Page 35 of Merciless Billionaire's Savage Desire

“I’m going to start working at Kingsley Corporation from Monday,” she said quietly, her voice steady but firm. “But I need you to promise me something—don’t tell anyone that I’m your daughter. That I’m Annie.”

Charles frowned, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. “Do you think our company is smaller than Dante’s?” he asked, his tone quietly offended. “Anya, my company is bigger than Kingsley’s. If you want to work, I’ll hand it all over to you — today. You can be the CEO. Everything I have belongs to you. Why would you choose to work for someone else?”

“It’s not that,” Anya said quickly, her voice soft but earnest. “Dad, I just graduated a few months ago. I want to learn first—to prove myself, to grow into the kind of person who deserves the position. Once I’ve gained enough experience and confidence, I’ll leave that company and come work for you.”

Charles looked at her in silence for a moment, then sighed. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

Luca gave her an encouraging look, then turned to Charles. “It’s okay, Uncle Charles. She’s really talented. I’m sure she’ll return soon and take over the company like you want.”

Charles took a deep breath, then gave Anya a small smile. “Alright then. I’ll wait for you to come back and take your place. But—” he paused, his tone turning serious as he looked her in the eye, “I can’t keep the fact that you’re my daughter a secret for long. I’ll have to announce it soon. And if the truth comes out before I do, you’ll have to return immediately and start working at the company.”

“I understand,” Anya said softly. Charles finally relaxed a little, the tension in his shoulders easing.

Luca, however, kept his gaze locked on her. His jaw clenched slightly. He was trying to act calm, to support her decision, but the unease in his eyes betrayed him.

He wanted her at Carter Industries now—not later. The fact that she hadn’t rejected Dante outright left him uneasy.

‘I’ll wait for you,’ Luca thought silently, his gaze dropping from her smile to the necklace on her neck. He took a deep breath—one that didn’t quite reach his heart.

He had waited so long already… and now she was asking him to wait again, for a love that felt just out of reach.

***

“Anya, Mr. Kingsley has asked for you in his office,” a man informed her.

She nodded. She had returned to work for Dante again. And even though she still didn’t trust Janet, she wasn’t going to let that woman control her life. She had already left the Kingsley house—just as Janet wanted. She wouldn’t let the woman dictate anything else.

She picked up the file the man handed her and started walking toward Dante’s office. Her heart pounded with every step. She had only caught a glimpse of him when he arrived that morning, and they hadn’t spoken yet. Now, walking toward him sent an exhilarating shiver down her spine.

Without knocking, she opened the door and stepped inside. Dante looked up immediately, his eyes locking on her.

Her smile bloomed instinctively, and his gaze lingered on that smile the entire time as she approached his desk.

"Here, Mr. Kingsley," she said, handing him the file.

He took the file from her, eyes skimming the contents before lifting to her face—then halting at her neck. At the necklace resting there.

Her neck was delicate. Graceful. The necklace glinted against her skin, making her look even more striking.

‘Maybe I should buy her jewelry too,’ Dante thought darkly, pulse skipping. ‘Something for her ears… her thigh… her waist.’

The thought made his throat tighten. He cleared it quickly, pushing the dirty images out of his mind. He had never lost control like this over any woman. But with Anya, it was different. He felt possessed—helpless in his need for her. Craving her. Reckless. Obsessed.

Her presence overwhelmed his senses, her soft fragrance floated in the air around him, wrapping around his senses. Sweet. Addictive. He couldn’t get enough of it.

His gaze returned to her eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That necklace looks good on your neck,” he muttered, voice low and rough.

Anya blushed. Her fingers brushed the pendant lightly. “Thanks,” she whispered.

His hand reached out—large, warm, commanding—and took hers with a firm gentleness that made her breath falter. He rose from his chair, stepping into her space until there was nothing left between them but heat.

His hand slid up, tracing the delicate curve of the necklace chain that rested against her skin. His touch was slow, almost featherlight, as his rough thumb rubbed over the pendant, the metal warming instantly under his skin.

A jolt of electricity pulsed through her. Her knees weakened.

His fingers drifted down, gliding over the back of her hand. He turned it over deliberately, like he was unwrapping something precious, then caressed her palm—fingertips circling, lingering, tracing the gentle swell of the ring on her finger.

Her breath hitched. Her knees felt like they might give out at any second.

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