Dangerous Melodies - Chapter 23: Chapter 23

MARISOL
I slammed the door open and stormed in, all fire and sarcasm.
"You summoned?"
Dante looked up from his desk, his expression unreadable.
"Come, take a seat."
His tone carried the weight of a decision already made.
"There’s something we need to discuss."
I crossed the room reluctantly, the leather chair creaking beneath me as I dropped into it with a huff.
"What now?"
Arms crossed, posture stiff, I made sure he knew exactly how much I hated being here.
Dante leaned forward, resting his hands on the polished surface of his desk. His gaze locked onto mine, steady.
"You and I are getting married tomorrow afternoon. Afterward, we’ll go on a honeymoon."
What the hell?
My chest clamped tight, breath catching like a steel trap snapping shut.
No. He can’t be serious.
I forced air into my lungs, deep and slow.
"Over my dead body," I snapped, sharp and defiant.
"I’m serious, Marisol."
His voice went cold. Final. His stare dug in deep, prying at every defense I had.
"It’s the only way."
I folded my arms tighter, jaw clenched, eyebrow lifting in practiced mockery.
"How romantic. You forgot the ring and the whole down-on-one-knee thing. But hey, forced marriage? Still charming as hell."
His patience thinned, the air around us cooling like a storm settling in.
"This isn't a fairy tale. And don’t mistake this for romance. I will never kneel for anyone, least of all you."
Something shattered inside me, but I shoved it down where it belonged.
"I've accepted that happily ever after isn't in my cards."
The quiet truth hurt more than I expected.
"You don’t have to remind me."
Regret flickered in his eyes, fleeting and almost missed. I caught it before he could speak. I didn’t want his pity.
"No. There has to be another way."
My voice shook, resistance fraying at the edges.
"Besides, I don’t have any appropriate clothes."
"You’ll have everything you'll need for tomorrow, and then you'll go shopping after the wedding with Maria."
He said it sharper now.
"Security will accompany you. Any other excuses?"
His resolve didn’t budge. Mine was hanging on by a thread. A chill crept up my spine, cold and paralyzing.
"Dante."
My voice cracked.
"I can’t marry you."
"Why not?"
"Because I’m bound to do or say something that’ll piss you off."
The confession slipped out before I could stop it.
"I can be... difficult."
My fingers twisted in my lap.
Dante leaned back, a slow smirk tugging at his mouth.
"Oh, I’m well aware, Marisol."
His voice wrapped around my insecurity, amused and mocking.
A flush burned hot under my skin. I looked away, the words already turning bitter in my mouth. Regret sat heavy in my throat.
"I remember exactly how I got into this situation," he muttered, his jaw ticking beneath the calm.
"So, you see, it’s not ideal to get married," I tried again, clinging to logic like armor. My hands trembled, just enough for him to notice.
Dante exhaled, sharp and controlled.
"Marcos came to see me at the office yesterday."
Fear shot through me like a live wire.
"He saw your viral performance."
The blood drained from my face. Every breath turned to lead.
"Marcos knows I’m here?"
He shook his head.
"No. I told him I don’t know where you are. He thinks I’m helping him find you."
I shot to my feet, but the ground pitched sideways. My knees gave out. Before I hit the floor, Dante’s hands caught me, strong and steady.
"He can’t get to you here."
His voice softened, but it barely grazed the terror clawing through me.
Air scraped down my throat. Too quick. Too shallow. Chest heaving. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes as I grabbed his face, forcing him to look at me.
"Promise me, Dante."
My voice trembled, but I meant every word.
"If he ever catches me, shoot me dead. Don’t hesitate."
My fingers dug in. He needed to feel how serious I was. His expression darkened, understanding flickering behind his eyes. Slowly, he nodded.
"I promise. But it won't come to that," he whispered.
Silence thickened between us, tension stretched taut. I pulled back, searching his face.
"You’re a good shot, right?"
No humor. Just raw fear.
"Maybe you should practice. Just in case."
Dante huffed, the sound dry and humorless.
"Only you would think of that at this moment. Yes, I’m an excellent shot. Trust me."
"I’ll try," I murmured.
I’m trusting him. Lord help me.
Something flickered in his gaze, soft, then gone. A wall slammed down, cold and familiar. Whatever had bloomed between us, he wouldn’t let it grow.
"Dante?"
My voice cut through the stillness.
He turned.
"Yes?"
I swallowed hard.
"If we do this… will it be a real marriage?"
His brow furrowed.
"Yes, it will be legally binding."
"No, what I mean is…"
My throat tightened, skin prickling with heat.
"Would you expect… sex?"
Dante stilled, unreadable emotions passing through him before he shut them down.
"Yes. The marriage needs to be consummated to be legal. Your family could contest it otherwise."
He kept his tone neutral.
"I’m not rushing you, Marisol. We’ll take things at your pace."
Tension crackled beneath his restraint.
"I regret what I said when I first brought you here. I would never force myself on you. Anger isn’t an excuse, and I’m sorry."
"I know."
The words barely left my lips. My cheeks burned. I shifted, suddenly unsteady.
"It’s just… I’ve never…"
Something changed in his expression. Fierce. Protective. He lifted my chin gently, locking eyes with mine.
"I know you haven’t," he said, his voice husky, softer than I expected. "And I promise you’re safe with me. Always."
I’m giving up everything. My freedom. My fight. For safety. For him.
"Alright."
The word scraped against my pride. Maybe I was surrendering. But not to him. To survival. To the only choice I could live with.
"I’ll marry you tomorrow."
At the door, hand on the knob, I hesitated. Vulnerability stripped me bare. I turned.
"I hope you're a good kisser. I'd hate to be stuck with someone terrible at it."
His gaze darkened. Steady. Knowing. He saw right through me.
He stepped closer. The air was charged like a live wire. A slow smile curved his mouth, confident, dark, and dangerous. Heat curled low in my belly.
He stopped a breath away, his body radiating warmth. His hand found my waist, fingers light. I glanced down, unsettled by the tenderness of his touch.
Why does this feel like more?
"My kisses are just the start," he murmured, voice like velvet against my cheek.
"When I’m done, you’ll be craving so much more."
A shiver raced through me. Anticipation buzzed along my spine. My bravado slipped. He gave me time to pull away. I didn’t.
I pressed a hand to his chest, my breath shallow.
"Dante... I... there's something you should know."
Say it. Say it before it’s too late.
"I've never kissed anyone."
He didn’t flinch.
"What about dating? Friends?"
A bitter laugh escaped me.
"I was practically a prisoner."
The words tasted like rust.
"My father kept me locked on the estate. No friends. No visitors. Just shadows and silence.
The only people I talked to were the staff. And Esteban, my guard. But he was married."
Dante’s jaw tightened. His grip shifted, fingers twitching with restrained fury.
"Your father kept you locked away like that?"
His voice went rough.
I nodded, hands fisting his shirt.
"He controlled everything. I had no freedom."
His anger pulsed between us, hot and restrained. But he reeled it in. His hands slid down my arms.
"What about your mom?"
"She was everything."
The memory carved straight through me.
"But she got sick. Lupus. Everything changed. She wasn’t the same. Neither was my father."
Dante studied me, something shifting behind his eyes. Slowly, he touched my cheek. Gentle. Undoing.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, voice gravel-rough.
"For everything you've been through."
He cupped my face, thumb brushing along my skin.
"But I'm glad," he added, voice dropping lower,
"that I get to be your first. Your first kiss. Your first everything."
A sharp inhale caught in my chest. I should stop this. I should run. But I didn’t want to.
I leaned in.
His lips met mine, soft, searching. No demand. No rush. Just a slow, aching pull that unraveled me.
My eyes opened slowly, dazed. I looked at him, and something in my expression must’ve struck him. Awe. Wonder. Whatever it was, it lit a fire in his eyes.
He kissed me again.
Harder this time. More intent. His mouth slanted over mine with purpose, hunger barely restrained.
I flinched at the sudden depth, uncertain. His hand cupped my jaw, steadying me as he caught my bottom lip between his teeth and gave the gentlest nip.
A gasp escaped me.
He took full advantage, slipping his tongue into my mouth, exploring, claiming. I froze for half a breath, unsure, but instinct took over. I mirrored the movement of his tongue, timidly at first, then with growing confidence.
The rhythm, the give and take, the heat of him.
A low groan rumbled from his chest, vibrating against my body. I melted into him, responding before I even knew I’d moved.
Then, as if scorched, he pulled back.
Breath ragged, his forehead pressed against mine. The silence throbbed with everything unspoken.
I saw it in his eyes, the warning. The war.
He stepped back, jaw tight. The space between us stretched like a shield, as if he needed distance. Control.
But the way he kissed me… it said everything he wouldn’t.
Don’t fall. Don’t trust this.
Because when it ended, and it would, I’d be the one devastated.
And I wasn’t sure I’d survive the fall.
DANTE
She was gone.
The door had already closed, but the echo still rang in my ears. Her presence lingered in the room, soft, sharp, and far too dangerous.
Tomorrow, she'd be mine. Bound to me by law, by name, by necessity. Every part of her protected. Whether or not she wanted it.
But that kiss.
She'd told me once, drunk and too honest, that she'd never even been kissed. I'd let it hang there between us, a delicate thread I hadn’t dared to pull.
Now she'd said it again, eyes wide, voice trembling, and it hit me like a fist to the gut. Not because it surprised me. Because it didn’t.
Date, hold hands, kiss, get married … then sex. She believed in that. The old-fashioned order.
It should’ve felt naïve, sweet, soft, and so damn backward in the world we lived in. But if she’d been as sheltered as I suspected … maybe it wasn’t naïve at all.
Maybe it made perfect sense.
And maybe that scared the shit out of me.
Is that why I’m marrying her? Just to have her in my bed? Or is it something worse?
Did I want to give her the world she didn’t believe she could have?
My brows pulled together. Something flickered behind my eyes. Not surprise. Confusion.
I couldn’t tell if this was strategy or something far more dangerous.
The kind of danger that comes with falling. And this time, there’d be no climbing back up.