The rain poured heavily outside as you slammed the door shut behind you, shaking off the water from your coat. You were already on edge, and the sight of Dante lounging casually on your couch, as if he owned the place, only made it worse.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you snapped, dropping your bag on the floor.

Dante didn’t even flinch. He just gave you that infuriating grin that made your blood boil and your heart race at the same time. “Waiting for you, obviously,” he replied, his voice laced with mockery. “Took you long enough.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the heat that rushed to your face. “Well, now that I’m here, you can leave.”

He pushed himself off the couch, taking a step towards you. His presence was overwhelming, filling the small room with his smug arrogance. “You sure about that?” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “I thought we had… unfinished business.”

You hated how your body responded to him, how every fiber of your being screamed at you to push him away, but instead, you found yourself stepping closer, your breath catching in your throat.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Dante,” you spat, even as your fingers twitched with the urge to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer.

He chuckled, dark and low. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t need to. You’re already doing that for me.” His hand reached out, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine.