Annabelle ended the call with trembling hands and the phone slipping slightly as her grip faltered.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

The rhythmic pounding of her heart was almost deafening in the quiet room.

A chill ran down her spine, and for a fleeting moment, she could almost see Dante’s face.

His jaw clenched.

His dark eyes blazing.

And his imposing frame coiled with fury.

She swallowed hard as she brushed her damp palms against the worn fabric of her jeans.

“What have I just done?” she thought with a tremulous breath.

She couldn’t remember ever being that brazen in her life.

She had spoken of herself as if...