radicalducati Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Mireille stepped out of the car as Dante held the door open. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the magnificent mansion before her.
Yes, she was used to seeing grand and beautiful homes, but this one was on an entirely different level—far grander, far more exquisite than anything she’d ever encountered.
“You should see the look on your face, Princess.” Dante snapped his fingers in front of her, jolting her back to reality.
“Have you gotten richer than you were back then?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
Dante chuckled, his smile smug. “Isn’t it obvious? And wouldn’t it be weird if I hadn’t? James got richer too, didn’t he?”
Before she could respond, two sharply dressed men approached them.
“Welcome home, boss,” they said, bowing slightly as they took the luggage from Dante.
“Leave,” Dante instructed curtly, and the men disappeared down the driveway without hesitation.
“Let’s go in, Princess,” he said, motioning for her to follow.
Mireille rolled her eyes at his relentless use of the title she hated, but she trailed behind him anyway.
As they entered the mansion, the living room stole her breath. The ceilings stretched impossibly high, adorned with intricate designs. The marble floors gleamed, and everything—furniture, fixtures, decor—spoke of wealth and impeccable taste.
“Your place is... really beautiful,” Mireille admitted, unable to keep her awe from slipping into her voice.
“A beautiful place is the only thing that suits a beautiful being like me,” Dante said with a smirk.
Mireille huffed under her breath. “Please show me to my room,” she said, ignoring his self-satisfied remark.
Dante led the way upstairs, walking with deliberate ease. They moved down a long, elegant hallway, finally stopping in front of a grand door. Dante pushed it open and stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter.
“I still remember that your favorite color is blue, so I had the room done up to your taste,” he said.
Mireille stepped inside and paused, her eyes scanning the room. The walls were painted a soft, calming blue, accented with luxurious silver trim. The bed was massive, covered in matching blue linens. Every detail, down to the vases of fresh flowers, seemed thoughtfully curated.
She was awed, but this time she chose not to show it. She didn’t want to give Dante another reason to puff up with pride.
“Here you are. I’ll be around. Call me if you need anything... anything at all.” Dante’s voice dipped low on the last three words, and Mireille felt her cheeks heat slightly. He probably hadn’t meant it the way her mind interpreted it, but still...
“I’ll be fine,” she said, quickly recovering. “I won’t need anything... anything at all.”
Dante smirked, then backed out of the room. “We’ll see,” he said before shutting the door behind him.
Mireille let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She walked over to the bed and sat down on its edge. Before she could fully collect her thoughts, her phone rang.
Groaning, she pulled it from her pocket and checked the screen: *Belinda.*
She answered, flopping back onto the bed. “Hey, Belinda.”
“Hey! You haven’t called me all day,” Belinda said, her voice loud and dramatic.
“It’s been a pretty crazy day,” Mireille replied, rubbing her temple.
“Really? Well, I’m on my way to your place. Are you home?”
“No, I’m not. James had something to deal with and asked me to stay with a friend.”
“For how long?” Belinda asked, curious.
“Three months,” Mireille grumbled.
“Oh my! That’s a long time. Who’s the friend? A woman?”
“No, a man.”
Belinda went silent for a beat. “Is he hot?” she finally asked.
Mireille sighed. Belinda’s obsession with attractive men was unshakable. “I... well...” Mireille hesitated. It felt odd admitting to someone else that her brother’s insufferable friend was, objectively, devastatingly good-looking.
“Wait,” Belinda pressed. “Is he ugly?”
“He’s hot,” Mireille finally admitted. “Very hot.”
“Oh my God! Do I know him?”
“I don’t know... He’s Dante Romano.”
“*Dante*?!” Belinda practically screamed. “What girl in this city doesn’t know freaking Dante?! Oh, Mireille, you’re staying with the dream man of thousands of women!”
“He’s not that great,” Mireille muttered, frowning.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Belinda insisted. “You’re so lucky to be around him. Forget about your boyfriend and go for Dante if you can.”
Mireille shot up from the bed, her irritation bubbling over. “I will never leave Charles for anyone—especially not a *fuckboy* like Dante! You know what kind of man he is. He uses women.”
“So you’re saying you don’t want him? At all?” Belinda asked skeptically.
“I don’t want him at all,” Mireille said firmly.
“Are you sure you won’t fall for him within three months?”
Mireille hesitated, biting her lip. “I... I won’t.”
“Alright then,” Belinda said, though her tone carried a note of disbelief. “Maybe I’ll visit you there sometime... to see Dante.” She giggled.
“Yeah, I’m sure the only reason you’d come is to ogle Dante,” Mireille said, rolling her eyes.
“You bet,” Belinda replied, laughing. “Anyway, tomorrow’s Charles’ birthday, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Mireille said, her voice softening. She toyed with the edge of her dress. “I’m thinking of... finally giving in to him. I want him to be my first.”
“Oh my God, Mireille, finally! You should’ve done it ages ago. But... are you sure Charles is the one? I’ve never liked him.”
Mireille frowned. “He’s definitely the one for me. We’ve been together for three years.”
“Three years, and I still see no chemistry between you two. Honestly, you look more like friends than lovers.”
“There’s chemistry!” Mireille argued. “You just don’t like him for some reason.”
“Fine, fine,” Belinda conceded. “Do what you want with your body, but think it through.”
“I’ve thought about it,” Mireille insisted.
“Alright then. I’ll call you later,” Belinda said before hanging up.
Mireille hugged a pillow to her chest, Belinda’s words replaying in her mind.
*No chemistry?* she thought.
She frowned as memories of her time with Charles surfaced. A lot of people had commented on how they seemed more like close friends than a couple. But wasn’t love more important than attraction?
*We love each other. That’s enough,* she told herself. But as she lay there, doubt lingered at the edges of her thoughts.