My Stepbrother Wants Me-Chapter 140: Don’t Look Back

Catherine’s POV

I was walking through the gardens but it felt like I was walking through an oven. My skin was prickling, and my vision blurring at the edges as the image of Julian’s lips pressed against Lucy’s kept on appearing in my mind.

How could he do that? Did he not for once think about how it would make me feel?

I could still hear everyone cheering them from the ballroom; a physical blow to my stomach.

"I think we can sit here," Dante’s low but steady voice pulled me back to my reality.

He didn’t ask me anything; he simply guided me toward a secluded stone alcove at the garden center.

I leaned against the cold stone, my chest heaving. I was trying to find my breath, trying to pull myself back together before I completely fell apart.

"Wow," he murmured, leaning back against the opposite pillar and crossing his arms. The moonlight caught the tattoos on his forearms, making them look like moving shadows. "I’ve heard stories about your forbidden relationship with your stepbrother, but I didn’t think a simple kiss would have this much of an effect on you."

"It didn’t," I snapped, though my voice betrayed me with a shaky tremor. I hugged my arms around my waist, staring at a patch of dirt as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "I’m just... I’m tired and stressed with the whole gala situation. These kinds of events are not my thing."

"If you are trying to tell a lie, then you are doing a very poor job," Dante said, his tone conversational but pointed. He stepped closer, invading my space just enough to make me look up. "Your eyes are bloodied, Catherine. You look like you’ve been staring into a furnace. And your chest? You’re fuming so hard I’m surprised the jasmine hasn’t wilted yet. I’m even scared you might transfer all that wrath to me."

I rolled my eyes at him, with a dismissive motion. I didn’t have the energy to argue, especially when I knew he was telling the truth.

Fuck Julian for putting me through this!

I turned my head away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

An annoying sound filled my ears that moment and I turned to find Dante trying so hard to hold his laughter.

When he saw my eyes on him, he finally let it out. It wasn’t a loud, boisterous laugh; it was a deep, rumbling chuckle that started in his chest and rolled out with an effortless, mocking quality.

"Stop it," I hissed, my eyes searching for a part of his body to strike. I reached out and hit his shoulder, my palm connecting with the solid muscle beneath his shirt. "Stop laughing! Nothing about this is funny. My life is being dismantled in front of a thousand people, and you’re standing here treating it like a comedy show."

He didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. He just looked down at me, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. "I can’t help it. Thanks to Julian, at least I get to see this side of you. Most of the women I’ve met look really ugly when mad. But you? When you’re angry, you’re actually so pretty. It’s a cute look on you."

Huh? How the hell could he be making jokes when I was on the brink of losing it?!

"You’re an asshole," I spat, hitting him again, and again, my fists thumping against his chest in pure frustration. "You are so insensitive! Do you find any of this funny, huh? Does this look like a game to you? Do you have any idea how worthless I feel? Julian didn’t even think about me for a se—"

The words choked off as my throat tightened. The anger, which had been a solid wall holding back my tears, suddenly crumbled.

The first sob escaped before I could catch it, and then the tears began to pour down my face.

I didn’t want to cry, especially not in front of him. I didn’t want to cry at all but I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Dante’s laughter died that minute and his face turned rigid, the teasing light in his eyes replaced by something dark and focused. Before I could pull away, he reached out and grabbed both of my hands, his grip firm but strangely gentle.

"Hey, I’m sorry," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "Stop crying... please."

"I can’t," I gasped, my shoulders shaking.

"Listen to me," he said, stepping into my personal space until I was forced to lean back against the stone wall. He didn’t let go of my hands. "If you care to know, I think Julian is a brainless idiot. Do you hear me? Only a man with a hollow skull would leave a goddess who actually loves him for an evil spirit with red hair and a wicked soul."

The sheer absurdity of the description; evil spirit with red hair, ran through my memory a second time and it made me laugh out freaking loud.

"See? There she is," Dante murmured. He released my hands and moved one to my cheek, cupping it. His thumb was rough but careful as he swiped away the tears. He applied a slight pressure, forcing me to look up into his hazel eyes. They were intense. "You can’t be crying for a man like that, not when you’re in the list of top five prettiest girls I’ve ever seen. And trust me, you’re nowhere near the bottom three. Women like you don’t cry over men, especially men like him, instead you make them regret they ever breathed your air."

He was right but I couldn’t help myself still.

"I just want to understand why he did it?" I whispered, my heart aching so loudly I thought he could hear it. "Why make me fall in love with him just to make me look like a fool? I don’t understand."

"Because he’s a fool himself," Dante said, his thumb still tracing the line of my jaw. "And he’s about to realize exactly how much he—"

Suddenly, Dante’s body went stiff. His eyes moved past my shoulder, focusing on something behind me. His expression shifted instantly, his jaw setting into a hard, rigid line. "Focus on me."

"Why? What is it?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Is someone there?"

"Don’t turn around," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "Catherine, listen to me. I’m sorry about this, but I need you to play along. Right now."

"Play along with wha—"

I didn’t get to finish the question before Dante leaned in, his hand sliding from my cheek to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. Before my brain could process the warning, his lips crashed onto mine.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was hungry, possessive, and loud. A kiss that made me forget how to breathe.