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My brows went up. Usually it took more to get a rise out of the old lech. “Yeah, cause otherwise you’re all just a bunch of teddy bears.”
Bastian was outright laughing now.
“Can you two stop bickering and tell me what is going on in my room?” Tiffany butted in.
“That is not your room,” I said, not even looking at her. I was in a hell of a mood, every boom and crash I heard behind the door I guarded was only egging me on. “That is a guestroom that you insisted on staying in, even though no one wants you here.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Leo muttered, striding to the door. “I want to know what’s going on.”
I blocked him, moving to stand in front of the knob. “Dante is having a moment, and everyone needs to leave him the fuck alone.” I looked at Tiffany. “Especially you. Trust me when I say that you don’t want to get near him right now.”
“Me?” she pointed at herself, doing her usual innocent routine. “What did I do?”
I rolled my eyes. “What, you want me to make a list? Please. Save it. No one here believes your act. Take it somewhere else. Somewhere far away from Dante unless you feel like getting strangled today.”
As though to punctuate that, something very large broke with a screeching crash in the room behind me.
“Oh forget it,” Leo muttered, turning around. “That boy is as melodramatic as his mother, I swear.”
“That’s right, princess, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. You just go back to screwing the housekeeper!” I called to his retreating back.
He flipped me the bird and kept walking.
I enjoyed getting a low class rise out of his privileged ass, and so that made me smile.
“What happened?” Bastian asked me. “What can I do?”
“Nothing, he just needs some time.” I pointed at Tiffany. “And it would be best if he doesn’t set eyes on her.”
I could hear him breathing in there, hear his ragged panting breaths as he struggled with what I’d told him, and I actually started to feel guilty.
Such a little piece of information, but I knew I should have kept it to myself.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Tiffany huffed.
As though he’d heard her, Dante opened the door, or as I liked to call him when he got like this, Hulk Dante.
Except even the hulk wore shorts.
His entire naked, agitated body was vibrating with rage as he caught sight of Tiffany. “You,” he snarled, tossing a suitcase clean over my head and into the hallway.
It hit the floor and clothes went flying everywhere as it busted open on contact.
“What on earth?” she exclaimed.
“Get out!” he shouted at her.
Even I was a little wary to approach him when he was like this, but I did it, setting a firm hand in the middle of his chest.
“Dante, you need to calm down,” I said, trying my best to be a soothing presence, though soothing had never been a strength of mine.
I was much, much better at agitating.
The current Hulk Dante was a case in point.
He just kept staring at her, thick black hatred pouring out of his eyes in menacing, palpable waves. “Get the fuck out of here!” he shouted at her. “I don’t ever want to see your face again!”
She looked like she’d just been slapped. She swayed on her feet. “What? But, why Dante? What did I do now?”
