Chapter 5 - I Realized I Loved Him—And I Was Terrified To Admit It**
The weeks that followed were some of the happiest of my life.
I threw myself into my work.
I was good at it, and Dante noticed.
He gave me more responsibility, higher pay, more trust.
We worked late together many nights, going over projects and plans.
We talked about everything—our pasts, our dreams, our fears.
He told me more about his wife and son.
About how he had almost destroyed himself after they died.
About how he had built his empire not just for power, but to make sure no one else would ever hurt the people he cared about.
I told him about growing up poor, about working my way through college, about meeting Nolan and thinking he was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
About how he had slowly turned cruel, how I had felt trapped and alone.
He listened without judgment.
He held my hand when I cried.
He made me feel seen.
Valued.
Loved, even though he had never said the word.
And I loved him.
God, how I loved him.
I loved his quiet kindness.
I loved his dry sense of humor.
I loved the way he looked at me like I was the most important thing in the world.
I loved the way he protected everyone around him, even when he pretended to be hard and cold.
But I was terrified.
Terrified he didn’t feel the same way.
Terrified of the age difference between us—almost twenty years.
Terrified of his dangerous life.
Terrified that if I told him how I felt, I would lose everything I had built.
One evening, we were working late in his office.
The city lights sparkled outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Dante poured us both a glass of wine.
He handed me one, his fingers brushing against mine.
The touch sent a shiver down my spine.
“You’ve done amazing work these past few months,” he said, sitting on the edge of his desk.
“The downtown development project wouldn’t be on track without you.”
“Thank you,” I said, looking down at my wine glass.
“I couldn’t have done it without your trust.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he said my name, soft and low.
“Elena.”
I looked up at him.
His dark eyes were intense, searching my face.
“I need to tell you something,” he said, his voice tight.
“Something I should have said a long time ago.”
My heart started pounding.
I thought he was going to say he loved me.
I thought this was it.
But then his phone rang.
He cursed under his breath and answered it.
His face immediately hardened back into the mask of the boss.
“What is it?” he snapped.
He listened for a minute, then stood up.
“I’ll be right there.”
He hung up and looked at me, regret in his eyes.
“I have to go. Emergency. I’m sorry. We’ll finish this conversation later, I promise.”
He walked out before I could say anything.
I sat there alone, my heart racing, my wine untouched.
I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed.
But I knew one thing for certain.
I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t love him.
Not anymore.
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