Page 78 of Shadows of Steel
“Harlow, come on!” Mattia calls from the water, his voice brimming with excitement. “Jump in!”
I lazily crack one eye open. “No, I’m perfectly fine right here.”
Dante glances up from his laptop, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “You haven’t so much as dipped a toe in the water.”
I wave him off dismissively. “It’s unnecessary. I’m quite content as I am.”
He closes his laptop, leaning forward, his gaze settling on me with interest. There’s mischief flickering in his dark eyes, something unsettlingly smug.
I tense. “Don’t you dare say it.”
His smirk deepens, slow and taunting. “You don’t know how to swim.”
Mattia gasps, eyes wide with disbelief, as if I’ve just committed the gravest sin imaginable. “Wait—you don’t?!”
I exhale sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Just let it be.”
Dante studies me, his gaze glinting with something indecipherable. Then, without a word, he rises to his feet, extending a hand toward me. “Come.”
I shake my head immediately, inching back. “No, no, absolutely not.”
Before I can react, his hand closes around mine.
“Dante, no!” I try to dig my heels in, but he’s already pulling me toward the edge, his grip strong and unwavering.
“Relax, Leonessa.” His voice is smooth, coaxing. “I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
Before I can fully process what’s happening, his arms are around me, strong, unyielding, and the world tilts as he effortlessly lifts me off my feet.
A startled gasp escapes my lips as I grasp at his shoulders, but it’s useless. Dante moves with purpose, his grip firm, as he carries me straight toward the water.
Chapter 24
Dante
As I hold my wife in my arms, her bare skin flush against mine, her scent invades my lungs, drowns my senses. I almost groan.
Fucking vanilla. It’s everywhere, wrapped around me, clinging to my skin, filling my head until she’s the only thing I can breathe in. My grip tightens, my fingers digging into her soft flesh as I stride toward the edge of the yacht. Every movement presses her closer, every shift of her body igniting something raw, that coils low in my stomach.
“Hold your breath.” I murmur, my voice low.
Harlow stiffens instantly. “Don’t you dare—”
The words are ripped from her lips as I plunge into the water. She takes a sharp inhale, her body tensing against mine, but it’s too late. A muffled scream is swallowed by the ocean as we hit the surface, the cold rushing around us, a violent splash expanding outward, sending ripples across the endless blue.
The moment we break through, her arms clutch tighter around my neck, her nails digging into my skin as if she thinks I might let her go. Like I ever would.
Mattia’s laughter echoes around us, bright and carefree, his small form bobbing in the water nearby. “That was amazing!”
My attention is locked on the wild panic in my wife's eyes, the way she clings to me in something dangerously close to fear.
It should have been obvious. How the fuck did it escape me that she can’t swim?
The thought twists my insides. Harlow never asks for help, never admits weakness, never clings to anything but her own pride. And yet, right now, her legs are locked around mywaist, her nails pressing into my shoulders, her breath unsteady against my throat.
“Don’t let go.” She murmurs, barely above a whisper.
A plea.
