Chapter 26

As Dante uttered his name in disbelief, the figure on the opposite side of the fountain closed the distance between them with terrifying speed. The morning sun, now fully illuminating the square, caught the gold in Rhys’s hair and cast his face into sharp relief. His expression was downright lethal. Even though this was the exact person Dante had been aching to see, a primitive instinct inside him wondered if he should bolt.

Could Rhys always look like that? It’s terrifying…

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

Before Dante could take a cautious step back, Rhys came to a dead halt right in front of him. He looked so enraged that it felt as if a natural disaster had just touched down. It was shocking that a face so delicate and elegant could warp into an expression so murderous. Confronted with a level of fury he had never witnessed during their entire relationship, Dante unconsciously squared his shoulders into a deeply deferential posture.

“…Hi, Rhys?”

He offered the greeting while tracking the other man’s micro-expressions with extreme caution. Yet, the sudden realization that they were standing face-to-face sent a wave of irrational joy blooming in his chest.

He’d assumed he wouldn’t see Rhys until he jumped through a dozen hurdles to buy a phone, but Rhys had tracked him down first. Did the coin thing actually work? At this rate, all he had to do was charm his way into sharing that hotel room. As Dante’s face inadvertently brightened with hope, Rhys caught the change in expression, roughly swept his hair back, and hissed under his breath.

“Hi? Did you seriously just say hi to me?”

Evidently, that had been the wrong answer. Dante hurriedly tried a different tactic.

“Then… good morning?”

At the cheerful morning greeting, Dante could have sworn Rhys’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head. Unable to withstand the lethal glare radiating from those gray-blue eyes, Dante dropped his gaze. It was baffling. Why was he this furious?

“What the hell are you trying to pull?” Rhys demanded, dropping his volume. Somehow, the low, controlled pitch was infinitely more terrifying than a shout.

“Could you… at least tell me what I did wrong before you chew me out?”

Rhys’s gaze grew even sharper. Dante felt entirely slighted, but he prioritized survival and apologized anyway. “I’m sorry, beautiful.”

“Did you honestly think that if you stood here looking pathetic, I’d just take you back?” Rhys snapped. “You didn’t even show up at the hotel to drop off your luggage, you completely ignored my calls—is all of this part of some brilliant game to you?”

Ah. So he did call. Even in the middle of getting reprimanded, the realization that Rhys had actually tried to reach him brought a stupid, unstoppable grin to Dante’s face. Catching the look, Rhys muttered a low string of syllables that sounded suspiciously like a curse word. Dante elected to pretend he hadn’t heard it.

Hearing profanity drop from his beautiful Rhys’s mouth was deeply jarring. Had an evil spirit possessed him during the two hours they’d been separated? If things got worse, Dante considered dragging him to the Vatican; he was a firm believer in the legitimacy of Roman Catholic exorcisms.

“Wipe that smile off your face. I didn’t say it to make you happy.”

“Sorry. Right. I’m stopping. I was wrong.”

Dante nodded quickly, forcing his facial muscles into a neutral expression. Yet, even with his face blanked out, he couldn’t suppress the hope bubbling up inside. He had fully intended to try every trick in the book not to waste their time in Rome, but realistically, he’d expected it to be an uphill battle to get Rhys to share a roof with him.

Rhys had been so averse to sitting near him that he’d swapped seats on the plane, so Dante had anticipated that any offer to share the room would be flatly rejected. He’d even secretly resolved to find out where Rhys ended up staying and follow him there. Was that a little stalkerish? Whatever.

But based on Rhys’s current rant, it sounded like he had actually gone to their original hotel and waited for him. Recognizing a certified miracle when he saw one, Dante decided then and there to become a superstitious man. The Trevi Fountain had clearly delivered on his penny.

This was his chance; he couldn’t let it slip away. He needed to gently probe the situation. Why would you wait at the hotel for me when you’ve been avoiding me like the plague? Hmm? Rhys, you actually want me to chase you, don’t you? You’re scratching at me like a temperamental kitten, but you want me to take it.

Perhaps because finding Rhys in this sprawling city without a phone felt so surreal, Dante’s internal monologue veered wildly into pure optimism.

“So… were you actually planning to share the hotel room with me, Rhys?”

“Me? Why on earth would I share a room with you?” Rhys countered instantly.

The razor-sharp defensiveness felt like a classic cover-up for being caught, so Dante pressed his advantage. “Well, from what you just said, it sounded like you were waiting around for me in the lobby… so I was just wondering.”

To keep Rhys from snapping, Dante offered a tiny, barely perceptible smile. At the sight of it, Rhys’s gray-blue eyes iced over entirely.

“The reservation is under my name,” Rhys stated icily.

“Huh? No, it isn’t. I paid for it.”

“You reserved it under my account name and paid with your credit card. Do you have amnesia?”

Ah. Come to think of it, that was their standard operating procedure. Whenever they traveled, they used Rhys’s account on booking apps to secure rooms and rentals, while Dante provided the plastic. It was a compromise born of Dante’s rigid insistence that he handle all the financial expenses himself, and they had evidently done the same for this trip.

“I only intended to assist you with the check-in process in case there was a language barrier or an issue. Do not get the wrong idea.”

Rhys’s voice cut sharper than a winter gale. Man, this guy is impossible. They say beautiful people are high-maintenance, and that aphorism must have been invented specifically for Rhys.

Once Rhys slammed the door to his heart, he refused to give Dante an inch. Yet despite the fierce rejection, the mere fact that he hadn’t completely washed his hands of Dante felt like proof of lingering attachment. Still, hearing such cold remarks made Dante’s certainty waver.

It felt like trying to swim directly into a relentless undertow. The ocean was infinitely more volatile than a placid lake; unpredictable currents could violently sweep you in the exact opposite direction of your destination. Rhys was that unpredictable sea.

As the faint smile drained from Dante’s face, the frost in Rhys’s eyes thawed slightly. He told me not to smile, so he must genuinely loathe seeing me look happy. Regretting his miscalculation, Dante swallowed a heavy sigh.

Still, I can handle this much. Rhys put up with my baggage for years. It would be pathetic to give up after a single day. Though his spirits were flagging, a quiet comfort settled over him: Rhys had come back to find him so he wouldn’t be stranded. Because the truth was, Dante Bellini absolutely despised being left alone.

Clearing all traces of amusement from his expression, Dante ran a hand through his hair, letting his dark brows knit together in a look of genuine contrition.

“I’m really sorry I kept you waiting. My phone got stolen at the airport, so… I didn’t have access to the hotel address. I couldn’t figure out how to get there.”

Rhys, who had been glaring as if dare-matching him to produce an excuse, faltered. His harsh scowl cracked, replaced by sheer disbelief. “Your phone was what?”

“I think someone swiped it while I was sorting through my suitcase for a few minutes. Pretty one, you need to watch out for pickpockets around here. I thought they only targeted tight crowds, but apparently they’re everywhere.”

Listening to this, Rhys raised a hand to cover his eyes. Exhaling a long, exasperated sigh as if he were on the verge of losing his sanity, he muttered under his breath, “Who is giving advice to whom right now…?”

Rubbing his face hard with his palm to regain composure, Rhys looked back at Dante with eyes that had aged five years in a matter of seconds. “Your passport and wallet?”

“They’re fine. I kept them safe in my inside jacket pocket.”

Dante reached into his coat to pull them out, eager to reassure his beautiful partner. If Rhys hadn’t pinned him with a warning glare and shook his head, Dante would have displayed them like a proud schoolboy right then and there.

“Don’t just whip out your identification and cash in a public square,” Rhys scolded. “How do you expect to survive Rome with that kind of situational awareness?”

Dante paused. An idea flashed through his mind—one that would undoubtedly get him yelled at again. But considering he was already deep in the doghouse, he figured he had nothing to lose.

“Then… will you navigate it with me?”

The elegant lips that had been rattling off reprimands instantly clamped shut. Dante watched him with wide, expectant eyes, waiting out the sudden silence. Rhys locked eyes with Dante’s golden-tawny gaze before turning his face away.

“…Would you, if you were in my shoes?”

After the briefest pause, all the sharp, fiery emotion from moments ago evaporated from his voice. Hearing that cold, detached clarity made Dante feel an immense distance yawn between them. He hated that tone. It was the same quiet voice from the airport shuttle—the sound of someone who had completely checked out emotionally. He much preferred Rhys’s anger. If Rhys wasn’t angry, it meant he didn’t care at all. Being yelled at was a thousand times better than this.

“You won’t like my answer. I want to be with you. I felt like I was physically withering away because I couldn’t see your face these past few weeks… so yes, obviously I want to go around with you.”

“Enough. I don’t want to hear it.”

Rhys ruthlessly cut off the confession. Dante had poured every ounce of his raw sincerity into those words, praying a fraction of it would break through, but Rhys wasn’t having it.

“I’ll hail a cab to take you to the hotel, and you can handle things on your own from there,” Rhys said, completely detached, as if merely ticking off a chore. “Your name is listed on the booking, so check-in won’t be an issue. Isn’t that what you always used to say? That you’re the older one, so I never need to worry?”

Watching Rhys pull out his phone to open a ride-sharing app, Dante’s mouth went dry. What could he possibly say to make him stay? His heart pounded violently against his ribs, paralyzing his thoughts. Within seconds, a driver was assigned; the vehicle information and a map popped up on the screen. The ETA read less than one minute.

In sixty seconds, Rhys would walk away, leaving Dante completely stranded. Isolated in a sprawling, ancient city, having driven off the only person he actually wanted to be here with.

The sheer weight of that reality struck him, turning his mind completely blank. His grip on the suitcase handle tightened until his knuckles turned white. He tried to draw a breath, but it felt as if no oxygen was entering his lungs; his chest constricted violently. It was a suffocating, panic-inducing sensation, identical to the terror of swallowing seawater and choking.

I don’t want to be alone, Rhys. You were never the one who left me behind. You were the one who always found me when I was in the dark. Just like the day we met.

Rhys kept his eyes glued to the screen. As the little digital car icon crept closer on the map, the color slowly drained from Dante’s face, leaving him deathly pale. His fingertips went numb and ice-cold. Finally, the screen flashed with a notification: Your ride has arrived.

“No.”

A single, primal directive occupied his mind: Don’t let him leave.

Reaching out, Dante grabbed Rhys’s forearm—the one holding the device—and anchored him. “Stay with me, Rhys. Please. I… I don’t want to be alone.”

Rhys glanced down at the tight grip on his arm, his brow furrowing. He made a sharp, dismissive movement to pry Dante’s fingers off, but the moment his skin brushed against the absolute ice of Dante’s hand, he froze and looked up. Dante didn’t even register the faint widening of Rhys’s eyes as he pleaded through bloodless lips.

“You don’t have to spend the day with me. Please, can we just share the hotel suite? I’ll sleep on the couch. If there isn’t a couch, I’ll take the floor. Just…”

He despised exposing his vulnerability like this, but his brain couldn’t construct a clever lie or a logical excuse. All he could do was vomit up the raw terror swirling inside him.

“I don’t want to be alone, Rhys… please.”