I slide across the sofa, away from his touch. “You’ve no idea how quickly I’ll get addicted to you.”
“Is that supposed to stop me?”
I hide my face behind a curtain of hair, searching for the right words to convey the chaos ruling my mind. “You said I haven’t listed a single flaw yet.”
“I’m sure you have some.” He drinks the last of his whiskey, setting the glass aside. “No one’s made up of only good qualities.”
Either the mojito, the atmosphere provided by the music, or Dante himself breaks a dam inside me. Words roll off my tongue of their own accord. “When I was a child, I had toys other kids could only dream about.” I fiddle with the hem of my dress, watching the fabric crease. “Then came the gadgets. Now it’s clothes, shoes, and jewelry. We spent our holidays in the most luxurious hotels. I took singing lessons, ballet, and horse riding. Whatever I wanted was mine because my parents tried to compensate for not loving me.”
“Every parent loves their child.”
I find the courage to look at him, and he holds my gaze, waiting for more. “Not every parent. I lacked warmth for so long that...” I scoff, shaking my head. “My first boyfriend wasn’t affectionate, but I took the scraps he offered with open arms. I used to hold so still whenever he hugged me. He always moved away first because I was too hungry for closeness to let go.”
That’s not normal.
I’mnot normal.
“Sam was next, then Chase. Both as cold and distant as Michael. And here we are. Now, it’s you. I want to believe I’m Switzerland, but I can’t trust you, Dante. There’s too much hatred between you and my father.”
Dante’s silent for what feels like an eternity. I get up to change the music. Slow, emotional songs aren’t doing me any good considering how much information escaped my lips. John Newman’s CD catches my attention when I stop in front of the shelf and I can’t resist.
Dante grabs my arm when I approach the couch, his touch urgent as he pulls me in, and grips my waist, sitting me on his lap. His warm mouth closes my parted lips with an eager, demanding kiss. I want to melt into him and bask in the unrestrained attention, but I jerk away when an unpleasant thought hijacks my confused mind.
“I don’t want your pity.”
He grips my jaw. “You’re talking back again.”
With a sigh, I link my hands around his neck and take the initiative, pressing my lips to his, dictating my own rhythm as I deepen the kiss. The slow, passionate battle raises the temperature around us by a few degrees. I’m not in control for long. I might be sitting astride him, but he takes over, dictating a lustful pace.
I want to say that giving me hope, then taking it away in a few days is vile, but I can’t reject the closeness. I abuse the protective bubble of his arms, praying it’ll never burst. This won’t last, but a moment of affection I’ve been denied all my life is worth the river that I’ll inevitably cry.
The sound of the alarm being disarmed brings me back to reality. I flinch to slide off Dante’s lap, but he holds me firmly in place, his strong hands on my hips.
“I’m here.” A tall man enters the living room, catching us in an intimate position.
I wiggle out of Dante’s embrace, my cheeks burning, eyes avoiding the guy who just walked in.
“You’re the most adorable little bug I ever saw,” Dante utters, eyeing my lips before he looks over his shoulder. “Rookie, this is Layla. You’re taking her home.”
“Sure, Boss.” If my presence at Dante’s side surprises him, he doesn’t let it show.
Dante holds my hand until I’m tucked in the back seat of Rookie’s Camaro. “Good night, Star,” his hot lips press against my forehead before he closes the door, moving over to the driver’s window.
“I’ll keep her safe, Boss,” Rookie says.
“Yes, you will. Make sure she gets inside before you leave. Call me when you’re done.”
CHAPTER SIX
Layla
Frank waits in the kitchen with a glass of neat vodka. He’s not alone. Jess sits beside him, painting her nails hot pink despite the clock showing two-thirty in the morning. I’ve had enough excitement for one night, but one look at Frank, and I know I’m not allowed to go upstairs before he tells me off. He’s too fixated on maintaining his image in front of Jess.
“Explain because I’m having a hard time understanding,” he says, drilling a hole in my face with a piercing, hateful stare. Nothing new. “Why are you suddenly willing to risk everything I worked for all my life?”
Translation: Why aren’t you listening to what I say? Follow the orders like everyone else.
I glance at Jess, who pretends she’s not listening, but this conversation will be relayed to her friends early in the morning. Her inquisitive nature means we have to watch what we say, even in our own house.