“I never asked to be your queen.”
Dante’s gaze did not soften.
“You were chosen. That is worse.”
The city outside the penthouse was silent, but inside Dante Ravelino’s world, silence was always dangerous.
Aruna stood near the glass wall, her fingers trembling as she pressed them against the cold surface. The reflection staring back at her did not look like the girl who once dreamed of escaping the night. She looked like someone who belonged to it.
Behind her, Dante poured whiskey into a crystal glass. The sound was slow, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world.
“You’re afraid,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Aruna turned, meeting his eyes. “If I were afraid, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
Dante stepped closer. His presence was overwhelming, not because of his size or hi
