He wants me.
Or at least he’s curious about me.
And it’s like a drug as I realize this. My blood pressure quickening as this man looks down at me, trying to make sense of what I am.
“I’ll find them out soon enough.” He steps away, creating distance between us as he walks back towards the elevator without looking back at me, “Be a good girl now, Ilaria. Put your pretty little mask in place and come back to your party.”
He stands, expecting me to follow as part of me yearns to lean over the roof again.
But instead I’m behind him breathing slowly to calm down my racing heart.
“Dante doesn’t know what he has.” He mutters, his eyes meeting mine on the mirrored doors. “Not a fucking clue.”
And just as I think he’s going to slam the stop button and do something about it the doors swing open and the noise of the party assaults us.
Francisco steps out leaving me with my thoughts racing.
I need another drink.
24DANTE
Where is Ilaria?
The party started over an hour ago and I haven’t seen her once in that I know she is here because my mother has remarked how beautiful she looks and how she is getting along so well with everyone.
Which I would love to see for myself.
“You didn’t warn me, Dante.” Francesco is by my side, looking at me like he has a secret and I hate the smug smirk on his face, “When you mentioned Ilaria was different I didn’t know you meant she’s sensational.”
And now this moron has met Ilaria without the safety net of me. This night couldn’t get any worse.
“You didn’t scare her?”
He looks into the glass of whiskey he’s drinking, taking a deep sip that worries me.
What the hell did I miss?
“If anything, she scared me.” His eyes are looking into mine and there’s something serious in his gaze that makes my palms sweat and my fist clench like it needs to connect with his face, “Do you realize what sort of woman you’re dealing with, Dante?”
I’d break his nose later because I finally spotted her, the white dress she is wearing clinging to her curves. The curl of her hair straightened, hanging down her back as she smiles at a waiter taking a glass of champagne.
Do I know what I’m dealing with?
A goddess. Helen of Troy. The woman was sent down from heaven to destroy men.
Ilaria.
My Ilaria.
I ignored Francesco as he gazes at her, looking away as if he can’t stand the sight of her and that worries me all over again.
What happened?
My body moves to where she is standing alone, wrapping an arm around her. She looks up like she’s surprised to see that it’s me touching her and I rearrange my plans for the night to torture Francesco and find out what he did to the top of my list; the idea of her expecting someone else to be beside her other than me triggers something primal in me.
Ilaria is mine.
Not only should she know that but no one should be foolish enough to even think otherwise.
“I’ve been looking for you, princess.”
Her lips press together at the nickname and her displeasure at the pet name I’ve been teasing her with since meeting, throws me off my game as I scramble to try and find solid ground to stand on with her.
What is happening?
“Not hard enough.”
Three words.
She is short with me. A small tantrum maybe because I didn’t give her enough attention? Or she is still annoyed with me from earlier.
If she hadn’t quit her job she would have gotten the flowers and an apology a lot sooner. That could have smoothed out some of the tension that she was obviously carrying.
Which reminded me…
“I sent flowers to-“
