Chapter 43 The safehouse
Sienna tried to start therapy as usual, but Dante barely looked at her. He followed instructions mechanically, jaw tight, eyes somewhere far away.
When she reached to adjust his leg brace, he flinched. It was instinctive, but it hurt more than words.
She pulled her hand back slowly. “You think I should go, don’t you?”
He hesitated. “I think you should be safe.”
Her heart twisted. “You mean away from you.”
He said nothing. And that silence broke her more than any accusation ever could.
Unknown to them, Isabelle was outside the villa smiling for the cameras. She stood at the gates, dressed in white, her hand brushing fake tears from her eyes as microphones pushed closer.
“All I ever wanted was love,” she said softly. “But some people only come into your life to destroy it.”
The maid was the first to notice it, she called Sienna. She stood frozen at the top of the stairs, watching the chaos through the window. Dozens of reporters shouted Dante’s name, cameras flashing. Isabelle turned slightly, her face tilted up, her expression angelic as if she knew Sienna was watching.
The smile that followed wasn’t kind. It was a warning.
Sienna stepped back, her stomach twisting.
“Don’t go near the windows,” Dante said from behind her. His voice was quiet but tense, carrying the sharp edge of decision. “We’re leaving.”
“Leaving?” She turned, startled. “Where?”
“Somewhere no one will find us.”
“Why?” She asked. “Are you running away from her?”
Dante didn't answer, he simply pulled her towards the back entrance of the villa. He knew what Isabelle was trying to do, and she could let the reporters inside just to humiliate Sienna. Isabelle was that evil.
They've been together for years before Isabelle broke off their engagement. She's the only child of Lord Laurent, and heiress to an empire worth billions of dollars. She has a way of making things work out for her, even if someone gets hurt. Her concern is getting what she wants.
He was willing to be seen as being weak by Sienna,than the world to see him as such. It would hurt his ego. And if protecting Sienna made him weak, he was willing to be weak for her.
The road down to the coast wound through cliffs and pine trees. Rain started halfway, soft at first, then angry.The windshield wipers moved in harsh rhythm, matching the storm brewing between them.
Sienna kept her eyes on the sea through the fog. “You should’ve told me she was going to do this.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You always know what she’s going to do.”
He didn’t answer. The silence stretched, heavy with things unsaid.
Finally, he said quietly, “If I’d told you, you wouldn’t have stayed.”
Sienna looked at him. The faint light from the storm cut across his face tired, drawn, but still defiant. “And you wanted me to?”
“Yes.” The honesty in that one word broke her more than lies ever could. And that was the last time someone spoke in the car, the rest of the journey was made in silence.
In a few minutes, they arrived at their destination. The guesthouse stood alone on the edge of the cliff with stone walls, broken shutters, salt in the air. The kind of place the world forgot. Inside, it smelled of damp wood and the sea.
Dante closed the door behind them.
“This place belonged to my mother,” he said softly. “She used to come here when she wanted to disappear.”
Sienna ran her fingers along the old wooden table. “So you brought me to your mother’s hiding place.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “I brought you somewhere she’d feel safe.”
Something in her chest cracked.
Hours passed before either spoke again.
The storm pressed against the windows, wind howling through the cracks.
Sienna sat near the fire, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had gone cold. Dante sat across from her, shadows flickering over his face.
Finally, she said, “Tell me about her.”
His jaw tightened. “My mother?”
She nodded.
He stared into the fire for a long time before answering. “She left when I was ten. Said she couldn’t stay in a house where love was currency.”
“Your father?”
He nodded once. “He wasn’t kind. And I wasn’t enough.”
The words came rough, like gravel in his throat.
“She was everything gentle in that house. When she left, the silence swallowed everything.”
Sienna listened, heart aching for the boy behind those words.
He continued, softer now. “Luca came a year later. My father married his mother, his perfect, smiling, clever wife. The kind of woman who made sure everyone knew who the favorite son was.”
Sienna felt her chest tighten. “Luca’s your half-brother.”
He nodded. “Yeah, same father. Most times I doubt he's my son of my father.”
There was no bitterness in his tone, just exhaustion. “Luca’s mother made sure my mother was erased from everything. Photos, memories, even her perfume. Like she’d never existed.”
Sienna reached out before thinking, her hand brushing his. “I’m sorry.”
He looked at her fingers, then at her face. “Don’t be. I learned early that people leave when you need them most. It’s how the world works.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s how hurt works.”
They sat in silence, the fire crackling softly between them. Then Dante said, almost absently, “You never talk about your family.”
She hesitated, then sighed. “Because there’s not much left to say.”
His gaze lifted.
“I was in med school,” she began, her voice trembling. “Second year. I was late for a lecture when I got the call, my father and brother were gone. A car accident. Same day,.same road.”
Dante’s face softened, pain flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry about that.”
“I didn’t either,” she whispered. “They said it was an accident. But no one ever told me what really happened. I didn’t even see their bodies. I just” She stopped, swallowing hard. “I just kept studying because it was the only thing that made sense.”
The room felt smaller. The storm outside grew louder, as if echoing their memories.
Dante leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re stronger than you think.”
Sienna laughed weakly. “Strong? I’m hiding in a storm with a man who can barely stand.”
He smiled faintly. “And I’m alive because of you.”
The air between them changed, it became heavier, fragile, full of something of unsaid secrets.
He wanted to tell her everything. How he’d failed his mother, how he’d tried to be the son his father wanted, how he’d let Isabelle fill the hollow parts of him because he didn’t know how to be alone.
But instead, he said, “You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to keep safe.”
She looked up sharply. “Safe from what?”
“From me,” he said quietly. “From what I bring.”
The wind rattled the windows. The fire hissed low.
Her eyes softened, filled with something he didn’t deserve. “You’re not poisonous, Dante.”
He wanted to believe her. He wanted to feel genuinely loved for once, but he wasn't sure he deserved it.