[Dante]
The bedroom door echoed after I slammed it and I heard the front door shut quietly.
And I stood there—still drowning in the aftershock.
She slapped me.
She slapped me.
Me.
Bianca Campbell.
Bianca. f*****g. Campbell.
The same woman who was crying in my arms in that elevator before the switch happened.
Now she had teeth.
She had the audacity to strike me like I was some misbehaving child who needed correction.
I blinked slowly, jaw twitching. My hands were trembling—not with hurt, but disbelief as they reached for my cheek.
The last person who slapped me was long dead. But why did I find her outburst unimaginably sexy?
That fire. That mouth. Oh, that goddamn slap.
What the hell was she doing to me?
I paced the room like an animal, hands in my hair, tugging at the roo
