Chapter 35 Chapter 35
Lily
The sun casts a warm golden glow over Sicily as Dante leads me by the hand toward a sleek black Audi parked just outside the villa. He opens the door for me with a subtle gentlemanly nod, then walks around to the driver’s seat and gets in. As he starts the engine, his hand finds mine again, resting between us on the gearshift like it belongs there.
He doesn’t let go, not once during the drive.
We arrive at a modern shopping mall nestled within the vibrant pulse of Palermo. The cool air inside brushes against my skin as we wander through polished floors and boutique stores. We browse for a while, slipping in and out of clothing shops. I admire a few things but feel no urge to buy. Dante watches me with careful eyes.
Then, without asking, he picks a dress, a soft, flowy one in a color that flatters my skin, and holds it up to me.
“This will look insanely good on you,” he says, confident, leaving no room for argument.
I try to resist but his charming persistence wins. He makes me try it on and insists on buying it.
Afterward, we slip out of the mall and into the lively streets of Palermo. The city hums with energy, narrow cobblestone alleys, balconies draped with flowers, street vendors calling out in Italian. We walk hand in hand through it all, sharing bites of street food, arancini, panelle, and crispy fried seafood served hot in little paper cones. The flavors are rich and rustic, exploding with Sicily’s essence.
Then, we stop by a little stand selling granita. He buys me a cup of the lemon one, famous here, bright and icy with just the right tartness. It melts coolly on my tongue, refreshing under the Mediterranean sun.
As we continue strolling, we pass a woman selling colorful bandanas under a white umbrella. One catches my eye, blue and white, patterned like tiny waves. I reach for it and she offers to tie it on my head. I laugh as she adjusts it gently, her fingers quick and experienced.
Dante pulls out his phone and starts recording me with a grin.
“You look like a Sicilian goddess,” he says playfully. “Mine.”
I blush, biting my lip, and he tucks the phone away only after capturing the moment.
The sky begins to soften into a gentle hue of orange as the sun tilts toward the horizon. A calm breeze moves over the beach, rustling through my hair and carrying the scent of salt and summer. Dante and I sit close together on a striped blanket spread out across the warm sand. The waves roll in gently, rhythmic and soothing—like the world has finally decided to be quiet.
I hold a half-melted chocolate gelato in my hand, the creamy sweetness cold against the summer air. I take a small bite, then smile as I tilt it toward Dante. He leans forward and takes a bite from the same cone, our eyes meeting for a brief, playful second before he settles back beside me. He’s in his sunglasses, shirt unbuttoned just slightly, golden skin catching the fading light.
I glance around, soaking in the peace. The soft crashing of waves, the occasional laughter in the distance, the hush of wind, it’s all so different from the chaos we’ve lived through. No threats, no bloodshed, no looming danger. Just this: two people, a beach, and the illusion of forever.
“What will we do after this?” I ask softly, curiosity stirring beneath my contentment.
Dante turns to look at me, his voice cool and unhurried. “I have a meeting at my nightclub tonight,” he says, lifting his sunglasses slightly to make sure I’m really listening. “And you’re coming with me.”
I groan, scrunching my nose. “I hate meetings.”
He smirks. “You won’t be in the meeting. You’ll just be at the club. There’ll be drinks, music… dance as much as you want.”
“Okay then,” I say with a reluctant smile, taking another small bite of gelato before feeding him again.
Right now, I don’t mind where we go, because wherever it is, I’ll be with him.
As soon as we arrive at Dante’s house, I head upstairs to get ready. The moment feels special, and I want to feel beautiful—but effortlessly so. I choose a glittery pink dress that hugs me in all the right places without trying too hard. It catches the light with every subtle movement. I slip on a pair of simple heels and leave my hair down, letting the natural waves fall freely over my shoulders. My makeup is barely there, just soft touches to brighten my face, a hint of blush, gloss on my lips, and mascara to lift my eyes.
When I come downstairs, Dante is already waiting. He looks like sin in human form, dressed in all black, head to toe. A tailored black suit, black shirt, black shoes. It’s bold, intense, and impossibly magnetic. He doesn’t say much, but the look he gives me says everything.
The drive to the club in Palermo takes about 25 minutes, but the journey feels like a scene from a movie. The night lights of Sicily shimmer through the car window, golden and alive, painting the city in a warm glow. I watch the buildings blur past, the breeze from the open window playing with my hair while Dante drives, his hand resting possessively on my thigh.
Once we arrive, Dante leads me through the entrance of the club, loud music thrumming just beneath the surface, and takes me straight to the VIP lounge. It’s elevated and tucked away from the crowd, with sleek leather couches, a glossy table, and a private bar just for the elite.
“I’ve already talked to the waiter,” Dante says, his voice low and smooth as he turns to me. “You can have as many drinks as you want.” His eyes linger on mine, and I nod in reply, a small smile tugging at my lips.
He leans down and brushes a light kiss against my cheek—soft, but possessive in its own way. “The people are waiting in my office upstairs,” he says. “I’ll see you in a while.”