3
Evelyn
Opening the wardrobe proves to be easier said than done as I stare at the panel for several minutes. Running my fingertips along the edges, I feel for some button or notch but find nothing.
I step back, frowning at the seemingly impenetrable wall. I’m certain this is where Dante got my shirt from last time.
A throat clears behind me.
“What are you doing?”
Startled, I cling to my towel for dear life as I spin around to find Dante leaning against the archway, arms folded over his chest as he watches me.
How did I not hear him come in?
“I-I need a fresh set of clothes.”
“Hmm.”
He pushes away from the doorway and crosses over to the panel as I step back to give him space. I watch as he effortlessly places his fingertips against the panel and it slides open at his touch.
IswearI tried to do that, but the panel wouldn’t budge for me.
He starts to reach for one of the shirts hanging inside, but stops and turns his head toward the door.
“I’ll be right back.”
He leaves the room and I listen for the click of the door shutting behind him before I turn my attention back to the clothes. I run a hand over the black shirts, pausing as my eyes catch on a bit of white deeper inside the closet.
Frowning, I push aside the black shirts to get a better view. A single white button-down shirt hangs in the furthest reaches of the closet.
Reaching for it, I pull it out for a better look.
The fabric is soft, though a bit thicker than all the others, the tailoring and fit appear to be far more intricate as well. Even the buttons are unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
Taking it off the hanger, I hold up to myself as I turn to look in the mirror. It may not be a dress, but it’ll have to do for now.
I quickly slip the shirt on, buttoning it up until there’s just a hint of my chest and neck still showing, before rolling up the sleeves. Turning back to the closet, I grab a fresh pair of men’s underwear and pull them up under the shirt and over my hips. Sighing at my reflection, I twist my wet hair up in the towel and make my way back out to the main bedroom.
I’m halfway to the giant bed when I hear a key turn in the lock and spin around to watch as Dante re-enters the room.
He immediately freezes, his hand still on the doorknob as his eyes fix on me, and I swear my heart stops beating altogether. I swear it’s all of a second that passes, but it must be longer because the next thing I know Dante has closed the distance between us.
He towers over me, his icy blue eyes now a deep red as he glares down at me from above.
“Where did you find this?” he asks, pinching some of the shirt’s fabric between his fingers.
“I-in your closet,” I stammer, “behind all of the black shirts.”
His eyes narrow as he continues to stare at me, his jaw working as if he’s trying to keep himself from lashing out at me.
“Take it off. Now,” he finally orders through gritted teeth, the tone of his voice cutting me to the quick.
I don’t waste any time moving to unbutton the shirt, but my hands are shaking too much to be of any use.
“I-I’m sorry,” I whisper, as my fingers slip and the buttons remain in place.
I glance up at Dante through my eyelashes, his nostrils flaring and lips pressing together as he exhales slowly. He reaches out to move my hands aside before taking the buttons in his own fingers.