The call that haunted me

Catherina’s POV

The buzzing of my phone had left an empty hole in my chest all day. I couldn't tell why he was calling me. Was he finally in his senses? Maybe he’d realized the mistake he’d made. Maybe he’d call to apologize… to beg.

I rolled my eyes, scolding myself silently. Don’t be stupid, Caterina. Don’t fall for it. Act difficult. Make him grovel if he dares.

And yet… a small, uninvited part of me wanted to forgive him. Anything to close the growing obsession over Dante, to quiet the thoughts of him that I could never fully control.

I shook my head and tried to concentrate, fingers flying across the keyboard as I buried myself in work. Emails, documents, meetings—it was all a blur. But the buzzing in my mind never ceased, a constant reminder that tonight, I might have to face him again.

Finally, mercifully, the day dragged to an end. I let out a long sigh as I shut down my laptop, stretching my stiff muscles. Exhaustion weighed heavily on my shoulders, but I let my mind drift for a moment, letting the streetlights kiss the floor in streaks of gold and amber through the office window. For a second, I let myself pretend the world outside was calm.

By the time I pulled up at home, my body ached, my heels scrapping the floor. I dragged myself into the sitting room and found my mother at the dining table, flipping through a magazine.

“Hi, Mum,” I mumbled, forcing a smile as I flopped into a chair briefly before dragging myself up the stairs.

The moment I reached my room, I slammed the door shut, letting a long sigh escape me. My mind immediately returned to that call. Why now? I bit my lip. Maybe… maybe he’s going to apologize. Act difficult, Caterina. Don’t let him see you soft. But… you’ll forgive him eventually. Won’t you?

I shook my head, trying to drown the thought in more practical concerns. A bath, maybe. Something warm to relax my aching body. The water rushed over me in soothing cascades, washing away the tension while leaving my thoughts swirling like a storm.

Afterward, I dressed in black. A fitted outfit that hugged my curves, accentuating every subtle contour of my body. I brushed my hair, letting it fall in glossy waves over my shoulders, teasing a subtle elegance I knew would draw attention if anyone saw me. I allowed myself a small smirk in the mirror, feeling… gorgeous.

I was dressed to slay.

Then, of course, reality intervened. The zipper. Out of reach. My shoulders stiffened as I tugged futilely, cursing softly.

I walked outside, tracing my steps to get some assist.

“Hello?” I called from the mezzanine. “Mum?” No response.

I sighed, dragging my body downstairs. And there he was—Dante. Sitting like he owned the room…well,he did. his eyes catching mine as if he had been waiting. My stomach froze. My mind went blank for a few minutes.

“Where’s Mum?” I asked, my voice just above a whisper.

He didn’t look up immediately, but his voice was calm, precise, cutting through the air.

“She went out. School reunion with an old friend.”

I nodded, my hands curling nervously at my sides. I opened my mouth to ask him for help with the zipper, but the words died on my lips. I just stared at him, every nerve in my body alert, every thought tangled in the impossible magnetism he radiated.

Finally, without looking up, he said, “Come down. I’ll help.”

I froze again. Was he… telepathic? My breath hitched, warmth rushing to places that should have stayed calm.

I descended the stairs, my heart hammering against my ribs like a drum.

I took a deep breath, bidding myself to act normal as I maintained a stoic expression. I walked closer to him, and turned around. The moment his cold fingers touched the zipper, my heart drummed violently.

A shiver ran down my spine, goosebumps rising under my skin as the air between us became impossibly charged.

The warm air from his nostrils fanned the nape of my neck, and for a while, I'd thought that If I stayed there longer my body would eventually betray me.

“Done,” he said simply, stepping back. His gaze lingered for just a moment before he turned and walked away, leaving a trail of heat in his wake and my pulse racing uncontrollably.

I exhaled shakily, gripping the edges of the railing. My mind was a mess of confusion, desire, and guilt. One thing was clear—I could not stop thinking about him. And that thought alone scared me more than anything else in the world.

lThe moment lived rent-free in my head as I walked out of my room, the memory of Dante’s hands brushing the zipper still sending shivers down my spine. I hailed an Uber, fingers tapping nervously against my bag. I tried to shove the thoughts aside, told myself it was absurd, but no matter how much I willed it, they lingered.

“You don't feel anything for him, Catherina. He's your step father,” I lied to myself.

By the time I arrived at the Central Cafeteria, my stomach was a mix of nerves and anticipation. The place was bright, bustling with life. Polished wooden floors reflected the soft glow of overhead lights, and the air carried a subtle scent of coffee and baked pastries. Round tables filled with chatter surrounded me, the murmur of conversations acting like a soundtrack to my restless thoughts.

As I walked in, eyes turned toward me. Not overtly, not glaringly, but enough to remind me I wasn’t invisible and I was charming.

I literally stole the air out of the lungs of the male folks in the cafeteria. The female? All I saw was jealousy. Typical.

The subtle warmth of recognition—or maybe curiosity—seemed to follow me to my seat. I forced a small smile, sliding into the chair, letting my fingers brush across the smooth surface of the table.

And then he walked in.

Williams.

He looked rough—disheveled almost, like he hadn’t planned to meet me today at all. His hair was slightly tousled, sleeves rolled, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. There was a hardness in his gaze that made my chest constrict. But I didn’t dwell on it. I had to focus. I had to act like this was just a conversation, nothing more.

He slid into the seat across from me, eyes fixed on me like he’d memorized every inch of my expression. I cleared my throat, forcing a polite smile.

“You… came for an apology?” I asked softly, trying to keep my voice steady, letting a hint of cool indifference lace the question.

He scoffed, and the sound made a knot tighten in my chest. He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair before letting out a slow breath.

“I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly, almost painfully. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have hurt you.”

My brow furrowed. The words were simple, but the weight behind them was confusing.

“I… I don’t understand,” I whispered, tilting my head slightly. “What are you saying?”

He hesitated, biting his lip before continuing. “I was… threatened. To act like I had emotions I didn’t feel. To… bring out a reaction. I didn’t… I didn’t want this, Catherina. I did it… because of money.”

My eyes narrowed. By who? I wanted to ask, but the words caught in my throat. I tried to read his expression, to find the truth hiding beneath his excuses. But all I saw was a face filled with regret.

“Money?” I asked finally, my voice small but sharp, trying to piece together the fragments of his confession. “What are you saying? Who—”

He raised a hand slightly, stopping me before I could finish. “I’m… sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t have the right to ask for forgiveness. I… I only wanted you to know.”

Then, as if on instinct, his hand moved toward the table, sliding a single paper toward me. My eyes widened slightly when I recognized it: the divorce papers. He had signed them.

“I… I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible. Then he stood, straightening his posture, giving me a last look that lingered longer than it should have. Without another word, he walked out, leaving me alone wit

h the paper in front of me.

The moment he walked out of that door, it came rushing down my chin.