Chapter 31
Riena bit down hard on her lip.
The cool touch of his unnaturally cold hand, the way he scooped ointment and spread it across her wrist, the careful, deliberate manner in which he wrapped the bandage—as though the slightest mistake might shatter her bones.
All of it felt unsettling, unpleasant.
Her shoulders twitched with an involuntary shiver.
Gritting her teeth, Riena dug her free hand into the sofa’s armrest, gripping it as though she might tear it apart.
“All done.”
At his words, Riena snatched her hand back from Dante’s grasp.
The wrist bound in bandages felt strangely awkward.
Stroking it absently, she fixed Dante with a wary gaze.
But Dante paid her no mind.
Whether she glared or not, he remained absorbed in methodically tidying away the medicine box.
After all, there was nowhere for her to run.
Once he closed the box, he finally lifted his head—and let out a low laugh, not bothering to hold it back.
It was amusing, really.
The way she made her suspicion so transparent, bristling with her whole body, glaring as though he were some alley cat she’d dragged home.
When she had followed him all the way here.
When she had just entrusted even her wrist to him without protest.
Yet now, she looked at him as though he were a man about to commit some vile deed.
Dante tilted his head slightly.
Entertaining, but not entirely pleasant.
Feigning ignorance, he asked,
“What’s wrong?”
“…I should go home now.”
His golden eyes narrowed.
“Funny. Don’t you think you’ve forgotten something?”
At his mocking tone, Riena frowned for a moment—then realization dawned, and her lips parted in a faintly conflicted expression.
“Am I supposed to thank Your Grace? But you’re the one who grabbed my wrist in the first place—”
“You shouldn’t have turned your back on me, then.”
His brazen retort made her expression crumple.
“But it was you who—!”
“That ‘Your Grace’ business is starting to grate on me.”
Cutting her off, Dante crossed his arms and tapped his finger idly against them in a crooked, almost insolent pose.
“Didn’t you used to call me you instead?”
You—how are you here…
Riena’s face twisted sharply.
Of all things, he brought up that?
She stumbled over her words.
“That was… I was too shocked at the time.”
“Was it?”
Dante chuckled, lowering his gaze.
His lips curved with their familiar arrogance, chin tilting ever so slightly.
“Say it again. Now.”
“…I refuse.”
“Why? Would you rather use my name?”
Still smiling, he muttered under his breath, a nasal sound slipping out.
“Hardly looks proper, does it? A grown man and woman, strangers to each other, calling one another by name. Especially when one is an outsider.”
His tilted head all but asked: Are you sure you’re fine with that?
Heat surged up Riena’s chest.
She glared at him, drawing back.
“For years I’ve called you ‘Your Grace’… and you never said a word.”
For years.
She hadn’t needed to explain more—Dante understood.
She meant the years they had been married.
He nodded casually.
“True. And maybe that’s why I hate it more now.”
“…That’s unreasonable.”
“It’s my specialty.”
His triumphant grin made her scowl deepen.
His shifting demeanor unsettled her—arrogant, capricious, selfish, and cold-blooded as ever, the Duke of Venachert.
It wasn’t enough that fate had brought him before her again.
She had to face him once more.
This could only be ill-fated.
After a moment’s hesitation, still frowning, she lifted her gaze.
Her eyes met the sharp glint of his golden ones.
“If I call you something else… Will you let me go home? Right away?”
“I promise.”
Liar.
Riena’s eyes narrowed.
She could tell, somehow.
She didn’t know which part of it was false—but it was.
Most of his promises were.
Yes, he always kept them in the end, but always on his terms.
No one but Dante ever knew how, or when, or in what manner he would fulfill them.
She had learned that the hard way.
And still, the only choice left to her was to promise with him again.
The unfairness of it made her chest burn.
Dawn was close.
Glancing at the clock on the table, Dante exhaled.
He knew well enough she would never call him anything else.
Still, he had hoped.
The request had been half impulse anyway… but his pride was now at stake.
Sweeping back his bothersome bangs, he spoke abruptly.
“In the morning, my aide will come for a briefing.”
“…”
“If he sees you leaving my chambers… what do you suppose he’ll think? I know what I’d think.”
His golden eyes gleamed, savoring her discomfort.
Dante had a talent for torment, for getting exactly what he wanted.
And, unfortunately, it worked.
Biting her lip, Riena forced the words out slowly, painfully.
“…Do you know how cruel you are? More than a little.”
Dante’s smile curved smoothly.
“Oh, I know. Very well.”
By then the sky was painted pale blue.
Stopping in her tracks, Riena turned to him.
“You should head back now. From here, I’ll go alone.”
How far did he intend to follow?
It had already been some time since they left the resort through the back path, descending the hillside.
The sea was not far now.
Lifting her brows, she spoke firmly,
“All I asked was for directions out of the resort.”
“And I’m showing you.”
His shameless reply left her speechless.
She bit her lip, sighing softly.
He knew full well she hadn’t asked to be escorted.
But she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
To admit aloud that he was escorting her.
Casting nervous glances around, she muttered,
“We’re already outside the resort. And… What if someone sees us? It’s nearly morning.”
“They won’t.”
“There are workers who start early. That’s just your—”
“Should I call it bold… or insolent?”
Hands clasped behind his back, Dante looked down at her small figure, tilting his head again.
“Is it that I’m invisible to you?”
“…I don’t know why you’d say that now.”
“I’m sure I’ve told you before. What matters isn’t the gaze of others.”
Not when there’s something else you should be worrying about.
At the sudden flash of memory, Riena swallowed a sigh and clenched her teeth.
He was twisting words again.
He’d said he would listen—and now acted as if it never mattered.
Her eyes chilled.
She fixed him with an icy stare.
“Perhaps it’s you who has forgotten our promise.”
Her voice cut sharp into his ear.
“You agreed to grant my request.”
“…”
“Oh, I see. My concerns don’t matter to you, so that’s why you’re doing this?”
Her fists trembled.
The bandaged wrist ached, clearing her head.
She glared at him.
She was done.
She could not endure his capricious whims any longer.
Her lips pressed tight, her eyes flashing cold.
Unable to stop herself, she hurled blunt words at him.
“Why won’t you answer? If you were going to behave like this, you shouldn’t have promised at all. You must find it amusing—how easily fooled I am, always swayed by you—”
“Enough.”
Dante finally spoke.
Glancing at his watch, his words were short, clipped.
“Go on. Now.”
“…What?”
“You can go now, Riena.”
He might as well not have heard her tirade at all.
His tone was flat, unchanged.
Stunned, Riena blinked at him.
His face showed nothing—cold, detached, as ever.
Turning his back, he walked away.
She watched his retreating figure grow distant, then shut her eyes tightly.
Not even laughter came anymore.
***
“Your Grace, it’s Calis.”
“Enter.”
The door opened, and Calis froze for a moment.
Dante emerged from the bath in a robe, droplets falling from his damp hair.
“…Should I come back later?”
“Just start.”
“Yes, sir!”
Calis snapped to attention, notebook in hand, though his eyes kept darting toward the duke on the sofa.
The black velvet robe rustled softly against his broad frame.
Golden hair, wet and shining, caught the morning light streaming through the windows.
Calis nearly gawked.
Like a painting of some divine figure.
No wonder noble ladies showered the duke with praise.
Snapping back to his senses as Dante set down his glass of water, Calis hurried to begin.
“This morning, the telegraph office—”
“Before that.”
“Sir?”
Interrupted, Calis whipped out his pen, ready to take notes.
“From now on, have all workers and staff use the main gate, not the rear.”
“…The main gate, sir? For how long?”
Until now, laborers and staff had always entered through the back, since the employee entrance was blocked by construction.
Dante tapped his finger idly against the glass, answering lazily.
“From now on, always. No one uses the back gate but me. Make it clear.”
“A-ah, yes, understood!”
Though puzzled by the sudden order, Calis nodded.
Whatever the reason, the duke must have had one.
Pushing aside his questions, he vowed to remind the staff thoroughly, then continued the briefing.
