The Heiress' Revenge

Chapter 164: I’m Nobody To You?

Ariana’s POV

He closed the door behind him.

The click of the lock was loud in the quiet office.

He looked at me with dark and unreadable eyes, his jaw tight. His hands were gripping the arms of his chair. He looked angry and hurt. He looked like a man who had been waiting too long for answers.

My heart dropped to my stomach.

I felt sick and scared.

I felt something else, too.

Something I didn’t want to name.

Something that made my palms sweat and my breath catch.

But I kept my face straight, refusing to give myself away. I refused to let him see what he did to me. I was Ariana Watson, not Ariana Russo.

And the sooner he understands that, the better.

I looked back down at the papers, pretending to read, pretending he wasn’t there. I pretended my heart wasn’t pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

"Ariana."

His voice was low, and Rough It sent a shiver down my spine. I didn’t look up; I kept my eyes on the paper.

I kept my pen moving.

I kept pretending.

"Ariana," he said again. Louder this time. "Look at me."

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

If I looked at him, I would fall apart.

If I looked at him, I would remember.

"I’m busy," I said, my voice was cold, flat, and empty. The voice of a woman who didn’t care. "If you have business with Mr. Watson, he’s not here. You can make an appointment with his secretary."

Dante wheeled his chair closer. The wheels squeaked on the floor. Each sound was louder than the last. Each sound brought him closer, and each sound made my heart beat faster.

"Stop pretending," he said. "Stop pretending you don’t know why I’m here. Stop pretending you don’t know who I am."

I kept my eyes on the paper, and my hand was shaking. The words were blurry: "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

He laughed. It was a bitter, hollow, and empty sound. "You’ve never met me before? Is that what you’re going with? After everything?"

My face burned, my hands shook, but I didn’t dare look up. I couldn’t. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. "

Dante slammed his hand on the desk. The sound was loud, the papers jumped, and the pen fell from my hand.

I flinched; I couldn’t help but look up.

His eyes were on fire.

His face was red.

His jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might break.

"Stop it," he said, his voice shaking with anger and pain. With something else. "Stop lying to me. Stop pretending. I know who you are, I know what you did, and you’re going to start explaining yourself. Right now."

I stared at him with my heart pounding. My whole body was shaking, but I didn’t look away.

I couldn’t.

His eyes held me.

Trapped me.

Dared me to run.

"I don’t have to explain anything to you," I said. My voice was cold. Steady. "You’re nobody to me. You’re just a client, a business partners and a man in a wheelchair who thinks he can intimidate me."

Dante’s eyes narrowed. "I’m nobody to you? Is that right?"

"You’re mistaken," I said, but my voice was weak.

Dante wheeled his chair around the desk and came to my side. He was so close I could smell him, that cologne.

The one I bought him.

The one he still wore.

The one that used to mean home.

"Start explaining," he said. His voice was low. Dangerous. "Why did you sign over my company to Ricardo? Why did you betray me? Why did you give everything to the man who tried to destroy us?"

I looked at him.

"Go ask your wife," I said. My voice was cold again. "She’s the one you trust. She’s the one you married. She’s the one who’s been running your company. She’s the one who can answer your questions, not me."

Dante’s jaw tightened his hands gripped the arms of his chair. "Don’t play games with me, Ariana. I’m not in the mood. You’re going to tell me what happened. You’re going to tell me why. You’re going to tell me everything."

I stood up and walked to the window, put my back to him. I couldn’t look at him anymore.

"I have nothing to say to you," I said. "Go back to your wife, back to your life. Go back to pretending everything is fine."

The wheels squeaked. He was moving, coming closer, and I could feel him behind me.

His presence.

His heat.

His anger.

"Watch your mouth," he said. His voice was low. Warning. "Watch how you speak to me. Or I’ll put your mouth to better use."

"Or what—"

Before I could register what was happening, he was out of his chair and standing. He walked towards me and pushed me against the wall with his hand on my neck, not hard, hurting, but firm. Holding me in place.

His body pressed against mine with his chest against my chest. His

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

I just stood there, frozen, as his eyes burned into mine.

Then his lips were on mine.