Chapter 153 153

Chapter 153 153
EVA

Chloe left after dinner, her car disappearing through the gate, the red taillights fading into the dark. I stood at the door for a moment, the cool night air on my face, and let the silence settle around me. The house was quiet.

I went up to Lily's room and found her already half-asleep, her small body curled under the covers, her stuffed rabbit tucked under her arm. The nurse told me she'd woken up for a few hours in the afternoon, ate some soup, watched cartoons, and fell back asleep. I sat on the edge of her bed and brushed the hair from her face, her skin warm and soft under my fingers. She stirred but didn't wake.

I kissed her forehead and pulled the blanket up to her chin. "Goodnight, baby."

I stood there for a moment, watching her breathe, then switched off the lamp and walked out.

The bedroom was empty. The bathroom door was closed, water running behind it. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out my phone. The notifications were still coming in, a steady stream of likes and comments and messages from people I hadn't spoken to in years. I scrolled through them absently, my thumb moving over the screen, and stopped at a headline.

"Who Is the Mystery Woman in Dante DeLuca's Life? New Photos Surface."

I clicked on it.

Speculation has been mounting for weeks about the identity of the woman who has captured the attention of Dante DeLuca, the billionaire CEO of DeLuca Foundation and Atlantic-Maritime Capital. After the abrupt cancellation of his alleged engagement to socialite Blair Beaumont, sources have confirmed that DeLuca is in a relationship with a woman named Eva Bishop.

Bishop, a single mother and event planner who works for the DeLuca Foundation, has been spotted at DeLuca's estate multiple times in recent weeks. Photos obtained by our team show her driving a luxury vehicle believed to be a gift from DeLuca himself. Insider sources claim the couple has been together for months and that DeLuca is serious about the relationship.

One source close to the family said, "Dante has never introduced anyone to his family before. The fact that Eva has been spending time at the estate and has even met his father says everything."

The source also noted that Bishop is a "private person" who has not spoken publicly about the relationship. "She's focused on her career and her daughter. She's not interested in the spotlight."

Despite the attention, those close to the couple say they are happy. "Dante is completely devoted to her. It's different this time."

I stared at the screen. There was a photo attached, one of the pictures Chloe had taken of me by the car. My face, my smile, the white Range Rover gleaming behind me. I looked happy. I looked like someone who had everything figured out.

I scrolled down. The comments were endless.

> Good for her. She's gorgeous.

> This is what happens when you choose a real woman over a socialite.

> Who is she? I need to know everything.

> She's a single mom? Queen energy. I hope he treats her well.

> Dante DeLuca finally settled down? Never thought I'd see the day.

I set the phone down and stared at the ceiling. My face was everywhere. My name was everywhere. People were talking about me, speculating about me, and I hadn't said a single word.

I picked the phone back up and opened my messages. A text from Adam.

Adam: Saw the article. Congratulations, I guess? Let me know if you need anything for work.

I typed back.

Me: Thanks. I'll be taking some time off. Working from home for a while.

He replied almost immediately.

Adam: Understood. Take care of yourself.

I set the phone down. Walking into the foundation right now, with everyone staring and whispering, pretending they weren't reading the same articles I was reading, made my stomach turn. I couldn't do it. Not yet.

A box on the nightstand caught my eye. Mira's gift. I stared at it for a moment, the paper wrapping still intact. I'd been so overwhelmed by everything else that I'd forgotten about it completely.

I reached for it and pulled it into my lap. The bathroom was still running.

I opened the lid. The lingerie was delicate, barely there, a pale rose color that shimmered slightly under the light. I held it up, the fabric pooling in my hands, and I don't know what came over me but I stood up and walked into the closet.

I pulled off my clothes and slipped into the lingerie. The lace was soft against my skin, the straps thin, the cut low. I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. My cheeks were pink, my eyes wide, my body barely covered. I looked ridiculous. But the water had stopped, and I heard the bathroom door open before I could overthink myself out of it.

I stepped out of the closet.

Dante was standing by the bed, a towel draped over his shoulders, his hair wet and dark against his forehead. He wore only his trousers, his chest still damp from the shower, the bandage on his side visible beneath the water droplets. He was drying his hair with the towel, his movements slow and unhurried.

He looked up.

His hand stilled. His eyes traveled down my face, down my neck, down to the lace covering my body, and his jaw tightened. Amusement flickered across his face, followed by something darker.

"You've been planning this?"

I shook my head. "It just happened."

He crossed the room in two steps, his hand coming up to my jaw, tilting my face toward his. He studied me for a moment, his thumb tracing my lower lip, and then he kissed me. His mouth was warm, his lips moving against mine, and I felt the towel drop from his shoulders and land on the floor behind him.

His hands found the bare skin of my back, his fingers pressing into my spine, pulling me closer until there was nothing between us but the lace. I could feel the heat of his body through the fabric, the water still damp on his chest soaking through the thin material.

"Lily's asleep," I said against his mouth.

He hummed and kissed me again. His hands moved down to my hips, gripping the lace, and he walked me backward until the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed. I fell onto the mattress, him following, his body covering mine.

He kissed my neck, my collarbone, the bare skin above the lace. His mouth was warm, his breath hot, and I arched into him, my fingers threading through his wet hair. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his gray eyes dark.

"Ridiculous," he said.

"I know."

His fingers found the clasp of the lingerie, the thin strap that held the whole thing together, and he worked it open. The lace fell away, pooling around my waist, and he pulled back just enough to look at me.

I reached for the waistband of his trousers, my fingers fumbling with the button, and he let me. I pushed them down, his hips lifting just enough to let me, and then there was nothing between us but heat and skin and his body pressing me into the mattress.

He moved slowly, watching my face, his hand cupping my jaw. Every time I winced or tensed, he stopped, his thumb stroking my cheek. His fingers found the scar on my side from the accident, and he traced it gently.

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

He kissed me again and pushed into me, slow and steady, and I gasped against his mouth. He held still for a moment, his forehead pressed against mine. I could feel his breath on my skin, the tension in his muscles as he held himself back.

"You can move," I said.

He did. His pace was unhurried, his hands never leaving my body, his mouth never leaving mine. He watched me, his eyes searching my face for any sign of discomfort. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him closer, and he groaned against my neck.

His hand found mine, his fingers interlacing with mine, pressing them into the mattress beside my head. I felt everything. The weight of his body, the heat of his skin, the rhythm of him moving inside me. His breath on my neck, his lips on my collarbone, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.

The pressure built slowly, and I let myself go. He felt it too, his pace quickening, his breath coming harder, and he buried his face in my neck as he came, his body shuddering against mine.

We stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together, the room quiet except for our breathing. He pulled back first, his eyes finding mine in the dim light, and he kissed me again.

He rolled off me and lay on his back, one arm draped over his eyes, his chest rising and falling. I watched him for a moment. The bandage on his side. The scar above his ribs.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He reached over and pulled me against his chest, his arm wrapping around my waist. "I'm fine."

I relaxed into him, my head resting in the crook of his neck. I could feel his heartbeat.

The car in the driveway, the white Range Rover gleaming under the lights. The bow on the hood. The way he'd planned the whole thing. He knew exactly what I needed without me having to say a word.

Lily, asleep in her room, getting stronger every day. The foundation, the work I was supposed to be doing. The meetings and emails and deadlines I'd left behind.