In his Den

In his Den
CATHERINA’S POV

The world tilted the moment I stood up from the bar stool.
The last drink had been a mistake. A sweet one. A necessary one. But still a mistake.

Annette leaned against the counter, watching me with that mix of concern and amusement she always wore when I pushed myself too far.

“Girl, you’re done,” she said, taking the glass gently from my fingers. “I am not letting you drive home.”

I tried to argue, but my tongue felt thick, and the room swayed like someone had loosened the floor beneath my feet. She looped an arm around my waist and guided me outside.

“Come on. I will drop you off.”

The wind outside was sharp against my face, cutting through the fuzz settling over my mind. I climbed into the passenger seat, sinking into it as if it were the only solid thing left. The ride home blurred into passing lights and the dull hum of the engine, and before I knew it, Annette was shaking my shoulder gently.

“We are here. Go inside before you fall asleep in my car.”

I managed a small smile. “Thank you.”

“I mean it. Text me when you wake up.”

I nodded, though my head felt too heavy to do it properly.

I pushed the door open and staggered into the house. Thankfully, the hallway was empty. No eyes. No questions. Only the quiet echo of my footsteps as I slipped inside my room and collapsed onto the bed without even changing.

Sleep swallowed me whole.

The shrill, merciless scream of the alarm tore through my skull.
A piercing metal shriek.

I jerked upright, heart hammering, head pounding like someone was striking the inside of my forehead with a hammer. I grabbed the alarm clock blindly and flung it off the nightstand. It smacked against the wall with a sharp crack, then fell silent.

My brain felt… foggy.Thick.
As if someone had stuffed cotton inside my skull. Every thought was slow, sliding sluggishly across my mind.
Even the air felt too heavy to breathe.

I groaned, dragging myself out of bed. My legs felt unsteady, like they were remembering how to function. I stumbled toward the mirror.

The reflection made my stomach drop.
Hair tangled.Mascara smudged.Eyes red around the edges.A quiet, miserable version of myself stared back. A girl who had once promised never to become this.

I closed my eyes for a moment, gripping the sink until the room steadied.

The cold shower hit me like winter rain. Sharp. Punishing. But it cut through the fog inch by inch. By the time I stepped out, steam curling around the bathroom lights, I felt more like a human being.
I dried my hair, brushed it until it fell in soft waves, and tied it gently.

A deep breath.
I opened the door and walked down the stairs.

The scent of chicken and something warm and peppery drifted through the house. It wrapped around me, grounding me.

In the dining room, my mother sat with perfect posture, a soft smile playing on her lips. Dante sat beside her, unreadable as always, eyes lowered to his plate.

I slid into my seat quietly.

My mother looked at me. “How was everything yesterday?”

I didn’t trust my voice at first. I steadied myself and finally answered, “We ended everything. I am not going back to William.”

The air shifted for a moment.A soft acknowledgment in her eyes.A quieter one in mine.

I glanced at Dante from the corner of my eye. He did not react.
No frown.
No surprise.
Just that stoic, impenetrable expression he wore like armor.
As if nothing in the world could move him unless he allowed it.

I reached for my food, grateful for something else to focus on. The first bite was warm, comforting—
Until my mother spoke again.

“You will start working at Dante’s company on Monday,” she said calmly. “As his secretary.”

I choked.The food caught in my throat, and I coughed so hard tears stung my eyes.

Dante straightened slowly, his head turning toward her.
“Why?” he asked, his voice even and soft, but I could tell he was shocked.

My mother dabbed her lips with a napkin. “It is time she understands the family business.”

I stared at her. “Mum, no. I already told you. I want to keep working at Delph.”

“No,” she said, still calm, still firm. “This is final. You begin today. Thankfully, you have taken your bath already.”

My stomach dropped.Today.As in right now.As in walking into Dante’s company beside him like some lost child.

I opened my mouth to protest again, but Dante suddenly rose from his seat.
He cast a glance at me. A brief one.Not cold.Not warm.Just… assessing.

“You should be at the company before nine,” he said quietly.

Then he walked away, leaving his unfinished food behind.

I stared after him, heart sinking, the morning suddenly feeling far too loud and far too real.

And all I could think was:
What have I just stepped into?

Leonardo’s car horn was the first thing I heard—short, sharp, and impatient in that way only he could manage without sounding rude. I stepped outside with my bag clutched too tightly, my palms still damp from nerves I pretended not to have.

He sat behind the wheel, sunglasses on, one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel like he had all the time in the world. When I slid into the passenger seat, he didn’t look at me—just tilted his chin in greeting.

“You look alive,” he said casually, shifting the car into drive. “Better than I expected after yesterday.”

I let out a breath. “Barely.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, not a full smile—more like acknowledgment. He pulled out of the driveway, driving like he always did: one hand, relaxed posture, eyes forward, as if nothing about the world could bother him enough to sit up straight.

The streets blurred by, quiet and bright, sunlight spilling over rooftops. My stomach tightened with each passing block. I could feel the morning catching up to me, the reality of where we were going sinking teeth into my spine.

Leonardo glanced at me once, casually, then back to the road.
“So,” he said, voice light in a way that made the question feel heavier, “how are you feeling? First day working in your stepfather’s company.
”

I swallowed. My throat felt tight.
“I’m scared,” I admitted, the words small, honest, too raw to dress up.