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Just One Last Dance Novel Cover

Just One Last Dance

Elara Thorne believed she finally broke her streak of ninety-nine rejections when she married Lysander, a stoic mafia godfather who seemingly valued her constant talking. However, their marriage is defined by his strict ten-word limit until a chaotic incident at a bar changes everything. After Elara saves a stranger from a thug, a disheveled Lysander arrives at the station, breaking his silence with an emotional outburst. Realizing his restraint was a choice, Elara must face the reality of their bond.
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Chapter 3

I shot back, my voice trembling with rage: “‌On what grounds do you think it's me?‌ The fact is she stole the painting from my sister. She deserved to be caught.”

Lysander took a deep breath, forcing his temper down. He did his utmost to remain calm, though his eyes remained cold, “Don’t get excited.”

He pressed his weight down on me. I was completely shackled beneath him, unable to move an inch.

“Let me go!” I screamed.

Lysander held me tighter, his grip like iron. He enunciated every word with chilling clarity, “Seraphina, you just need to go to the police station and admit that you gave her that painting.”

Fury surged through me at his audacious request. Without the slightest hesitation, I sank my teeth into his neck, tearing into his flesh with all my might!

Lysander hissed sharply in pain. Even as blue veins bulged on his neck, he refused to let go. His resolve only hardened, “Seraphina, you absolutely have to go.”

“What if I say no? ‌My sister passed away, but Elara was shameless enough to steal from a dead person.” I glared at him menacingly, “Over my dead body I'll go.”

Lysander twitched his brows and fell into a long, heavy silence. After a while, he exhaled slowly, “Seraphina, don’t push me too far.”

He sighed, his tone both firm and filled with pity. “I know you won’t bring yourself to die. It hasn't been easy for us to get here. ‌How could you even leave me.‌ Stop fussing! Let’s go to the police station, shall we?”

I froze, snapping my head up to look at him in utter disbelief.

He clearly knew...how much I love him. He knew better than anyone else, yet he weaponized my love against me. He was twisting the knife in my heart, leaving me to bleed out while he stood there unscathed. I tried desperately to stay calm.

I closed my eyes and forced a soft, broken smile, “Yes, I'm not going to commit suicide. But, I’m not for you but to leave you and start my life over again.”

Lysander sighed with relief, misunderstanding my words entirely, “Now we can go…”

As he loosened his grip, I seized the chance to kick his groin hard, finally breaking free from his embrace.

I looked straight at him and carefully enunciated: “But I won’t go either.”

Lysander turned pale and trembled slightly. He nearly lost his balance from the intense pain. His anger could no longer be contained, “Seraphina, you’ve gone too far.”

He closed eyes and took a deep breath to suppress his anger. But, it was futile. Lysander clenched his hands tightly into fists, the blue veins standing out on the backs of his hands.

“Lock Seraphina away.” he commanded coldly.

He turned around and strode toward the door, throwing one last order over his shoulder, “Tell me when you’re willing to say yes.”

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