The CEO's Disgraced Husband Is the Sea God's Commander

7

Ginevra let out a scream so sharp it echoed off the marble walls of the foyer. She stumbled backward, her heel catching on the edge of the rug, and nearly fell before catching herself on the console table.

"Dante!" Her voice came out cracked and wild. "What, how, you were, they told me you were dead!"

Dante stood in the doorway without moving. His eyes moved slowly from Ginevra's white face to the man trembling on the floor behind her. Luca had crawled backward on his hands until his spine was pressed flat against Ginevra's legs, using her body as a shield. His soaked pants clung to his thighs and a thin trail of liquid ran across the marble beneath him.

Dante's expression did not change. Not a flinch. Not a blink. He looked at the two of them the way someone looks at an overturned trash can on the street. Mild disgust and absolutely nothing else.

"Are you a human or a ghost?" Ginevra's voice trembled violently. Her hand gripped the edge of the table so hard her knuckles turned bone white.

Dante let out a laugh. It was dark, low, and completely hollow, the kind of sound that belongs to a man who has already made up his mind about everything.

"That is a fascinating question coming from you, Ginevra." He tilted his head slightly, his cold eyes pinning her in place. "You left me bleeding on a sinking yacht in the middle of a category three storm. You took the only working lifeboat. You promised to send a rescue team. And then you went to sleep." He paused, letting each word settle into the silence like a stone dropped into still water. "So tell me, did you ever once, even for a single second, actually think about saving me?"

Ginevra's mouth opened. Nothing came out. She tried again, her lips moving without sound, her hands shaking at her sides.

"I called the rescue team!" The words finally burst free, high and desperate. "I called them the moment we reached the hospital! I swear I did, Dante! It was just, things happened so fast, Luca's heart started acting up and I panicked, and by the time I remembered to follow up I had already, I did not mean to fall asleep, I was exhausted and I just, it was an accident!"

Every excuse tumbled out of her like loose change spilling from a torn pocket. Thin. Scattered. Worthless.

Dante watched her the entire time without any warmth at all. When she finally ran out of words, he walked past her, his shoulder nearly brushing hers, and reached for the light switch on the wall.

The foyer flooded with bright, harsh light. Every detail became painfully clear. The dried blood caked on Dante's temple. The salt stains streaking his ruined jacket. The raw, swollen gash above his left eye.

And on the floor behind Ginevra, Luca Ferrero sitting in his own mess, shaking like a wet dog.

"I got lucky." Dante's voice was flat, completely stripped of emotion. "The storm passed and I washed up on shore. That is all there is to it."

Ginevra stared at him. Her eyes traveled over the wound on his head, the torn fabric, the exhaustion carved into every line of his face. For one brief second, something flickered behind her expression. Something that might have been shame.

Then her phone rang.

She flinched hard and grabbed it from her pocket. Her fingers shook as she pressed it to her ear.

"Mrs. Moretti, this is Captain Ferrara from the maritime rescue unit." The voice on the other end was tired and flat. "We have completed our identification process. The body recovered from the water has been confirmed as a local fisherman, not your husband. Since he appears to be standing in your house right now based on your lack of urgency in returning our calls, I assume this matter is resolved."

The line went dead before she could respond.

Ginevra lowered the phone slowly. The color returned to her face in uneven patches. She looked at Dante, standing there in the bright light, very much alive and very much uninjured beyond the gash on his head.

And just like that, the guilt evaporated.

It left her face the way steam leaves a mirror. One second it was there and the next it was gone, replaced by something tight and resentful around her mouth.

"You did this on purpose." Her voice hardened back into the cold, clipped tone Dante knew so well. "You walked in here like some kind of horror movie villain just to scare us half to death. How could you be so incredibly petty, Dante? I forgot to call the rescue team back, fine, that was a mistake. But you are clearly standing here perfectly fine. You are not hurt. You are not dying. So what exactly is the problem?"

Dante stared at her. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, slow and bitter and completely empty of humor. It was the kind of smile that made people uncomfortable because there was nothing behind it except cold, settled certainty.

"Ginevra." Luca's voice rose weakly from the floor. He pressed both hands against his chest, his face twisted in exaggerated pain. "My heart. It is happening again. The shock was too much. I think I need to go back to the hospital."

Ginevra spun around immediately. The resentment on her face dissolved into urgent concern the instant her eyes landed on Luca. She crouched down beside him, pressing her palm against his forehead.

"Can you stand? Lean on me. I will get you to the car right now."

She hooked her arm under his and hauled him upright, bearing most of his weight as she guided him past Dante toward the front door. Luca kept his face buried against Ginevra's shoulder, but his eyes slid sideways toward Dante as they passed. Clear. Sharp. Perfectly healthy.

At the door, Ginevra turned back one last time. Her jaw was set tight and her eyes burned with open contempt.

"What is with that look on your face? This is all your fault, Dante. Luca is sick again because of your little stunt. Once he recovers, you had better apologize to him properly. Do you hear me?"

She did not wait for an answer. The door slammed shut behind them.

Dante stood alone in the bright foyer, listening to the car engine start and pull away into the night. The bitter smile still sat on his lips, but it had changed into something quieter now. Something final.

He looked down at the golden ring on his finger.

Then he closed his eyes.