Page 209 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

Thankfully, today we’re visiting one of the townhouses selected by the real estate agent.

It’s the perfect opportunity to clear our minds and stop obsessing over our fears for at least a few hours.

The townhouse is simply incredible.

The ground floor is entirely devoted to living spaces: a massive sunlit living room, an elegant dining room, an enormous kitchen, and two guest suites for visiting friends.

The second floor is almost entirely occupied by an outrageously oversized master suite, along with three additional bedrooms, each with its own private bathroom.

The third and fourth floors were designed for staff: comfortable rooms, shared spaces, and a separate entrance accessible through an exterior staircase.

Enough to guarantee us complete privacy.

And that’s not even mentioning the landscaped garden, the heated pool, the sauna, or the rooftop terrace overlooking the city.

Throughout the entire tour, Dante keeps leaning close to my ear to describe, in perfectly obscene detail, everything he plans to christen in every single room.

The living room.

The walk-in shower.

The sauna.

The pool.

Even the staircase doesn’t escape him.

The real estate agent has the decency to stare fixedly at an imaginary point ahead of him to avoid smiling.

Meanwhile, I’m scarlet.

And Dante, the bastard, openly laughs at my expense.

Despite my protests, he signs almost immediately.

“This house is perfect,” he tells me as he closes the file. “Give me one good reason not to buy it.”

“It’s… it’s too much.”

He gestures calmly to the space around us.

“Look at this place. We’ll be happy here. I can already picture our children running everywhere.”

“Yes, but... have you seen the price?”

“I don’t care about the price.”

His gaze settles on me with that quiet intensity that disarms me every time.

“This is our life we’re talking about. I want to enjoy every moment with you. But... if you’ve changed your mind, if you decide it’s too soon for us to move in together, or if you simply don’t like this place, I’ll respect your decision.”

He doesn’t push.

He doesn’t insist.

What do I want?

I slowly turn in a circle, taking everything in. Then my gaze returns to Dante.