Claimed by my uncles best friend

Pride

Carmen’s POV

“Kitty cat.”

The word hit me before I even understood it. Soft, low, intimate... it was nothing like the sharp commands or clipped sarcasm he’d been throwing at me since the accident. My heart stuttered, tripping over itself as my eyes flew to his face.

For a second, he looked just as shocked as I felt.

“What did you call me?” I asked, my voice coming out steadier than I felt.

It's been years since he called me 'kitty cat'.

He straightened so fast it was like I’d caught him doing something illegal. His shoulders squared, his jaw tightened, and that unreadable wall snapped back into place. “Nothing.”

Yh, right.

I narrowed my eyes at him, searching his face for something—anything—but he was already pulling away, retreat written into every rigid line of his body. I didn’t believe him. Not for a second. And judging by the way his eyes refused to meet mine, neither did he.

The air felt… strange. Heavy. Charged. Like something invisible had snapped tight between us and neither of us knew what to do with it.

Then he muttered something under his breath—something that sounded suspiciously like a curse—and turned on his heel.

“I can’t do this,” he said abruptly, not looking back. And then he was gone.

The door closed behind him with a soft but final click.

I stood there frozen, my pulse roaring in my ears.

What just happened?

Embarrassment crept up my spine, hot and unwelcome. I looked down at myself, suddenly hyperaware of my bare skin, my bandaged leg, the vulnerability of standing there alone. Did I disgust him? Was that it? Did he really find me that uncomfortable?

I hugged my arms around myself and exhaled shakily. Great job, Carmen. Really nailed that one.

I reached for my clothes with more force than necessary, dressing quickly, clumsily, like the fabric could somehow shield me from the confusion twisting in my chest. I told myself I didn’t care. I told myself he was just being dramatic. Overprotective. Weird.

Still… the way he’d said it. Kitty cat.

It echoed in my head no matter how hard I tried to shake it.

A gentle knock sounded, and before I could answer, two maids stepped in. They moved with quiet efficiency, helping me finish dressing, adjusting my clothes, fixing my hair. Neither of them commented on my expression, but I felt seen anyway.

When they were done, another guard appeared at the door, already moving toward me. “Allow me, ma’am,” he said, bending slightly, arms ready to lift me.

“No,” I snapped.

He paused, startled. “Ma’am?”

“Where is Dante?” I asked.

I didn’t know why the question came out so sharp. Or why my chest felt tight as I waited for the answer. I just knew I was angry. Irrationally, fiercely angry.

The guard hesitated. “Sir… left the fortress a few minutes ago.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

“He… left?” I whispered.

Left.

As in drove away... Did I make him that uncomfortable?

My throat tightened, and I hated that too.

Did I make him that uncomfortable?

I straightened my shoulders, burying the embarrassment under pride like I always did. Fine. Whatever. That’s what he gets for refusing to say no to my uncle in the first place. Nobody asked him to play hero. Nobody asked him to get involved in my life.

Especially not like this.

The guard stepped forward again. “Please, ma’am, let me carry you—”

“No,” I said firmly. “Just help me up. I’ll walk.”

“Ma’am, your leg—”

“I will limp,” I cut in. “And I’ll survive.”

He looked conflicted. “But sir said—”

“Sir isn’t here,” I said coolly. “And I am.”

That shut him up.

With their help, I pushed myself up, pain flaring hot and sharp through my injured leg. I sucked in a breath but didn’t make a sound. I refused to give them—or myself—the satisfaction of seeing me wince.

I took a step.

Then another.

It hurt. A lot. But it was my choice.

Besides, I’d have to start walking sooner or later.

As they guided me down the hallway, my thoughts betrayed me, drifting back to the bathroom. To the way his voice had changed when he said that word. To the way his eyes had darkened for just a second too long.

Kitty cat.

It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t casual.

It felt… personal.

And that scared me more than the accident, more than the pain, more than being stuck in a fortress that looked like it belonged in a fantasy movie.

I didn’t understand Dante. His moods. His rules. His sudden distance.

But one thing was clear.

Whatever passed between us in that roo

m wasn’t nothing.

And the fact that he ran from it?

That told me it mattered.

Whether he liked it or not.