His three rules

Chapter 8

I held my breath, watching as Dante's eyes bore into mine, as if his mind was processing my request. The tension was visible. Bracing myself, I waited for his response.

"No," he answered, and my face fell, feeling somewhat ridiculous for even suggesting such a thing. Of course, he didn't care about me. "But, I will stay until you've fallen asleep."

A sense of vulnerability and comfort washed over me as I observed him walking over to the chair in the corner of my room and taking a seat.

"Thank you," I replied gratefully, and he only nodded in acknowledgment. Despite suspecting that his actions might be driven by pity, I didn't care. It was reassuring to know that, despite our differences, he still retained a sliver of humanity when it came down to it.

**Dante's POV**

I watched as she got comfortable in bed, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. Yes, I was cold and heartless, sometimes a bit of a jerk. I wasn't proud of the man I had become, but weakness wasn't an option for me. It wasn't easy knowing so much about a person, understanding their struggles, and yet having to keep them at arm's length. There were times I wished I had been kinder to Sophia, explained the situation better, but I also knew that this distance was for the best.

As she closed her eyes, her chest slowly rising and falling, indicating sleep, she looked so peaceful. Like a child untouched by the wrongs of the world. Despite my icy exterior, I couldn't deny she was beautiful. I loathed treating her the way I did and saying those terrible things, but it was for her own good. Perhaps one day she would forgive me, but for now, I had to do what was best for her, even if it meant making her believe I didn't love her.

Getting up from the chair, I walked over to her side, placing a gentle kiss on her temple. I quickly switched off her bedside lamp before leaving the room and closing the door behind me.

If only she knew what she meant to me.

**Sophia's POV**

I woke up to find Dante no longer in the chair in the corner of my room. For a moment, I wondered if it had all been a dream, if I had imagined a softer side to him. However, the crinkled pillows on the chair reassured me that it wasn't.

Last night felt like a distant memory, and I struggled to make sense of what had happened. Even though I lacked answers for his actions, I was glad he stayed. It brought a semblance of comfort, a fleeting moment of not feeling entirely alone. A part of me felt hopeful that this might be a turning point for Dante and me, but a more significant part warned against getting my hopes up. Childhood lessons had taught me that people disappoint, and having expectations only intensified the pain. Yet, it was challenging not to harbor hope when there seemed to be progress.

Descending the stairs, I grabbed a bowl and poured yogurt, surprised to find Dante still there at the dining table, reading his morning paper. I approached him cautiously.

"Did you sleep alright?" he asked, his eyes briefly meeting mine before returning to the paper.

"Yes, thank you. Did you have to stay long last night?" I inquired, and he replied, "No, not long."

"Well, thank you for staying. It meant a lot to me," I said, watching him fold the paper neatly before getting up.

"Well, I will see you at dinner," he replied briefly, not acknowledging my gratitude as he walked to his office. Once again, I stood there perplexed, watching him leave. While I hadn't conducted a background check on him like he had on me, one thing was certain—Dante was one complicated man.