The evening unfolded slowly, as though the universe had conspired to create a rare, quiet moment in the mansion. Isla had spent the day reading to Amara in the garden, her daughter’s giggles filling the air like music. Dante had watched them from the balcony of his study, his gaze lingering on Isla longer than he intended.
She was beautiful, the kind of beauty that wasn’t just external. There was a light in her-a strength, a warmth-that had drawn him in from the moment they’d met. He’d made many mistakes with her, but tonight, he resolved to push the past aside. Tonight, he wanted to remind her-and himself-of what they could be.
—
Later, as Amara played in the nursery, Dante called for Claudia, the mansion’s head maid.
“Yes, Mr. Dante?” Claudia asked, her voice respectful yet warm. She had worked in the mansion for years and had a soft spot for both Amara and Isla.
“I need you to look after Amara tonight,” Dante said, his tone firm but not unkind. “Make sure she’s fed and put to bed. I’ll be… occupied.”
Claudia raised an eyebrow, a hint of a knowing smile on her face. “Of course, sir. I’ll ensure she’s well taken care of.”
As Claudia left to fetch Amara, Dante straightened his tie, nerves bubbling beneath his usually calm demeanor. He wasn’t a man prone to second-guessing himself, but Isla had a way of disarming him.
—
Isla was in her bedroom when there was a knock at the door. She looked up from the book she was reading, her brow furrowing slightly. “Come in.”
Dante stepped inside, his presence commanding as always. He closed the door behind him, his eyes locking onto hers.
“Dante,” she said, sitting up straighter. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” he replied, his voice softer than usual. He walked closer, his hands tucked into his pockets. “I just thought… we could have dinner together. Just the two of us.”
She blinked, caught off guard. “Dinner? Now?”
“Yes,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve already made arrangements. Claudia is watching Amara. I thought it might be nice to spend some time alone.”
Isla hesitated, her heart thudding in her chest. It wasn’t like Dante to make such gestures, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. But the sincerity in his eyes was hard to ignore.
“Okay,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
—
The dining room had been transformed into something intimate and warm. The long, imposing table had been replaced by a smaller setup near the window, with a view of the moonlit gardens. Soft candles flickered on the table, casting a golden glow over the room.
Dante pulled out a chair for Isla, his hand brushing hers as she sat down. She glanced up at him, surprised by the gesture.
“This is… unexpected,” she said as he took his seat across from her.
“I thought it was time we had a moment to ourselves,” he replied, pouring her a glass of wine. “No distractions. No tension. Just us.”
A small smile played on her lips as she took a sip of her wine. “I didn’t know you could be so… thoughtful.”
He chuckled softly. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Isla.”
She raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Oh, really? Like what?”
“Like the fact that I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time,” he said, his tone serious now. “To spend time with you, without everything else getting in the way.”
Her smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. “Why now, Dante? After everything…”
“Because I’m tired of letting the past define us,” he said, leaning forward. “I know I’ve made mistakes, Isla. And I know I’ve hurt you. But I want to move forward. With you.”
She looked down at her plate, her heart racing. His words were sincere, and they touched a part of her she’d tried to keep guarded.
“I don’t know if it’s that simple,” she said quietly.
“I’m not asking for simple,” he replied. “I’m asking for a chance.”
—
As dinner progressed, the conversation flowed more easily. They talked about Amara, about the little quirks and habits that made her uniquely their daughter. They laughed about the time she’d tried to “fix” a broken vase with stickers, and Isla shared stories of her antics when Dante wasn’t around.
For a moment, it felt like they were just a normal couple, sharing a meal and reminiscing about their child.
After dessert, Dante stood and extended his hand. “Dance with me.”
She looked up at him, startled. “What?”
“Dance with me,” he repeated, his hand still outstretched.
“There’s no music,” she pointed out.
“We don’t need music,” he said, a soft smile on his lips.
Hesitating for only a moment, she placed her hand in his and let him guide her to an open space in the room. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, while his other hand held hers.
They swayed together in silence, the only sound the faint rustle of their movements.
“I missed this,” he murmured, his voice low.
“What?” she asked softly.
“Being close to you,” he said, his eyes locked on hers.
Her breath hitched, and she looked away, unsure of how to respond. But as his hand tightened slightly on her waist, she felt a warmth spread through her, melting some of the walls she’d built around her heart.
—
Later, back in her room, Isla couldn’t stop thinking about the night. Dante had walked her to her door, kissed her hand softly, and left without another word. It was such a simple gesture, yet it left her heart racing.
She sat on the edge of her bed, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Could she really let herself fall for him again? Could she trust him with her heart, after everything they’d been through?
Before she could answer her own questions, there was a soft knock at the door.
“Come in,” she said, expecting Claudia or perhaps Amara.
But it was Dante.
He stepped inside, his expression unreadable. “I couldn’t stay away,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Dante…”
“I mean it, Isla,” he said, closing the distance between them. “I’m trying. I’m trying to be the man you deserve. But it’s not enough if you don’t let me in.”
She looked up at him, her emotions warring within her. “I’m scared,” she confessed.
“I know,” he said, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his. “But I’ll spend every day proving to you that you don’t have to be. That you can trust me.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “Okay.”
He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “One step at a time.”
And for the first time in a long time, Isla felt a glimmer of hope.