was simply her—sweet, addictive, and maddening.

“Take care of yourself while you're staying elsewhere,” he whispered, voice soft but protective. “If you need anything, just tell me. I’ll handle it.”

Her fingers clutched his collar tightly, trembling as his mouth moved along her skin. She shivered at the warmth of his lips but didn’t pull away—though it was getting harder to hold back.

---