Dante paced his study like a caged lion, his every step echoing against the polished floor.

The dim glow of the single desk lamp cast long shadows on the walls, swelling the suffocating weight in his chest.

His jaw clenched tightly as images of Annabelle replayed in his mind.

Her defiant eyes.

Her trembling hands.

The way she’d stood there, stripped of everything but her muleheaded pride.

He growled low in his throat, running a hand through his dishevelled hair.

She was driving him insane.

No matter how hard he tried to focus on the reports in front of him.

The financials, security updates, and even Angelo’s handwritten notes on...