HL

~bpd~ The door has been locked for three hours. My phone is buried beneath my pillow, dozens of missed calls and messages lighting up the screen. Emerald has tried. Paige has tried. Even Dante has knocked more times than I can count. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want anyone near me. So when I hear Dante’s footsteps stop outside my bedroom, I already know what he’s going to say. “Baby, open the door.” I tell him to leave. He doesn’t. Dante Moretti is the kind of man who can silence an entire boardroom with a single look. He’s cold, controlled, and feared by almost everyone who works for him. But he knows me. He knows that sometimes my anger isn’t really anger. That sometimes pushing him away is easier than admitting how badly I need him. And tonight, he’s not leaving. Not even when I tell him I hate him. Not even when I tell him I don’t need him. Because Dante knows something I don’t want to admit— I don’t actually want him to go. And he intends to remind me that he’s staying.