Dangerous Melodies - Chapter 44: Chapter 44

MARISOL
My heart pounded, fury surging at the thinly veiled reminder of my arranged marriage to Marcos. I stepped forward, my voice sharp, unyielding.
"Plans that included selling me off to a monster," I snapped. "You’re not my father, Roberto. Why would my husband owe you anything, let alone an alliance?"
The words struck hard. For the first time, his mask slipped. His eyes flashed, anger slicing through his polished facade. He moved closer, his expression twisting with rage.
"Careful, girl," he hissed, stepping into my space, his presence thick with menace. "You forget your place."
Something flickered across his face. Not just anger. A warning. A silent threat that he still believed he held sway over my life.
I didn’t flinch. I leaned in instead, letting him see the fire in my eyes.
"Aww, how pathetic. A tantrum from a man who’s finally powerless?"
Before Dante could move, Roberto’s hand came up fast, aimed for my face. But I was faster. My hand shot out on instinct, catching his wrist in mid-air. I twisted, the motion fluid, practiced. Pain lit up his face as the shock of it hit. He gasped, eyes wide, stunned. Then I shoved him. Hard. He stumbled backward, landing in a heap at my feet.
His eyes burned with humiliation. The arrogance he always wore like armor cracked, crumbling under the weight of my resolve.
"This is the last time you ever try to hurt me," I said, my voice low but certain. The words settled between us like a final stone laid. "You’ve lost your power over me."
Cold filled the space where fear used to live.
Roberto’s eyes still burned, rage swirling as he pushed himself upright. I stared down at him, the man who once loomed over my childhood now nothing more than a fallen relic of control.
Dante stepped in beside me, his hand steadying me with a quiet presence.
"This is not the way we treat such important guests," he said, his voice calm but pointed.
His eyes met mine, cool and unreadable. I hesitated, the heat in my chest still burning, but I stepped back, pulse hammering.
A flush crept up my neck. He was scolding me. In front of Roberto. The betrayal sliced deep and sudden, like a blade I hadn’t seen coming. My stomach twisted, but I held my ground, refusing to look away.
Dante turned to Roberto, his tone lighter now as he offered a hand.
"Forgive my wife," he said, helping him to his feet. "She’s quite fierce. Something I thoroughly enjoy."
Roberto’s smirk returned, pleased by the apology and the insult wrapped in flattery. He couldn’t see the undercurrent pulsing beneath Dante’s words. But I could. I felt it.
I watched them, my senses on high alert. Dante hadn’t said a single threatening word, but there was a quiet dominance to him, every movement intentional, every glance calculated. He was enjoying this. Every second of it.
Roberto straightened, brushing off his jacket with jerky movements. His jaw was tight with lingering anger, but the glint in his eyes was smug. He leaned toward Dante, speaking low, though not low enough to slip past me.
"You’ve done well with her. She’ll learn her place."
My breath caught. Fury surged so fast it rattled my ribs. I stepped forward, ready to stop him. To say something. Anything.
But Dante turned before I could speak, that same serene mask still in place.
"It’s a long journey to get here. You must be tired," he said. "We have a comfortable guest house where you can rest."
I blinked. A sharp twist yanked through my gut. Betrayal? Confusion? I couldn’t tell.
What is he doing?
My mind scrambled for answers. Then it clicked into place, like puzzle pieces sliding together.
He’s not siding with Roberto. He’s playing him.
Dante called for Felix, his voice still smooth.
"Please escort Mr. Franco to the guest house and help him with any luggage he may have."
Felix appeared like clockwork. His posture was all formal restraint, but I caught the stiffness in his shoulders. The way his eyes narrowed just slightly on Roberto. He didn’t trust him either.
"I’ll send something to eat as you get comfortable," Dante said, pleasant as ever. "Then you can join us for dinner this evening."
Roberto nodded, smug again. He actually thought he’d won something. His gaze slid to me, that same patronizing smirk on his face as Felix led him away.
I didn’t look away. I let him see me, unflinching.
Once they were gone, Dante turned to me. His expression shifted, softening, but the tension held fast in my shoulders, in the line of my jaw, refusing to let go. I held his gaze, heart pounding, unsure whether to fight or fall. Then he stepped forward, closing the space between us, and wrapped his arms around me.
I didn’t hesitate. I folded into him, into the quiet strength he always carried, the one no one else ever seemed to see. His touch didn’t erase the burn of what just happened, but it calmed the shaking underneath it.
He had come here on his own, thinking we were fractured. That I was broken. That Dante stood with him.
He didn’t know he’d walked straight into our hands. We hadn’t planned the trap this way. But he’d made it easy.
The plan was in motion.
MARISOL
When the door clicked shut behind Roberto, locking him in what might as well have been a gilded cage, Dante stepped closer.
"I’ve got this under control," he murmured, voice low and steady. "Roberto’s unexpected visit plays very well into our plan."
I let out a long breath, the tension unraveling from my shoulders. I leaned into him, the burn of anger cooling into something sharper: determination. But beneath it all, something else flickered. The memory came uninvited, my small hand in Roberto’s, him guiding me across a busy street, gentle and sure. A man I’d once trusted without question.
How can he be the same person now bent on control and betrayal?
I wrung my hands and shoved the image away.
"I know," I said, my voice steady. "Let’s bring him down."
A faint smile tugged at Dante’s mouth, but his eyes softened as they met mine.
"You okay with this?" he asked, that note of concern threading through his tone. "It’s not easy."
He didn’t wait for my answer. He walked to the sitting area and eased into the armchair, patting his lap.
"If it’s too much, we don’t have to watch," he said, calm but satisfied. "But if you’re ready…"
I crossed the room and lowered myself onto his lap, his arms wrapping around my waist like a quiet anchor. But as I settled, a knot twisted in my gut.
He hurt me. Lied to me. Used me. And still … he raised me.
Dante picked up the remote, his fingers brushing the buttons before glancing up.
"Ready?"
I nodded.
He brought the phone to his ear.
"Cut the mobile signal and Wi-Fi at the guest house. Make sure he can’t contact anyone."
"Consider it done. He’s cut off."
Dante ended the call and turned back to me, remote still in hand.
"Now, if you’re sure…"
I took the remote and turned on the monitors.
The screens flickered, then settled on a live feed from the guest house. Roberto stood in the center of the room, oblivious, turning in place as if inspecting the expensive furnishings with the smug entitlement of a man used to getting his way. He didn’t see it yet: the subtle markers of his captivity. The absence of exits. The reinforced glass. The cameras.
His face shifted, just a little, when he noticed the window. He stepped closer, examined it. Then he moved to the door, tried the handle. Nothing. Locked tight.
Unease crept into his expression as the truth dawned.
Dante’s hand rested on my thigh, warm and firm. Steadying.
I should feel triumphant. I wanted this. But inside, something felt hollow. He’d been cruel. But once, he’d been my entire world. How did it come to this?
I leaned back against Dante’s chest.
"He looks so lost," I murmured.
Dante’s arms tightened around me, his breath warm at my ear.
"It’s just the beginning," he said. "We’ll give him time to let it sink in."
We sat in silence, watching as Roberto paced, his arrogance unraveling, replaced by a flickering uncertainty. Dante’s thumb brushed slow circles against my leg. The smallest gesture, but grounding, somehow.
As the tension inside the guest house mounted, I turned to meet his gaze.
"We’ve got him right where we want him," I said, quiet but certain.
Still, everything inside me roiled: anger, grief, the sting of betrayal. The man I trusted never really existed. And the man he truly was would never change.
Dante nodded, eyes on the screen.
"Yes. And we’ll make sure he knows he’s not in control anymore."
I sank deeper into his embrace, willing the guilt to stay buried.
This was justice. This was redemption.
We kept watching, the victory between us silent but palpable. This was only the beginning, taking back power, tearing down what Roberto had built, brick by brick.