“Call me Morana, please,” she corrected him. “Was the room organized?” she asked, going on a limb. If Dante had sent the man to her room and Tristan’s place, then clearly he trusted him to an extent. And Dante had earned her trust, so by extension, she was going to treat Vin as one of the good ones.
“No,” he said, his eyes flickering to her before going straight ahead. “It was a mess. Things were not in place.”
This meant that aside from the evidence of her struggle, someone had trashed the room as well. But to what end? In rage or search of something?
Walking the sprawling lawns in broad daylight was such a vast contrast to running through it in the pitch black. The mansion loomed in the distance, as always, like a beast. There was activity around it, clean up from the party of the previous night perhaps. Morana turned her eyes towards Dante’s house instead, the place that had been her haven, her refuge in her time of need. The warmth in her heart expanding, she quickly climbed the steps and knocked on the door, aware of Vin standing back.
After about a minute, Dante opened the door, dressed in his staple dark suit and tie, his hair swept away from his gorgeous face, highlighting his beautiful bone structure. His dark eyes roved over her clad in Tristan’s clothes than hung on her, and crinkled in amusement.
Morana rolled her eyes and stepped into the house.
“Give us a few minutes,” Dante nodded to Vin. Vin inclined his head and walked off to the mansion.
Closing the door behind him, Dante pulled Morana into a light hug, holding her shoulders gently. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Chest tight, Morana wound her arms around his huge form tightly, inhaling the scent of his cologne. “Thank you for last night. It meant a lot to me.”
He pulled back, looking down at her seriously. “Last night should never have happened. But I’m glad you felt you could come here, Morana.”
Morana smiled, her lips trembling slightly and he gave her a squeeze, leading her to the living room. Taking her place back on that couch that she had claimed, she watched as Dante typed something on his phone and took a seat opposite her.
&
nbsp; Clasping his hands together loosely, his demeanor somber, he finally spoke. “Tristan and I talked last night about what happened. We’re going to take care of things on our end. You, in the meantime, need to get on to the software. All of this is way too closely timed for me to believe it’s coincidental.”
Morana nodded. “Agreed. I’ll be looking at stuff on my end, don’t worry. I have a few questions though.”
“Shoot.”
Morana pulled her phone out, opened her gallery, and clicked on the image of the unconscious assassin she had taken. Turning the screen over to him, she asked. “Do you know him?”
Dante glanced at the screen for a long minute before shaking his head. “Haven’t seen him before. Send me the picture though. I’ll check up on it.”
Picture sent, Morana brought up her next question. “Did you see the man talking to me last night?”
She saw Dante’s eyebrows hit the hairline. “What man?”
“He warned me about the assassination at the party last night,” Morana told him. “I didn’t see his face or even what he looked like.”
Dante was shaking his head even before she finished speaking. “No one could’ve entered the party without an invitation.”
“Not to rain on your parade but I did a few weeks ago,” Morana pointed out sheepishly.
Dante grinned. “You did. I’ll have a look at the cameras later. But be careful of this guy.”
Morana shrugged. “He’s had plenty of chances to kill me and he hasn’t. On the contrary, I think this is the crack I’ve been looking for and I’m willing to take a chance even if you or Tristan don’t like it. You’re big boys. Deal with it.”
Dante sighed, shaking his head. “I still don't like it. Take Vin. He is your security for now at least until whoever wants you dead is caught.”
Morana huffed. “That’ll be quite a few people. Oh, and do you mind arranging my stuff to be moved to Tristan’s place? I really don’t want to step back into that pit right now.”
Dante stood up, a small grin playing on his face. “You moved in quickly. Shouldn’t you wait a bit, see if this is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with?”
Morana picked up a cushion from beside her and chucked it at his head. Dante laughed, his face creasing in a way that would stop a hundred female hearts in its tracks. She could see why a young Amara had been infatuated with the man.
“I’m happy for you two,” he said, walking to the door. “Zia is at the mansion. I’ll ask her to get the stuff packed and moved here. You can take it back to Tristan’s with her.”
“Thank you, Dante,” Morana called out to his disappearing back.