Chapter 3
1462 Words
Jennie
Let me just start by saying Dante Evans should come with a damn warning label.
Because even when he’s not doing anything—just standing there with a glass of champagne, his shirt clinging to muscles that definitely weren’t photoshopped—he’s still causing problems.
For my brain. For my ovaries. For society.
And now? Now he’s casually stealing the mic from the DJ like he’s hosting the Oscars.
I mouth, “What the f**k are you doing?” from the other side of the lawn, but Dante? He just gives me a trust me look.
He’s lucky he’s beautiful.
The crowd hushes instantly. My sister, who was two seconds away from roasting me in her wedding speech, looks like she’s been personally offended by the audacity of someone hotter than her speaking first.
“To the happy couple,” Dante says in his charming voice. The entire female population at the wedding swoons, and Dante continues, “I wasn’t planning to be here today. I actually received a last-minute invitation, and let me just tell you that sometimes unexpected things turn out to be the best.”
He looks right at me with his deadly smile and my heart does this weird fluttery thing.
“She’s changed my entire day,” his smile grows. “Made me laugh. Challenged me. Reminded me that sometimes, a little chaos is exactly what you need.”
Chaos?
Okay, rude. Accurate. But rude.
“To surprises,” he finishes, raising his glass. “And to the people who walk into your life when you’re least prepared… but exactly when you need them.”
Everyone claps. I do it too, but with wide eyes while wondering what the heck that was.
Nothing he said sounded fake. What Dante said sounded like something you say when you mean it.
Dante walks back to his seat and sits by my side like he didn’t just casually deliver a swoon-worthy monologue that could end global conflict.
I lean in. “What the hell was that?”
He gets comfortable on his chair. “A toast.”
“Fake boyfriend toast or…?”
He doesn’t answer. Just tips his glass toward mine and clinks them together. Then he smiles, and I swear I feel it between my legs.
The attraction.
So I do the only rational thing.
I flee.
Not in an obvious way. I just… get up and walk away. Toward the back of the venue.
But Dante doesn’t understand that it is him I’m running from. He follows and actually looks back as if he thinks we’re escaping from someone else.
What an i***t.
I stop walking and we end up behind the reception tent. There are tall hedges here and romantic fairy lights that sets a mood that makes me blush.
“You okay?” Dante asks, stepping into my personal bubble without a care in the world
“I’m…no. I’m not okay,” I whisper-shout. “That speech was not fake-boyfriend level appropriate!”
He c***s his head to the side. “I was improvising.”
“Improvising? Dante, you just made it sound like we’re soulmates.”
He gives me this really cute look. “Aren’t we?”
OH MY GOD.
I groan and pace a little.
“This was supposed to be harmless. You were supposed to flirt with me just enough to make my sister jealous and then disappear back into your movie-star cave.”
“You wanted safe?” his voice is low. “Then you shouldn’t have hired me.”
I turn on him. “You volunteered!”
“Because you begged!”
“I was drunk!”
“You still picked me.”
My heart squeezes. He looks so…hopeful. Cute. Mischievous. Sexier than any man has the right to be. And he is giving me all of his attention for only God knows why.
He takes one step forward. Then another. Until he’s right in front of me and I have to crane my neck to simply meet his eyes. He smiles as if entertained by how short I am and I avert my eyes out of humiliation.
Dante picks up on that. “Feeling shy?”
“W-what?” I stammer. “No...I mean...Yes? Maybe?”
“Because I’m an actor?”
“No...it isn’t that.”
“Then what is it?”
“It is more about how you’re looking at me. You’re doing something you shouldn’t do...”
“And what is that?” he asks, sounding playful.
“Looking at me like you’re going to kiss me.”
He chuckles. “Maybe I am.”
My face heats up. “Well… don’t.”
Another chuckle. “You always this bossy?”
“Only when I’m seconds away from doing something really dumb, like kissing a celebrity…” I mutter.
“I make you feel dumb?”
I swallow. “You make me feel something.”
He goes silent so I look up. He appears...shocked.
But then he smiles. “You make me feel something too.”
I snort. “You don’t have to make me feel better by lying.”
He shrugs. “It’s the truth. You’re not exactly easy to ignore, Jennie.”
“Even in this dress?” I glance down at the pale pink disaster I borrowed from my cousin.
He steps even closer. “Especially in that dress. You look like trouble in frosting.”
“You’re just saying that because I promised cake.”
His voice drops. “I don’t even like cake.”
My heart hiccups. “So when you said you only came here for the cake...?”
“I came here for your sake, Jennie. Because you were a pretty cute drunk yesterday.”
“Wh-what? You can’t be serious. I’m not cute at all!”
“You are!” He looks down at me, all dopey and goofy. “You’re really cute, but shit...how short are you? I’m going to break my back if I want to kiss you.”
He wants to...kiss me?
I open my mouth like a baby bird asking for food, but I never get to say anything because Mr. Tall bends down. One large hand finds my waist. The other gently cups my jaw.
And then his mouth is on mine.
Soft.
Then deeper.
And holy freaking hell.
This kiss is not fake.
He kisses me like he’s been waiting for me to step into his life since the beginning of time. Like he wants to ruin every memory of every other man I’ve ever kissed.
After this kiss, maybe I want to because Dante is talented. His mouth is hot and coaxing. His tongue sweeps mine, and I’m a goner. So not in control. Dante is. And I’m...melting since I’ve never been kissed like this.
Is this how kissing someone is supposed to feel like?
My fingers are in his dark hair. His hand pulls me closer, pressing every line of our bodies together until I forget why this was pretend.
When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against mine while breathing like a man haunted.
His eyes are wide, and he looks… stunned.
Like the kiss broke something open inside him too.
We stare at each other and then—click.
A camera.
And a voice, way too excited:
“I KNEW IT! Holy s**t, it is you!”
We both spin.
A woman stands there, all heels and gossip-fueled adrenaline, her phone held up like she’s ready to sell our souls to the tabloids.
“I’ve been trailing you all day,” she gushes. “I knew that wasn’t just a rumor! Wait until TMZ sees this! Dante Evans makes surprise appearance at wedding with mystery girlfriend. God, you’re gorgeous, by the way.”
Dante steps in front of me like he’s shielding me from a bomb.
“Delete it.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Now.”
His voice is cold. Lethal. And it’s not acting.
The woman stammers and fumbles with her screen. “I—I mean, people are already tweeting—”
“I said delete it.”
He’s not smiling. He’s not charming. He’s dangerous.
And she knows it.
She walks away quickly, mumbling apologies.
Dante doesn’t move for a few seconds. Neither do I.
When he finally turns around, his mask is back in place. Blank.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine.”
He’s not.
Something happened when we kissed, and he’s pretending it didn’t.
“We should go back,” he says, already walking.
No arm around me. No lingering look.
Just distance.
And I’m left standing there wondering...
What the hell just happened?
And what the hell am I supposed to do with it?
- Writer
