Hell

Catherina's POV

I couldn't tell how long I'd been pacing, but all I knew was that I wouldn't be stopping anytime soon.

The heels of my shoe echoed off the cold marble floor, my thoughts running wild. My chest tightened. I hated the way he made me feel like a child. How he made me swallow back my words without even saying a word.

“Who the hell does he think he is?” I said, breathless, my voice sharp.

I clenched my fist, my nails digging into my palms. I felt rage surge through my veins, my brow knitting. Sweat beaded down my temples, my eyes blazing with barely contained fury.

My ears perked, and I heard the study room's door creak open. I froze.

My bare feet moved like they had a mind of their own. I walked out of the room, my gaze falling on his face. His eyes held my gaze for a while. His face was devoid of every warmth. Almost empty.

His lips parted like he wanted to say something. But he didn't. Instead, he bolted down the hallway. He slammed the door behind him.

“What the… hell?” I whispered.

Confusion flickered across my face.

Different thoughts swarmed through my head, leaving me temporarily disoriented. Why the hell was Williams here? What had Dante told him? Why the fuck did he look so scared?

Dante wasn't supposed to know what happened at the hotel. He wasn't supposed to know that Williams had made me watch while he slept with someone else.

I swallowed hard, pushing open the door he just walked through. And there he was. Dante.

He was seated calmly, his legs wide-spread. He looked like he owned the world, and it was sickening. A thick book rested in one hand, his other casually tracing the edge of the page.

His shirt was casually unbuttoned. The candlelight flickered across his bare chest, illuminating the tattoo etched just above his heart.

My breath hitched as I stared at it.

He acted as if he was oblivious to my presence. He just licked his thumb and turned his page.

My eyes traced his muscular arms, slowly running across his pecs and abs. They glistened.

I hated that I was staring, that my fury had vanished in between his pecs and stone-carved abs.

He finally cleared his throat.

“Why are you in my personal room?” His tone was clipped, almost casual.

I blinked.

“I…” I bit my lips, pulling myself together. “I want to know what you told him.”

“Who?”

“Williams. Don't play dumb with me.”

He turned a page slowly.

“Get out, Catherina.”

I blinked again, stunned.

“What?”

“I said get out.”

My brow knitted together. I felt heat flush my cheek, my lips sinking into my teeth. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to shake him until he gave me back control over my life.

“You always do this!” I shouted. “You shut me out! You make decisions for me! What the hell did you tell him?”

He didn't look up, so I did something stupid. I knocked the candlestick off the table. It clattered, crashing into the desk.

His shirt caught the flames, and he stood immediately. I watched the fire devour the shirt in seconds, silence settling in the atmosphere.

My heartbeat was loud, almost deafening.

“I’m…”

Before I could finish, he turned. His eyes weren't cold; they blazed with fury. He took a step towards me, and I stepped back, panic clawing up my neck.

I stumbled against the wall, the coldness biting into my skin. My breath came in short, haggard gasps, and he leaned closer. So close that I could feel the hot air which escaped his nostrils graze my skin. My mind went blank, the scent of lavender clouding my senses.

“Leave!” he ordered.

I nodded immediately, my legs mechanically moving out of the room. The moment I left, I realized that I'd been holding my breath the entire time.

After a while of lingering at the door, I walked into my room and to the shower to cool off. I wanted the day to end as soon as possible. All this drama drove me insane.

I peeled off my clothes like they were too tight on my skin, stepping into the shower with trembling fingers. The water hit me, slowly cascading down my spine, but it did little to wash away the heat that clung on my skin.

His eyes—the way they bored into my skin.

I let my head fall back, slowly shutting my eyes. But even with my eyes tightly shut, all I could see was him.

The tattoos on his broad chest, the way his abs glistened. The way his breath had grazed my skin, forcing goosebumps on it.

My hands gripped the shower knob tightly.

“God, stop it,” I whispered.

But the image burned into my mind, clearer this time.

“Disgusting,” I whispered to myself, shaking my head. “You’re sick, Catherina.”

I shut off the tap, trying to drown the memory under silence instead.

Wrapping a robe, I walked slowly to the bed. I collapsed on the bed, shutting my eyes. After a while, my brain went blank, welcoming sleep.

The next morning, I did my morning chores and dressed up for work, feeling a little bit better. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting the floor with golden streaks.

Deep down, I found myself hoping that Williams would come up with an explanation—any excuse, even a lie.

Being with Williams was better than being with Dante. I could forgive Williams a thousand times, just to kill my growing obsession for my stepfather.

I headed downstairs.

They were seated at the dining table. Dante was at the head, a newspaper in one hand and a black coffee in the other. His sleeves were rolled, his tie loosened.

“Morning,” I mumbled, sliding into my seat.

I was glad no one spoke about what had happened last night. After I was done with breakfast, I walked out of the mansion to work.

I was still sorting the emails when my phone buzzed. I rubbed my temples with my thumb before picking up the phone.

My eyes squinted, getting accustomed to the harsh rays of light that were emitted by the phone as I checked the caller ID.

Williams.

My stomach churned.

I picked up the call, a forced smile tugg

ing by the side of my lips.

“Meet me at the central cafeteria by 9 p.m. Today. Don't be late.”

And the line went dead.