The Forgotten Sister - 27 | Dates - Wattpad

The Forgotten Sister

by YourTemptationx

The Forgotten Sister

Table of contents

YOU ARE READING

The Forgotten Sister

Romance

I fell in love with Dante Moretti, never knowing he was once engaged to my older sister, Celeste Hart.
It was the kind of secret that changed everything.

Dante's POV  
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New York pulses around us and for the past few weeks, it's been ours.  
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Mine and Lia's.  
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After her graduation from Columbia, we stayed together for weeks. I delayed my return to Sicily because I wasn't ready to leave her yet, and because I wanted to savor every moment with her. To build something real with her and to prove that I'm worthy of her.  
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My penthouse on the Upper East Side, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and views of the skyline, has become our haven.... But we're not hiding from the world.  
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We're out there too, exploring the city, falling deeper into each other with every day that passes as I'm completely hooked on her. On her laughter, her gray eyes and the way she makes me want more.  
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The media is already talking, the tabloids whispering about Dante Moretti's new woman, their photos catching us hand in hand but they don't know her name yet.  
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They don't know she's Lia Hart.  
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My Gattina.  
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The journalist who saw me when I was too blind to see myself.  
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Our first date was in Brooklyn, her territory as she made sure I saw it through her eyes.  
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She wore a yellow sundress, bright like the summer sun, her dark blonde hair falling loose around her shoulders, her ring visible as she pulled me through the streets of Williamsburg.  
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"You've never had a real bagel?" she teased, her voice full of amusement as she dragged me into a tiny cafe hidden between the buildings.  
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We ate bagels covered in cream cheese, sitting on a park bench with the city moving around us. Her thigh pressed against mine, crumbs caught at the corner of her lips as I brushed them away with my thumb without even thinking.  
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Then she took me to an old bookstore tucked away on a quiet street. She pulled a thin poetry book from the shelf, written by Pablo Neruda, running her fingers over the faded cover before opening it.  
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She looked down at the page and started reading, her voice soft enough that everything else around us seemed to fade.  
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"We shall always be alone," she read, her eyes moving across the words, "we shall always be you and I alone on earth to start our life."  
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When she finished, she didn't say anything. She just looked up at me, holding my gaze for a moment, the old book still open between her hands.  
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Gosh... She's not like anyone I've ever met before.  
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I wanted to fuck her right there, between those shelves but instead I kissed her slowly while the sound she made against my lips nearly undid me.  
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We ended the night in a dive bar. She laughed every time I lost at pool before her hips moved to some song playing from the jukebox, and somewhere between her laughter and the way she looked at me, I knew.  
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She wasn't just a random fling.  
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She was mine.  
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Manhattan was next, the city moving around us as we wandered through it together.  
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She brought me to the High Line, an elevated park above the streets, flowers spilling over old tracks and the Hudson River shining below. She wore jeans and a white blouse, her hand in mine as she pointed out street art and little things that caught her attention.  
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She was always excited about everything while I found myself watching her more than the city.  
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"You're too quiet," she said, nudging me.  
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