Chapter 5: A Tangled Web

*Layla*

I stared at the bouquet of flowers in Anton's hands. The blooms were beautiful, a mix of deep red roses and delicate white lilies, but the sight of them made my stomach churn.

"These were delivered for you," Anton said, his voice flat. "They're from Dante."

“Oh.” I swallowed hard, fighting the smile that touched my lips despite everything that I was going through. I reached out to take the flowers. "Thank you," I murmured, burying my nose in the soft petals to hide my broadening smile.

As I turned to head back inside, Anton's hand shot out, gripping my arm. "Where were you going?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

I shook his hand off of me, trying to keep my voice light. "Just running some errands. I won't be long."

Anton shook his head, gripping me again. "That can wait. We need to talk about last night."

I sighed, knowing there was no escaping this conversation. I led Anton inside, setting the flowers down on the counter. "What about last night?" I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.

"You disappeared with Dante DeLuca," Anton said, his voice accusatory. "I tried to follow you, to get you away from him, but I lost you in the crowd."

I shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't know it was him. We just started talking, and then..." I trailed off, not wanting to reveal too much. “I didn’t see you when I was ready to leave and he offered me a ride home."

Anton's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with anger, but I thought I caught something more. Concern?

"Do you have any idea how dangerous he is? Dante DeLuca is just as cruel and heartless as Marco, maybe even more so. He's not someone you want to get involved with."

I felt a flicker of defensiveness, but I pushed it down. "I'm not involved with him," I said firmly. "It was just one night and if I had any say in the matter, that is all it would be."

Anton scoffed, shaking his head. "This is a dangerous game, Layla."

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. "I know. But I don't have a choice. Marco has my mother and… Have you seen her? Is she okay?"

“Layla, your mother made her own bed. You should leave her behind and just save yourself.”

“I can’t do that. She is the only family I have,” I retorted. 

“It doesn’t mean that she is worth it.” I met Anton’s gaze. He sighed, knowing that nothing would convince me to leave my mother to rot at Marco’s mercy. "I'll do my best to keep you safe, but you need to be careful. Dante is not a man to play with."

I felt a sudden surge of hope at Anton's words. Maybe he could be an ally in all of this, someone who could help me and my mother escape this nightmare. But just as quickly as the thought came, I pushed it away. Anton had already proven his loyalty to Marco by reporting everything about last night. I couldn't trust him, no matter how much I wanted to.

"There's something else," Anton carried on, interrupting my thoughts. "Marco has assigned me to you full-time. I'm to be your shadow, keeping an eye on your every move."

. The idea of being constantly watched, constantly monitored, made my skin crawl. But I forced myself to nod, knowing there was no point in arguing.

"Before I go, you should read the note that came with the flowers." Anton gestured to the bouquet.

“Why?” I frowned.

“I’ll have to report them to Marco, and he will want to know what it says.”

“Of course.”

With trembling hands, I reached for the small envelope nestled among the blooms. I slid the card out, my heart pounding as I read the words scrawled in elegant script.

"Layla,

Last night was surprising. I can't stop thinking about you. Please join me for dinner tonight at 8 pm. I'll send a car.

Yours,

Dante."

I felt a rush of heat at his words, memories of the previous night flooding back. The way his hands had felt on my skin, the taste of his lips, the sound of my name on his tongue. It had been intoxicating, a glimpse into a world of sensations I'd never known. But now, in the harsh light of day, I knew it had been a mistake.

I looked up at Anton, my eyes filled with tears. "I don't know if I can do this," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I'm not cut out for this kind of deception."

Anton's expression softened, and he reached out to squeeze my shoulder. "You don’t have to do this.” 

Again, I saw the concern in his eyes. But I could not just turn my back on my mother. I shook my head, swallowing back my tears. I thought of the bruises on her face and the fear in her eyes.

"I'll protect you as best I can," Anton promised. “I’ll be outside. When you're ready, I’ll take you on your errands.” With that, he left me alone with my thoughts and the sickly sweet scent of the flowers.

I moved through the rest of the day in a daze, and then found myself going through the motions of getting ready for dinner. Anton waited for me in the living room, taking his job as my monitor seriously. 

I took another long shower, letting the hot water soothe my aching heart and calm my frayed nerves. I spent far too long staring at my closet, trying to choose the perfect dress.

“The black one,” I heard Anton’s voice call from the doorway. 

“What are you doing in my room?” I asked, clutching my towel around my chest. 

He ignored my question and feeble attempt at modesty, strode into the room to pluck the black dress I had considered more than once from the closet, and put it in my hands. 

“You were taking too long. Hurry, you don’t want to be late.”

When he left again, I quickly slipped the dress on and took a look at myself in the mirror. The dress hugged my curves without being too revealing. It seemed subtle but still slightly seductive.

I paired it with a pair of strappy heels and a delicate gold necklace that had belonged to my grandmother. I kept my makeup minimal, just a swipe of mascara and a touch of red lipstick. I wanted to look like myself, not some femme fatale from a spy movie.

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I hardly recognized the woman looking back at me. She looked poised and confident, like someone who knew exactly what she was doing. But inside, I was a mess of fear and doubt, second-guessing every decision I'd made.

A knock at the door startled me out of my thoughts, and I took a deep breath before answering. Anton stood on the other side, his expression unreadable.

"Dante’s car is here," he told me, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. "You look good."

I forced a smile, grabbing my clutch from the table. "Thank you," I murmured, stepping past him and heading out into the hallway.

The ride to the restaurant was silent, as I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past. I tried to calm my racing heart, to focus on the task at hand. But all I could think about was Dante, and the way he made me feel.

When I arrived, a valet opened the door for me, and reached inside to help me out. I thanked him, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the car. 

The restaurant was one of the most exclusive in the city, the kind of place where celebrities and politicians rubbed elbows over $500 bottles of wine. I felt out of place as I walked through the door, like everyone could see right through me.

The hostess greeted me inside and led me to a private room in the back, where Dante was waiting. He stood as I entered, a smile on his face. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his hair slicked back and his dark eyes sparkling in the candlelight.

"Layla," he greeted, his voice warm. "You look stunning."

I felt a blush creep into my cheeks. "Thank you," I said, taking a seat across from him. "This place is beautiful."

Dante nodded, pouring me a glass of wine. "It's one of my favorites. I thought you might enjoy it."

I took a sip of the wine, letting the rich flavor roll over my tongue. It was the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted, and I couldn't help but close my eyes in pleasure.

"I'm glad you accepted my invitation," Dante continued, leaning forward. "I was worried you might not come."

I met his gaze, my heart skipping a beat at the intensity I saw there. "I almost didn't," I admitted, my voice soft. "Last night was...intense."

Dante chuckled, taking a sip of his own wine. "That's one word for it. But I don't regret a single moment."

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "Dante, I..."

He reached across the table, taking my hand in his. His skin was warm and rough, and I felt a shiver run through me at his touch.

"It's okay. Relax. It’s just dinner," he said, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. 

I wanted to pull my hand away and tell him this was a mistake. But I couldn't. As much as I wanted to fight it, I was drawn to him.

"What do you want from me?" I asked in a low voice.

Dante's eyes darkened, and he leaned in closer. "I just want to feed you," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. “Every time I think about the way your stomach growled last night…”

He shrugged as if helpless.

I smiled and chuckled. 

“I’m quite certain you haven’t eaten all day, have you?”

I sighed. “Good guess.”

"I just want to know what happened last night… I didn’t realize you were a virgin.”

Heat flushed my cheeks.

“Had I known…” 

“What?” I pressed.

He shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter. I might have been able to let you go and not think about you again if you had already been taken… But knowing that I am the only one that has had you… Makes me want to make you mine.”

Goose flesh pulled at every inch of skin as his words settled over me. 

“Dante–”

“Please, Layla… Call me Daddy.” 

His voice was strong and steady, giving no hint that the order was a request. My breathing became shallow and my heartrate quickened. A strong and urgent need pulled at my center and wet heat rushed between my thighs. 

Did he know what he was doing to me?