Dante stood in the middle of the dimly lit room, his arms crossed, his jaw set in frustration. His fiery red coat flared slightly as he moved, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the woman before him. They had been arguing for what seemed like hours, each word exchanged sharper than the last, neither willing to back down. She stood her ground, her own temper flaring, her voice rising in defiance.

The tension in the air crackled, thick and suffocating. Her words were a blur to him, lost in the storm of his thoughts. He didn’t want to fight, but there was something about the way she challenged him that stirred an unexplainable frustration in his chest. She wasn’t just any woman. She was fierce, sharp, unapologetic in her beliefs—everything that Dante found both infuriating and captivating.

The distance between them was charged with raw energy. Her eyes, full of fire and defiance, locked onto his, daring him to keep going. But Dante, ever impulsive, suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere. There was something about her that made him want to silence the storm between them—something more than the usual playful banter or angry exchanges.

Without thinking, without hesitation, he stepped forward, his movements quick and decisive. She didn’t even have time to react before his lips were on hers, firm and commanding. It was a kiss that shut down all the noise between them—her words, her defiance, her anger—everything faded into the background.