Twisted Loyalty

Chapter 15: A Different Kind of Shopping

Sienna

The bustling energy of downtown Chicago surrounds us as Dante expertly maneuvers the car through the busy streets. The familiar sights of the city pass by—luxury shops, towering skyscrapers, and the constant hum of life that defines this place. I've been here countless times, but today feels different. Dante's presence beside me is a constant reminder that my life has changed in ways I hadn't fully accepted yet.

When we pull up to one of my favorite boutiques, Dante parks smoothly and is out of the car before I can even unbuckle my seatbelt. He walks around, opening my door for me like it's second nature. I step out, giving him a small smile of thanks. It's not that I'm unused to this treatment—it's that coming from him, it feels different. More deliberate. More... intimate.

"Thanks," I say softly.

He nods, his expression unreadable but his eyes tracking me as I move toward the store. "Let's start here," he says, his voice low and calm.

We walk into the boutique, the familiar scent of expensive fabrics and polished wood filling the air. The store is spacious, with soft lighting and elegantly arranged racks of clothing. I've been here before—many times, actually—but this visit feels more loaded with meaning. Dante stays a few paces behind me as I start browsing, giving me space, but I can feel the weight of his gaze on me. It's hard to ignore.

I move through the shop, running my fingers over the silk dresses and soft fabrics that line the racks, trying to focus on the task at hand. But there's an odd tension between us, something simmering just below the surface that I can't quite pin down.

After a few minutes of browsing, I pick up a dress that catches my eye—a deep emerald green that I know will fit my figure well. I hold it up and turn to Dante, curiosity pushing me to ask for his opinion.

"What do you think?" I ask, holding the dress up against myself, the fabric draping over me.

Dante's eyes flick over the dress, then meet mine. There's a pause, like he's weighing his response, and for a moment, I see something flicker in his gaze—something heated. But it's gone almost as soon as it appears.

"Try it on," he says simply, his voice deeper than before.

I shrug casually, hiding the sudden flutter of nerves his gaze stirs in me. "Okay."

Grabbing a few more pieces of clothing, I head toward the dressing room. As I close the door behind me, I can still feel the lingering weight of his eyes on me, and I can't help but wonder what he's thinking. I've had men look at me before, but with Dante... it feels different. It feels like more.

I slip into the emerald dress, the soft fabric gliding over my skin as it hugs my curves in all the right places. It's a simple dress, nothing too extravagant—something I could wear out without drawing too much attention. But as I look at myself in the mirror, I feel the pulse of anticipation in my veins. It's not the dress that's making my heart race—it's the fact that I'm about to walk out in front of Dante.

Taking a steadying breath, I open the door to the boutique's dressing room and step out into the open space. The room is quiet, save for the faint hum of music playing overhead, but it's Dante who draws my attention immediately. He's standing by the front, his arms crossed, his posture as composed as ever. His eyes sweep over me the moment I step into view.

He doesn't say a word at first. His eyes darken as they trace the lines of the dress, lingering on every inch of exposed skin, and for a second, it's like the whole room fades away. His gaze is heavy, burning, and I can feel the tension radiating from him even though he's doing everything in his power to stay calm, to maintain control. But I can see through it—the way his jaw tightens, the flicker of something dangerous just beneath the surface.