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And stopped in my tracks.
Dante stood near the stairs like he had just come to the top. He tilted his head to one side, a small smile breaking across his lips as his eyes took me in.
I hadn’t seen him since that afternoon. Gino stayed with me day and night only leaving to get food and whatever else I asked for, but he was never gone. I found Gino in the kitchen most mornings, coffee already made, several guns spread out on the table. He’d clean them meticulously, oiling their mechanisms until they shimmered in the incandescent bulbs.
“I was hoping I’d run into you,” Dante said.
“Where have you been?” I asked. The question came out angrier than I’d intended, but I couldn’t help it. Anger flared through me, anger at being left behind, anger at being locked up.
He shrugged and leaned against the wall. “Been preparing for war, little Aida.”
“So what? You should’ve come seen me sooner.” I took a step closer, my heart racing. I wanted to tell him how worried I’ve been, how I kept dreaming about him dying and letting me fall into some black abyss. But I kept my mouth shut.
“Interesting. Didn’t know you wanted to see me.” He took a step closer and I took a step back. I was suddenly very aware that I was in nothing but a towel. “Come here.”
“No.” I grabbed the edge of my towel with my right hand. “Just… let me through.”
He kept coming. I backed up until I ran into the wall. He stopped a couple of feet away from me, looming tall. He wore his usual clothes, tight white shirt, perfectly fitted bespoke pants, though the jacket was left downstairs, and his sleeves were rolled to the elbow. He cocked his head and ran a hand through his hair.
“You want me to come see you, then you’re telling me to get away. You’re sending mixed messages, Aida.”
I glared at him. “I’m a little vulnerable right now.”
“I know.” He reached out and tilted my chin toward him. I clenched my jaw but didn’t move. “I like it.”
“I bet you do,” I said, staring into his eyes.
He held my gaze for a long moment, not speaking. I could still remember the look on his face that day after we got back as the doctor stitched him up. There was no pain, not anguish, only pure rage, rage so hot and deep that I thought he might start breaking things. He scared me, and I couldn’t pretend like I wasn’t worried with him standing so near, his body looming over mine.
“I’ve been avoiding you,” he said, his voice low and soft. “I’ll admit it.”
“Why?” I asked despite myself.
“I couldn’t look at you.” He clenched his jaw. “I kept thinking about… your body on the floor of the car. About the bullets and the blood.”
I bit my lip and held tighter to the towel. “My ears stopped ringing yesterday,” I said.
He smiled. “That’s a good sign.”
“Yeah?”
“Probably won’t be any hearing damage. Might even handle it better next time.”
I laughed a little but my laugh faded into nothing. “There won’t be a next time,” I said.
His smile faded away as well. “There might be. You’re with me now, Aida. There might be a next time.”
“Dante.”
He reached up and gripped my hair. The movement was sudden, fast. I didn’t have time to pull back or to get away. He grabbed my hair and pulled it, and I let out a soft gasp. I clutched at my towel with my right hand and put my left one on his chest. I could feel his heart racing and I was shocked at the intensity in his eyes.
“I fucked up,” he growled. “I almost got you hurt. I won’t let that happen again.”
“Dante,” I said again.
“Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. It wasn’t your fault. I was the one that wanted to get out of the house.”
He flinched like I’d struck him. “Don’t try to take the blame, little Aida. You didn’t know any better, but I did.”
“If you want to blame yourself, go ahead. But you won’t get any pity from me.”
He leaned closer, his nostrils flaring. “You think I want your pity?”
“I don’t know what else you want from me.”
“I want you,” he growled, tightening his grip in my hair.
“I know.” I said it through clenched teeth as he pulled my head back. “And you can force me into whatever you want right now if that’s all you need.”
His grip relaxed a fraction as his lips came toward mine. But he moved past my mouth and whispered in my ear instead. “When I have you, Aida, you’re going to come to me first. On your hands and knees.”
He released my hair. I took in a sharp breath and glared at him as he moved away. I rubbed my head with my left hand and he paced down the hall like a pent-up tiger, all rage and muscle and power. He turned back and looked at me, arms crossed over his chest.
