Chapter 18
Each day without her had been excruciating.
Dante spent his waking hours staring at his phone, obsessively rereading her final message: “It’s over. I don’t love you anymore.” Seven words that had destroyed his world.
With each reading, her face would flash across his mind–her smile, the warmth in her eyes when she looked at him, believing his lies. Those memories were carved into him now, impossible to erase.
Awake or asleep, she haunted him. Her silhouette, her voice, even the subtle scent of her perfume–they had become invisible chains binding his heart.
Dante had never imagined himself reduced to this state.
He had been the untouchable Dante Wolf, the ruthless businessman who would sacrifice anything for vengeance. Now he was a shell of himself, drowning in alcohol and memories, unable to pull
himself free.
The pain made no sense to him.
Rosalie was gone, but her departure had somehow taken his heart with her.
Deep down, he’d begun to recognize the truth, but couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it–or perhaps was afraid to admit it. He feared acknowledging that the woman he’d once viewed as merely a tool had become essential to his existence.
But now, facing his shocked friends, he could no longer contain it.
“YES, I FELL IN LOVE WITH HER!” His voice exploded, raw and unfiltered, as if the volume could somehow carry his confession all the way to Los Angeles. “I LOVE HER! I’VE LOVED HER FOR GOD
KNOWS HOW LONG!”
His hands trembled as he ran them through his disheveled hair. “The whole revenge scheme? It was just a lie I told myself! I was in love with her the entire time and too stubborn and blind to see it!”
His confession echoed through the penthouse, laden with months of suppressed anguish and self–loathing.
“And now she’s gone,” he continued, his voice breaking, “and I’m left here dying inside because I
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Chapter 18
pushed away the only person who ever mattered!”
Darcy stood nearby, tears filling her eyes despite her attempts to remain unmoved.
Seeing the man she’d loved for years suffering so completely over someone else was like watching her own pain reflected back at her. She recognized his agony because it matched her own–the suffering of loving someone who loved another.
In a sudden movement, she hurled her own glass against the wall. “If you love her so much, then go after her, you idiot!” she shouted, her voice sharp with a complex mixture of pain and resignation. “Stop wallowing! Beg her, grovel, do whatever it takes to get her back! Drinking yourself to death won’t change anything!”
Dante stared at her, momentary clarity breaking through his alcoholic haze. “Could I really get her back? Would she ever forgive me after what I did?”
Darcy’s voice trembled slightly. “Would you die for her?”
Without hesitation, Dante answered, “Yes.”
His friends exchanged shocked glances, barely recognizing the man before them.
“Jesus Christ,” Marcus stammered. “You’re completely serious.”
“You actually love her,” Tyler added incredulously. “The Lima girl.”
Darcy laughed bitterly, pulling a folded paper from her purse and tossing it at him. “Then go get her, you pathetic fool. That’s a ticket on tonight’s last flight to Los Angeles. Bring her back or don’t come
back at all.”
Something shifted in Dante’s eyes–a desperate hope igniting where only despair had lived for weeks. With the impulsiveness of a lovesick teenager rather than a calculating businessman, he grabbed a bottle of water and dumped it over his head, the cold shock jolting him fully awake.
Standing up, suddenly energized, he declared, “I’m going after her. Right now.”
His friends rushed forward, Jason grabbing his arm. “Wolf, slow down. You can’t go like this! You look like you’ve been living under a bridge–which is basically true. You’ll scare her off immediately.”
Dante looked down at his disheveled appearance, grimacing at the stains on his shirt. “You’re right. I
can’t see her like this.”
He strode to his bathroom and took the first real shower he’d had in days, emerging with renewed
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purpose. Standing before his closet, he hesitated, sorting through his wardrobe with uncharacteristic indecision
Finally, he selected a perfectly tailored black suit that highlighted his tall frame and commanding presence, though his eyes still betrayed his nervousness.
Tyler watched him with amazement “Are you planning to propose or something?”
“If that’s what it takes,” Dante said without a trace of irony, focused on adjusting his cufflinks.
The businessman who had once calculated every move was gone, replaced by a man who believed that if he could just reach her, just explain himself, just apologize profusely enough–she would forgive him. Everything could go back to the way it was, before he ruined it all.
Sensing his fragile state, Marcus offered, “We should come with you. You might need backup.”
Dante nodded, accepting their support without argument–another sign of how dramatically he had
changed.
He knew his current emotional state was volatile at best. Having his friends with him might help
him maintain some semblance of control
Before leaving, he turned to Darcy, his expression complex. “Why are you helping me?”
Darcy smiled sadly, tears glistening in her eyes.
“I told you I loved you. And loving someone means being able to let them go when they love someone else.” She paused, her voice dropping.
“When you see her, tell her I’m sorry for me. Jealousy blinded me, made me cruel to her.”
Dante said nothing, simply nodding before turning to leave.
On the way to the airport, his mind raced with thoughts of Rosalie and what he would say to her.
He had never imagined he would become this person–someone willing to cast aside all pride and dignity to chase after a woman who had walked away.
But like an inexperienced boy experiencing first love rather than a hardened businessman, he convinced himself that if he just showed up, if he just explained, if he just apologized sincerely
enough–she would understand.
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Chapter 18
She would forgive him.
They could start over.
After all, she had loved him once.
Surely something of that love remained.
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