Twisted Desire

Chapter 12: Twisted Desires

The night was oppressively still, the weight of the humid air settling over the mansion like a heavy blanket. Every corner of the grand estate seemed darker, as if the shadows had deepened with the tension that now coiled within its walls. The atmosphere inside was stifling, and Adira could feel it pressing down on her, tightening around her chest as she stood in front of the tall mirror, trying to steady her breathing. She could hear her own heart pounding in her ears, a steady, frantic rhythm that refused to calm.

She ran her hands over the soft fabric of her dress, her fingers trembling slightly. She had chosen it deliberately—a dress Dante liked, one that clung to her body in all the right ways, accentuating every curve, every part of her that he claimed as his own. Tonight was supposed to be like any other night, a carefully choreographed display of perfection, where she played her part, and Dante played his. But she knew something had changed. The tension between them had shifted, taking on a darker, more dangerous edge.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and frowned. The woman staring back at her looked perfect—her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves, her makeup flawless, her eyes wide and innocent, but that was the lie she had perfected. Beneath the surface, behind the mask she wore so carefully, was a woman on the brink of collapse.

Adira’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft click of the door opening behind her. She didn’t have to turn to know who it was. She could feel Dante’s presence before he even spoke, the air shifting with the weight of his control.

“Adira,” Dante’s voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it tonight, something darker, more possessive than usual. She didn’t dare look at him right away, knowing that the moment their eyes met, he would see too much. He had a way of stripping her bare with just a glance, peeling away the layers of her defenses until there was nothing left but her fear.

She forced herself to turn slowly, her heart racing as she met his gaze. Dante stood in the doorway, his tall frame dominating the room, his eyes fixed on her with that familiar, cold intensity. He looked perfect, as always—his tailored suit immaculate, his dark hair slicked back, his face a mask of calm control. But his eyes betrayed him. They were darker tonight, filled with something that made her stomach twist with dread.

“You look beautiful,” Dante said softly, his eyes trailing over her body in a way that made her skin crawl. “As always.”

Adira forced a smile, her heart pounding in her chest. “Thank you.”

Dante stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers as he moved with the smooth grace of a predator. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine. His touch was soft, but there was a possessiveness to it, a reminder of the power he held over her.

“Do you know why I chose this dress for you tonight?” Dante asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Adira shook her head, swallowing hard. She knew the answer already—he had chosen it because it made her feel vulnerable, exposed. Because he liked to see the way the fabric clung to her skin, to see the way other men’s eyes lingered on her when they attended events, knowing that she belonged to him and no one else.

“It’s because it shows the world what’s mine,” Dante continued, his hand sliding down to her throat, his thumb brushing lightly against her pulse. “It reminds everyone that you’re mine, Adira. Every inch of you.”

Adira’s breath hitched, her body tensing under his touch. She had heard this speech before, had lived through this same scene countless times. But tonight, something was different. The way he looked at her, the way his fingers pressed just a little too hard against her skin—it sent a jolt of fear through her that she couldn’t quite suppress.