The Billionaire’s One-Year Bride

chapter 8

The smell of spilled whiskey and gunpowder hung thick in the air, sharp enough to burn the back of Evelyn’s throat.

She stood frozen against the kitchen island, her knuckles white around the heavy ceramic pestle, her chest heaving in rhythm with the fierce, erratic pulse in her ears. Water was blowing in through the shattered balcony frame, soaking the priceless wool rug and turning the broken crystal into glittering shrapnel under the dim emergency lights.

Dante didn’t blink. He closed the distance between them in three long, predatory strides, his boots crunching loudly over the debris. The dark smudge of blood on his torn shoulder contrasted violently against his pale skin, but he ignored the wound entirely.

He stopped right in front of her, so close she could feel the freezing wind off the balcony sweeping against her back.

"Did you not hear me?" Dante’s voice was a low, dangerous hiss, vibrating with a tightly coiled fury that felt far more terrifying than the physical violence that had just occurred. He reached out, his large hand slamming flat against the marble counter right beside her hip, caging her in. "I gave you a direct order. Stay in the suite."

Evelyn’s chin snapped up, pure adrenaline overriding the cold shock creeping into her veins. She refused to cower, even as the shadow of his massive frame completely engulfed her.

"I am not one of your hired thugs, Dante!" she fired back, her voice shaking with an angry tremble as she shoved her chest against his arm to push him away. "I heard glass breaking, I heard someone breaking into my home—yes, your fortress is my cage right now, in case you forgot—and I refused to sit in a corner like a frightened animal waiting to be slaughtered!"

Dante’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently along his jawline. His amber eyes flared, burning down into hers with an intensity that felt less like anger and more like a suffocating, possessive panic.

Before she could draw another breath, Dante moved. His free hand shot out, wrapping firmly around the back of her neck, his fingers tangling into her hair to anchor her in place. He didn't give her a chance to protest before he lowered his head and captured her lips in a hard, punishing kiss.

Evelyn gasped, a soft sound of shock swallowed whole by the sudden, aggressive pressure of his mouth.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was an explosion of raw, untamed frustration, born from the terror of nearly losing her and the burning fury of her defiance. His lips were hot, demanding, and utterly relentless, molding against hers with a desperate hunger that made her head spin.

Her instincts screamed at her to fight him, to bite, to push him away with the ceramic pestle still clutched in her fist. But her body betrayed her. The sheer shock of the contact sent a violent, melting shockwave straight down her spine, stealing the strength right out of her knees.

Her fingers went slack. The ceramic pestle slipped from her grip, clattering loudly against the marble floor as her hands instinctively flew up, gripping the lapels of his torn black shirt to steady herself against the sudden, dizzying drop in her stomach.

A low, guttural groan vibrated deep in Dante’s chest. He pulled her flush against his hard body, erasing the last remaining inch of space between them, deepening the kiss with a fierce, possessive desperation that felt like drowning in open water.

Far down the corridor, the synchronized chime of multiple security elevators echoed through the penthouse, followed by the heavy, boots-on-the-floor rush of Dante’s private security detail flooding the lower level.

“Clear the perimeter! Check the service shaft!” a gruff voice shouted down the hall.

Dante pulled back slowly, his chest heaving as heavily as hers. His amber gaze dropped to her parted, swollen lips before rising back to meet her dazed, furious eyes. His thumb brushed roughly across her lower lip, wiping away the faint smudge of a trace she didn't care about.

"If you ever disobey me again when your life is on the line," Dante murmured, his voice a gravelly, breathless threat that caressed her skin, "I won't lock you in a room, Evelyn. I'll tie you to my side where I can watch you every second of the day."

He didn't wait for her answer. He spun on his heel just as the heavy tactical team rounded the corner into the living room, leaving Evelyn standing alone in the wind and broken glass, her lips burning and her heart hammering a rhythm she no longer knew how to control.