radicalducati Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Mireille stepped into the living room after spending the evening in her room. Across the space, Dante stood with a man in a suit, who seemed to shrink under his gaze.
“Has he signed the contract?” Dante asked.
“Yes, boss.”
“Good. Let them go now.”
“Yes, boss. I’ll inform the guys to release them.”
“You may leave.”
The man hurried off, and Dante turned to Mireille. The sternness in his expression softened almost instantly, his features relaxing.
“What do you need, Princess?” he asked, his grey eyes fixed on her.
“You don’t intend to starve me, do you?” Mireille said, arching a brow.
Dante chuckled. “I don’t usually have dinner early, but it should be ready in a few minutes. I’ll have them adjust the schedule for you.” He smirked. “You still prioritize food a lot.”
“Stop acting like you know everything about me. It’s been seven years.” Mireille sat on one of the plush sofas, crossing her legs.
“I admit I don’t know *everything* anymore,” Dante replied, his tone sharper. “Like you getting a boyfriend.” The word hung in the air, and Mireille noted the flicker of something in his eyes—irritation, perhaps.
“There’s a lot more you don’t know,” she said, shifting slightly. Her gown rode up as she crossed her legs, exposing her thighs.
Dante’s gaze followed the movement as he took a seat opposite her. His eyes lingered until Mireille quickly tugged her dress down.
“Stop staring.”
He smirked lazily. “Other women would kill to have me looking at them like that.”
“I’m not ‘other women.’ I know how ugly you truly are,” Mireille shot back.
“Ugly?” Dante laughed. “We both know that word doesn’t apply to me.”
“I can’t see even a hint of beauty.”
“Maybe you’d see it if I took all these clothes off,” he teased. “A lot of women find me more... appealing when I’m naked.”
Mireille’s face flushed. “What are you doing?” she demanded as Dante unbuttoned the top of his shirt.
“Letting you see my beauty.”
Mireille jumped to her feet. “I think I’ll go back to my room. You’re still as much of a flirt as you always were.”
“Old habits die hard, Princess,” Dante quipped, standing as well. In three long strides, he was in front of her.
“Sit back down.” His hand brushed her arm as he guided her to the sofa. Mireille felt a sudden heat pool in her core, and she pressed her thighs together instinctively.
“I’ll get you some ice cream,” Dante said, retreating.
Mireille exhaled shakily as she tried to process what had just happened. She couldn’t place the sensation, but she knew one thing—it had never happened with Charles.
Dante returned minutes later with a cup of ice cream. “Vanilla. Still your favorite?”
“Yes,” Mireille said softly.
She dug in, using the spoon for a few bites before licking directly from the cup. Dante’s breath hitched. His thoughts turned darker, his imagination running wild with images of her tongue elsewhere—on him.
“Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath as his body reacted.
“What?” Mireille looked up, confused.
“Nothing,” Dante said, turning abruptly and shoving his hands into his pockets to conceal his arousal. “Just finish your ice cream. I have work to do.”
Mireille frowned slightly as he left, unsure of his sudden change in mood.
In his room, Dante closed the door and groaned. “What the fuck, Dante?” he muttered to himself. Mireille wasn’t a little girl anymore—she was a woman and a gorgeous one at that.
But he couldn’t cross that line.
“No,” he said firmly. Mireille had a boyfriend, and she wasn’t the type to cheat.
His phone buzzed, and he picked it up.
“Hey,” he said, answering.
“She’s with you now, right?” James’s voice came through the line.
“Yes, she’s safe with me.”
“Thanks, man.”
“It’s nothing. I’ve always adored my Princess.”
James chuckled. “Just make sure that adoration stays the same. I know you can’t help flirting with women, but don’t go too far with Mireille. Don’t touch her. Don’t mess with her. Promise me, Dante.”
Dante glanced down at the bulge in his pants and took a sharp breath.
“Promise me,” James insisted.
“Fine. I promise.”
“A real man never—”
“Never breaks his promise,” Dante finished, his voice low.
“Be a real man, Dante.”
Dante stared at the phone for a moment after the call ended, muttering, “Easier said than done.”