Page 57 of Merciless Billionaire's Savage Desire

"Forty million," another voice rang out across the auction. Heads turned as all eyes searched for the bidder. It was Luca.

Dante’s gaze snapped to Luca, his eyes narrowing. Without a second thought, he raised the bid again. "Fifty million."

The bidding war between the two men escalated, each of them bidding higher and higher.

"Eighty million," the auctioneer called.

"A hundred million," Dante bid, his voice calm, unbothered.

Anya couldn’t take it anymore. "Goddamn it," she hissed, her hands flying to grab his arm. "Leave it. Please, come with me." She stood up, trying to pull him away from the auction.

“Anya, sit down. Where are you going?” Dante’s eyes locked onto her.

"Dante, stop bidding," she pleaded. "I don’t want the ring. Don’t worry about it."

But Dante remained unmoved. "Sit down. I’m getting you your gift."

In a moment of desperation, Anya snatched the bidding card from his hand, pulling him out of the auction room with all her strength.

Dante had no choice but to follow, though a deep scowl darkened his face.

"It doesn’t matter what gift you give me," Anya said quickly, but softly, her voice carrying a trace of frustration. "The price doesn’t matter at all, I promise."

Dante turned his head, his eyes flicking to Luca, who was still watching them intently. As Anya pulled him toward the exit, Luca’s gaze never left her, and he raised his bid one last time, the number jumping to one hundred and fifty million just as they were about to leave the hall.

Anya pulled him toward the exit, her hand gripping his as they neared his car. Before she could even catch her breath, grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around and pinning her against the side of the car. His gaze was intense, burning into her as he leaned down, his voice low and dangerous.

“Anya, do you like me?”

She froze, stunned.

"Do you like me? Love me?" he repeated, his voice low, almost possessive.

Anya didn’t know how to respond. "What’s going on? Why are you acting like this today?"

Dante’s glare intensified as his mind replayed Luca’s every move. He’d noticed the way Luca had kept his eyes on Anya since they entered the auction. The man hadn’t looked at him once, not even when Dante had raised the bid. But the moment Luca saw him bidding for the ring, he immediately jumped in, trying to match Dante’s offer. As if he was waiting to see what Anya would choose, then swooping in with his own bid.

It was well-known that Luca Stanson was one of the richest men in the country. Dante had always known about Luca's influence and his partnership with Mr. Carter, but the way Luca looked at Anya made Dante’s chest tighten so painfully that he could barely breathe.

He couldn't pinpoint the emotion, but the mere thought of that bastard looking at Anya like that again stirred something dark in him—a consuming rage that twisted inside him.

"Answer me," Dante said, his voice low and hard. "Tell me... Do you like me?"

“Why are you suddenly asking me that?” Anya asked, her brow furrowed.

His grip on her tightened, pulling her closer. His eyes burned into hers, as if he was trying to search her soul. “I will never marry into Carters’. You’re the one I want to marry, Anya.”

Anya stiffened, her heart pounding in her chest. Dante's words hit her like a cold splash of water, and for a moment, she felt something inside her break.

‘What he means is, he's trying to use me as a shield for his arranged marriage…’ Her face fell, and the sadness that swept over her was deep, darkening her expression. ‘Is that all I am to him? A shield for his arranged marriage?’

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze directly. Her lips quivered slightly as she forced a smile, though it hurt. "Give me some time," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll tell you after my birthday. It’s just two days away. You won’t have to wait much longer."

Dante’s jaw clenched at her words. His eyes darkened, and his grip on her tightened even more.

He wanted her for himself. The very thought that she might be trying to avoid it, that she might not feel the same way, was tearing him apart. The burn in his chest was unbearable, but he couldn’t stop it.

He fought to keep his emotions in check but failed. He looked away, trying to regain control, when her fingers gently touched his cheek. She pulled his face down to look into her eyes, a teasing smile on her lips.

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