Dante's POV;

“How about…”

The phone call ended and the line went dead. I was enraged and slammed my fist on the desk in my office, narrowly missing my phone and the possibility of me smashing it to smithereens.

My fingers flexed in and out of a fist. I couldn't believe that she was the one talking to me like that.

I bit my lower lip in anger.

The nerve! She should have been mine! She ‘is’ mine! That bastard didn't deserve her!

I slammed my fist again and the wood made a noise. The timber was protesting but I didn't care.

I sat back in my chair and remembered...