Cato stood as tall as Dante, but his frame was leaner, and his white hair cascaded down his back. He studied the two of them before offering a nod, “I’ll give you some privacy.”

Dante’s cold eyes, as icy as the winter winds that blew across Ardalan, were focused intently on the woman before him. She stood before him, her petite stature immediately capturing his attention. Her long brown hair was pulled up into a neat bun that highlighted the slender column of her neck. Her purple dress fit her body like an embrace, each pleat and tuck lovingly placed to accentuate her curves and reveal just enough for Dante’s imagination to run wild.

“Cato,” Dante said, his voice sharp and urgent. Cato stopped abruptly, just inches away from the door handle. He slowly turned around and looked at Dante, surprise etched on his face. “We need a chaperone,” Dante continued, his gaze intense. “We can’t be left alone.”

Cato raised an eyebrow at his friend’s words, but didn’t protest. He stayed in the corner of the room, hovering like a silent sentinel. He was well aware that Dante was making the formal request out of decorum rather than genuine concern for keeping things proper.

Maia’s gaze dropped to the floor, her dark lashes casting a shadow against her cheeks as she bit her bottom lip. Her deep brown eyes pleaded with Dante, a vulnerability he wasn’t accustomed to seeing. “What I have to say may be a bit embarrassing,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Really?” Dante’s lips curled into a half-smile, a rare sight only those closest to him ever witnessed. It was a glimpse of warmth beneath his usually frosty exterior. He crossed his arms over his broad chest with a challenging gleam in his eyes as he directed his gaze to Cato, “Now you definitely have to stay,” he joked, his voice light and teasing.

Cato involuntarily let out a deep, heavy sigh as his furrowed brows and tightly crossed arms communicated his frustration.

Maia whirled around and found Dante’s silver eyes imploring her. Her voice rose sharply, filling the room with a blistering heat. “Have you no shame?” she asked, her chest heaved with an uneven rhythm, her eyes widening until they filled her entire face like dark pools illuminating her fury. Every part of her seemed to scream as she continued, “How dare you say that I’m selfish or prideful!” Her brown-eyed gaze burned into him, as if to challenge him to disagree.

“Whoa!” Cato quickly exclaimed, his eyes widening with shock. In this society, women were expected to maintain a certain outward appearance; they had to be timid and quiet, never openly expressing their thoughts or opinions, especially to high-ranking men such as Dante. They were seen as delicate flowers, beautiful yet fragile, meant to be admired from afar.

Dante remained silent, his icy gaze fixed on Maia with a mixture of shock and fascination. Her face was aflame with anger, and her jaw set in determination as she fought against the pressure of what society expected her to do. He slowly scanned her from head to toe, and an amused, knowing smile spread across his lips. His voice was low and tinged with a hint of danger, making the hairs on Maia’s arms stand up. “Listening to my conversation? How bold.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to if the door wasn’t cracked open,” Maia shot back, her chin lifted in defiance. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, a cocktail of frustration, indignation, and something more potent—a desire to prove herself to this man who seemed determined to underestimate her.

Dante’s gaze was like a physical force, seeming to pin Maia in place as it relentlessly searched her face. He stepped closer, his leather boots creaking in the otherwise silent chamber. As Maia gazed up at the mountain of a man before her, she felt the electrifying tingle of attraction ripple through her as she inhaled his aroma, a mix of leather and sweat from the training yard he had just returned from.

His eyes, usually cold and calculating, now burned with an intensity that she couldn’t quite decipher. He continued to step closer, looming over her petite frame with a hint of arrogance in his smirk. “You say you’re not prideful,” he drawled in a low voice full of amusement, “yet here you stand, angry at the truth.”

“Truth?” The disbelief in her voice was unmistakable, and her fists tightened involuntarily as she tried to channel the anger elsewhere. Tears of fury shone in her eyes but did not fall, a true testament to her strength. “I’m not angry for myself. To say those things about me, you insult my father!” Her words echoed around the small room, reverberating off every wall until they filled the space like a physical presence. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.

“I would like to believe that my father raised me to be the opposite of those things you listed,” she continued, her voice softer now but no less determined. She squared her shoulders, standing tall and looking Dante straight in the eyes despite their height difference. “And I refuse to stand here and let you tarnish his legacy, which is me.”

She met his gaze, and for a heartbeat, she saw something unreadable in his eyes. Was it surprise? Admiration? She didn’t know, but she pressed on. Her anger surged through her veins like liquid fire, giving her confidence. “I think the one here who is truly conceited is you, Commander Cassius,” she declared.

The moment she said his name, the realization of who he was hit her like a wave, and the air seemed to darken with the presence of the Grand Cross of Ardalan. She hadn’t met him before, but his reputation preceded him; his looming figure standing tall and unyielding in front of her sent shivers down her spine. Her anger slowly started to dissipate. “However,” she demanded, trying to keep her voice level, “I must apologize for my outburst.” Her eyes desperately sought out any reaction in his face, and finally finding none, a deep sigh escaped her lips as she conceded, “I’m sorry.”

Dante’s low, rumbling laughter filled the shadows of the old study. A glimmer of humor sparkled in his eyes as he stepped back and steadied himself against the desk. The worn oak had been polished so many times that it glowed in the candlelight. His expression changed to one of playful disbelief as he crooked an eyebrow and asked, “Now you’re sorry?”

Her cheeks flushed a deep scarlet, the fire in her eyes not quite extinguished. She turned to Cato, who stood at attention like a statue and nodded politely. “I’m sorry to you, General Ivo,” she said, her voice low but firm. Her gaze snapped back to Dante, a challenge apparent in her brown eyes. “As for you, Commander Cassius...I meant every word.”

Dante’s typically stern expression softened as he watched her, his arms crossing over his broad chest. Irritation mixed with respect as he took in her unwavering stance. He quickly hardened his gaze and tried to school his features back into their familiar stoic facade as he spoke in a low, controlled voice that carried authority. “Very well then,” he said finally, “but remember this. I do not make decisions based on the whims of others.”

Her nostrils flared, “Fantastic,” she spat, with heavy sarcasm dripping from her lips. She stepped closer as if to deliver a parting blow, and the atmosphere in the room grew thicker with each word that left her mouth. “I’m so relieved to hear you plan to refuse the marriage, so I don’t have to tell you to do it myself,” she sneered. “Have a great night,” she said with a huff as she stomped away, leaving a palpable wave of frustration rippling through the air.

The door slammed behind her, reverberating through the chamber like a peal of thunder. Dante stood there, mouth slightly agape, as if time had stopped. After a few seconds of silence, Cato suddenly let out a loud guffaw. “She was right. That was embarrassing…for you!”

Dante’s piercing gaze seemed to sear through his general, “What the hell was that? No wonder she isn’t married yet.”

“Careful, Commander,” Cato said, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “It almost sounds like you’re intrigued.”

“Hardly,” Dante growled, but even as he spoke the words, he felt an unsettling sensation gnawing at his insides. He couldn’t deny the way she’d stood up to him without fear, the fierce determination in her eyes. It was a rare quality, especially among the women of the court, and it both captivated and infuriated him.