He Chose Another Heir Now He Wants Me Back Chapter 52
I thought of that winter night in Paris.
The heat had gone out in my apartment, and snow was blowing in through the gaps in the window frame. Wrapped in a blanket, I flipped through my contacts. The only number I could bring myself to call was Dante’s.
It rang twice before he answered.
“Dante.”
“I’m here.”
“I’m cold.”
There was a short silence on the other end of the line.
“Wait for me.”
An hour later, he knocked on my door, a space heater in his arms. Snow covered his black coat, and the heater wasn’t even the right plug type—he’d had to find an adapter at a corner store at the last minute.
Now, I reached up and touched the gardenia at my collar.
“Dante.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not cold anymore.”
He froze for a second, then smiled.