Dangerous Melodies - Chapter 31: Chapter 31

MARISOL
My heart skipped. The words weren’t overtly suggestive, but the implication... the night takes us further.
My pulse quickened as I took in the table, the candlelight, the open bottle of champagne.
Everything looked so perfect.
So intimate.
Too intimate.
A fluttering tension curled low in my stomach.
I managed a shaky smile, but my voice wavered.
"I... I don’t think I can eat a full meal."
My throat felt tight, dry.
"Maybe just something light?"
Dante nodded without hesitation.
His smile stayed steady.
"Of course. We’ll snack on some fruit and champagne while we talk."
We settled at the table.
The first few sips of champagne helped.
The bubbles tickled my tongue, the cold sweetness washing away some of the tightness in my chest.
Still, nerves hummed just beneath my skin, louder each time our eyes met, until I couldn’t hold his gaze anymore.
I looked down.
Away.
Safe.
His fingers brushed mine, a soft stroke that sent a flicker of heat up my arm.
Then his voice followed, quiet and close enough to warm the air between us.
"Marisol, why do you avoid eye contact?"
His thumb traced a slow arc over my knuckles.
"It bothered me when we first met, and I’ve thought about it since then."
A breath caught in my throat.
I hadn’t expected the question, not now, not with my pulse already racing.
But his hand grounded me, cooled the panic that had started to rise.
"I’ve always tried to keep a low profile," I said quietly.
"When I make eye contact, people... they get caught up in my eye color."
My mouth tugged into a wry smile.
"It’s not great when you’re trying to stay invisible."
I hesitated, fingers tightening around his.
"And... I look away when I’m nervous. Right now, I’m anxious about what’s going to happen between us."
My voice dropped on the last part.
Saying it too loud might make it real.
Dante’s grip didn’t tighten, but the weight of it deepened.
"You don’t have to hide from me, Marisol. You don’t need to protect yourself. I want to see you. All of you. We’ll go as slow as you need."
His sincerity hit hard.
My eyes stung.
I blinked fast and looked up.
Really looked.
His face was open, patient, steady.
He means it.
My chest clenched, but the panic had softened.
I lifted my chin a little.
"I’ll try," I whispered.
Dante leaned in, his forehead resting gently against mine.
"One step at a time," he murmured.
"But right now, I need you to look at me and see how much I want you."
My breath caught.
Not from fear, but from something deeper.
A current pulling from the inside.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze.
Met his.
And this time, I didn’t look away.
The room faded.
Candlelight danced in the space between us.
His nearness wrapped around me like the tide, warm and steady.
For a second, I just stood there.
Every breath I took seemed to echo louder in the silence, each heartbeat a drumbeat in my ears.
I’d never been seen like this before, never allowed anyone to see past the version of me I curated for the world.
There had always been layers.
Distance.
Safety in detachment.
But Dante’s gaze asked for none of that.
He didn’t demand.
He didn’t rush.
He just waited, steady as a mountain, as if he knew the ground under me was shifting and he was prepared to catch me if I stumbled.
And God, I wanted to stumble.
Fall into whatever this was, this fragile space between fear and desire, caution and curiosity.
Then his fingers threaded through mine, and he stood, guiding me toward the bedroom.
His touch stayed gentle, but intent simmered beneath it.
Desire moved in quiet waves, a delicate shiver trailing down my spine.
"Maybe you could change into something more... appropriate for the evening."
Heat surged to my cheeks.
"Change?" I echoed, breath catching.
The image came fast.
The white chemise I’d bought with Maria.
Lace-trimmed, sheer, light as air.
I could still feel the fabric between my fingers in the boutique.
It had felt daring then.
Now it felt terrifying.
But I wanted to wear it.
For him.
I swallowed and nodded once.
My voice came out soft.
"Okay."
Dante smiled and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
His lips lingered, and something inside me gave, soft and unsteady.
"Take your time," he said quietly.
MARISOL
In the bathroom’s privacy, I slipped into the sheer chemise and thong, my breath catching as my reflection brought me to a halt.
"Damn it, Maria," I muttered, eying the near-transparent fabric with a mixture of disbelief and dread.
Why even bother with clothes at all?
This might as well be a whisper of nothing.
My throat tightened, the edge of panic rising under my skin.
The delicate material clung to every curve, soft and almost sinfully beautiful.
I ran my fingers through my hair, but the motion didn’t soothe anything.
What if he sees everything and turns away?
The thought scraped against old wounds, tender and too familiar.
Not because I’d been touched.
But because I’d seen what it looked like when it was done without care.
Without consent.
My father and his men had never hidden their appetites.
I’d watched women try to pull away only to be yanked closer, their protests swallowed by laughter and liquor.
I’d seen hands grip too tight, bruises blooming like secrets across skin.
One night, when I was too young to understand but too old to forget, a man pressed a lit cigar to a woman’s breast while the others watched.
She screamed.
No one stopped him.
No one even flinched.
In the morning, she was gone.
Those were the images that lived in my memory.
Not kisses.
Not caresses.
But violence.
Power used like a weapon.
I’d told myself that if I ever gave my body, it would be different.
Safe.
Mine.
But wanting safety didn’t erase the fear.
Wanting Dante didn’t silence the memories.
Will Dante be gentle?
Will he take his time, or will he just... take me?
I didn’t know what to expect, and that scared me more than I wanted to admit.
I shook my head.
No.
I’d faced worse than this.
Whatever happened tonight, I wouldn’t hide.
I adjusted the short robe, the transparent fabric gliding against my skin.
It felt flimsy, like it might fall apart if I breathed too hard.
I drew a breath, trying to make it look steadier than it felt, and met my own gaze in the mirror.
Tense.
Determined.
The past still clung to me, but I was here.
I was doing this.
My lips pressed together, not in a smile, but in something close to resolve.
I tied the sash, fingers trembling, and stepped into the bedroom.
Whatever waited beyond that door, it was mine to face.
A new chapter, and I had no idea how it would end, but I wasn’t turning back.