Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 15909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
I can't picture my life without Dante anymore. I love him. It's terrifying. And I only have two weeks to figure it out.
When Dante leaves for a business meeting, I take my chance. I want to look at the contract I signed one more time before the two weeks are up, just to see if there are any hints of what my life will be like once this is all over. Will he want me to still work for him, even though I'm well aware it's just busy work? Will he want to date me for real, or will he want to cut contact completely once it's all done?
He always locks his office, but I know where he keeps the key. It's betrayal, plain and simple, when I slip the key into the lock and turn it, but there's no going back. This is my life. I have to know.
I've been in here a few times, and while everything is clearly expensive and well-made, there's a minimalist feeling to it all that I didn't expect. Dante is single-minded when he's working, and he's made it so he has no distractions. Other than me.
My hands are shaky as I paw through the desk drawers as silently as possible. At first, all I find are invoices, various papers, and dozens of carefully labeled files. But then I see it, tucked behind everything else—a manila folder with my name scrawled on it in Dante's handwriting. My stomach drops to the floor, but I don't hesitate, plucking the file out.
My heart races as I open it, and the first thing I see isn't my contact. Instead, it's a copy of my lease for my old apartment. No, wait. When I look closer, I realize it's not the lease at all. It's actually a notice of lease termination.
Dante paid my rent for the month I moved in with him and then paid the fee to break the lease in the middle of it. My apartment is long gone, so even if I want to leave...I have no home to go back to.
Behind it is an address change form. Dante changed my address the day before I even signed the contract. He was going to move me in with him no matter what, even if I resisted signing.
I feel nauseous, but I keep going.
Next is a background check on me, which isn't that odd for someone as wealthy as Dante. What doesn't make sense, though, is the fact that it's dated two years ago. I cover my mouth to stifle a gasp. He's had eyes on me for two years, watching, waiting until he had a chance to catch me.
It all comes together with the last document in the file. All this time, I've been under the impression that one department of Dante's firm was debt acquisition, and that was how he came into possession of my father's debt. He'd never elaborated about how he knew my father even had a daughter, but I chalked it up to him simply seeing us out somewhere and coming up with the idea of our contract. But if he's been following me for two years, that's long before my father even tried to invest in the company that nearly bankrupted him.
Dante had just been watching and waiting for an opportunity to have me at his mercy, and my dad's mistake was the perfect setup. He waited until I had nowhere to run, no choice but to go to him if I wanted to help my only living parent.
I feel the room tilting around me, my head spinning. Dante has pulled every single string to bring me into his orbit. I've never even had a chance at freedom, at least not for the last two years. I've been destined to be his all this time, and I didn't even know it.
I sink into the leather office chair behind me, clutching the folder to my chest. I don't even need to read the contract anymore. I have all the proof I'll ever need to prove that I've been living in a cage this entire time.
Of course I'm angry. I feel furious, helpless, but my chest aches. Not just from betrayal, but the knowledge that even knowing how relentless Dante was in his quest to possess me, I still love him.
I wish I had never found the damn envelope. Blissful ignorance was so much better than the truth.
Dante comes home a few hours later. I've been waiting in our bedroom—his bedroom—and my pulse is racing as I hear him shut the door and move through the house. The envelope is creased from where I've been gripping it so tightly, and I try to keep my courage up to face him.
His steps are slow and unhurried. Dante never rushes. He expects the world to move faster for him when he needs it, not the other way around. Then the door opens, and he stands there, loosening his tie as he fills the doorway.