Chapter 79 — The Storm Inside
Dante's POV
The city sprawled below my office like a living organism, lights flickering, streets humming, cars streaming like veins of gold. I should have been impressed, distracted, satisfied with the view. Instead, every bright detail felt like a mockery.
I couldn't think about the skyline. I couldn't focus on spreadsheets, mergers, or client calls. Every calculation, every strategy meeting, every trivial business task blurred in the same pounding headache: Celestine.
Her scent. Her smile. Her boldness. The way she had pressed herself into me.
The kiss.
God. That kiss.
I had tried to tell myself it was nothing. A lapse. A mistake. A fleeting, meaningless surge of weakness. But my body remembered it. My mind replayed it. And worse… my chest tightened every time I thought about Auri.
Auri.
The woman who trusted me. Who loved me unconditionally. Who had slowly—painstakingly—healed after losing our child. She had made herself vulnerable again. She had laughed, she had smiled, she had clung to me, and I…
I had almost ruined it.
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, letting the darkness of the room wrap around me. My hands tightened into fists.
I hated myself.
The guilt bites
I could still feel Auri's warmth from last night—her head resting against my chest, the faint brush of her hair, the soft, trusting tone of her voice.
I had kissed Celestine while thinking about her.
I had betrayed her emotionally, and I had been too weak to stop it.
I swallowed hard, jaw aching. Every breath felt thick with guilt. Every pulse screamed shame.
I should have never allowed Celestine near me again. I should have never let her exploit my weakness. But I had, and now the consequences gnawed at me.
I couldn't face Auri knowing the truth. Not yet.
Not ever, if I could help it.
The temptation lingers
Celestine's image invaded my mind like a persistent shadow.
The curve of her smile. The tilt of her head. The way she had spoken, whispering just close enough to set my skin on fire. The way she pretended to be apologetic but wasn't.
I hated that my body remembered. Hated that my mind betrayed my heart. Hated that I wanted her, even as I wanted Auri more than air.
I pushed myself up and began pacing.
"No," I muttered. "No. I am not… I will not. I won't let her—"
But she existed in my mind anyway.
And I wanted her.
And I hated myself for it.
The cold wall I put up
By the time Auri walked into the office later that evening, I had built a wall around myself—cold, controlled, calculated.
She smiled at me, unaware of the storm raging inside me, warmth radiating from her like a fragile sun.
"Dante!" she said, bright as ever, a little excited. "I brought the reports you asked for. Also… guess what Marcela said today—"
I barely heard her.
I nodded, voice clipped. "Thanks."
She frowned slightly. "You okay?"
I forced a smile, an empty gesture. "Fine. Just… tired."
Her eyes lingered on me. I could see the question in them, the worry, the slight unease. I hated that she could sense me. Hated that she was so perceptive. Hated that she might be onto me—even if she didn't know what exactly to suspect.
I turned back to my work. Closed my mind to her warmth, to her voice, to the way her smile had always made my chest unclench.
The push and pull of desire
Later, after she left the office, I sat alone. The room felt suffocating, empty yet unbearable.
I imagined her again. Celestine. The temptation. Her body language, her teasing, her audacity.
And I hated myself for how much I remembered.
My pulse quickened. My stomach tightened. My body reacted against me.
I slammed my hand against the desk. "No! No! No!"
I had to fight it. I had to.
For Auri. For her trust. For the love she had poured back into me after the worst months of our lives.
But the fight… the fight was exhausting.
I leaned back, covering my face with my hands.
How could someone who loved so purely, so painfully, be so easily manipulated by desire?
I felt like a traitor to her. A coward. A fool.
Auri's shadow in my mind
I thought of her again.
Her laughter. Her smile. The way she had shared Marcela's absurd story about pink cake and pigeons attacking her at the park. The way she had trusted me with her healing.
I closed my eyes and whispered her name, choking on guilt.
I'm so sorry, Auri. I'm so sorry.
I hated that I had been weak. I hated that I had allowed temptation into our lives. I hated that my mind betrayed my heart, and my body betrayed my mind.
And worst of all—I hated that I couldn't tell her.
Celestine's shadow grows
I couldn't avoid her. Celestine had made her intentions clear, and she would not give up. She would not stop until I had fully yielded.
And the worst part—I had almost done so already.
I sat in silence, hands shaking, knowing that every second I delayed, every moment I spent near Auri, I risked more mistakes. Mistakes that would destroy everything.
The thought of Auri's innocent trust… the warmth of her smile… the softness of her voice…
It made me stronger.
And it made me angrier.
The choice I must make
I ran a hand over my face, finally standing.
I couldn't let her win. I couldn't let myself fall. I couldn't let my weakness undo what Auri and I had built.
I had to be stronger than desire.
Stronger than temptation.
Stronger than guilt.
Because if I failed again… if I let Celestine cross the line…
I would lose her.
And losing Auri was something I couldn't survive.
I straightened my tie, adjusted my jacket, and stared at the city lights once more.
Tonight, I would fight.
Tonight, I would resist.
And tomorrow… tomorrow, I would try to be the man she needed, the man she deserved.
But inside, a part of me whispered, relentless and dangerous:
I am already a traitor.