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When I start moving again, I drive us both to the edge of insanity, and we come together, hard, our voices mingling as we cry out in release. And when I finally collapse on top of her, I do it knowing I gave her everything I’m able to just now.
I also know it’s not enough. She deserves so much more.
Chapter Eleven
Samantha
Our last week together almost feels like a frenzy of desperation, of me needing to get as much of him as I can. Our sex life, which was already active, becomes almost non-stop, and I take every bit of Dante I can get. As the days tick by, I feel dread settling into my stomach.
How am I going to exist after Dante?
I push the thought away, over and over again, because it’s a pointless question. I’m going to exist because I have to, because he made this second chance possible and I’m going to make the most of it.
It’s our last night together, and we spend it the way we began this whole thing: with me escorting him to an event. His assistant, Susan, brought my gown earlier, and it hangs in my closet, gold silk shimmering in the emptiness.
All of my other clothes have been packed away, shipped off to my apartment.
At midnight, this is over. The contract ends, the money is released into my account. Done.
The emptiness around me matches my mood. I feel lost, like I don’t know what’s real and what’s not, and I don’t know where I fit into the world anymore. How am I supposed to go back to my old life after Dante Knight? I’m not the same anymore. I’ve fallen in love with a man I never should have even met in the first place. I’ve given him everything, including my virginity. I’ve done things for him and let him do things to me that I never imagined doing. He knows my body better than anyone else ever will.
No, I’m not the same. The girl who walked into the Calla Club a month ago, dreading what her life was becoming and, in her innocence, still believing in happily ever after, is gone. She disappeared in a flurry of lust-filled nights in Dante’s arms, caught up in Dante’s world.
And now I’m supposed to go back to my life like none of it ever happened?
My stomach has been in knots since I fell asleep in Dante’s arms last night.
He hasn’t asked me to stay.
He hasn’t asked to see me after this is over.
I swear sometimes that I see something in his eyes that looks almost like love. Maybe affection, at the very least, but I’m fooling myself. If he cared, he would have at least hinted at the idea of our seeing one another after it’s all over.
I force myself to stop thinking about it. It is what it is, and I have one more evening on his arm. I’ll do my job. I’ll be the perfect arm candy for the handsome construction tycoon.
I’ll pick myself up and get over him.
I dress and do my hair and makeup. I pull my thick hair up into a chignon, keeping my makeup minimal and classic. My nails have already been painted a delicate gold that looks nearly perfect against my dress. As I pull on the gown, I glance at the dressing table. Specifically, at the yellow diamond choker and earrings there. Susan brought them and told me Dante insisted on me wearing them, something about how nice they’ll look against my skin.
I’ll miss Susan, I realize. I wonder if she knows this is the last day we’ll be dealing with one another.
Once I’m dressed, I slowly pick up the necklace and put it on. The large stone in the center of it rests in the hollow at the base of my throat. The earrings fall in delicate golden teardrops, hanging almost to my shoulders.
I look myself over.
I don’t know who this person is. She’s not me. She’s a role I’m playing, and at midnight, the curtains come down. I’m the girl who lives in jeans and bare feet, who buries her nose in romance novels or belts out the lyrics to musicals. I watch stupid movies, and my idea of a fun night is Netflix and delivery pizza.
One more night. I get my life back, plus some.
Why doesn’t this feel like a win then?
I take one more deep breath and walk out of my room. I grab my little gold bag on the way out. My wallet and keys are in it. I assume I’m going home at the end of the night.
When I step into the living room, Dante’s standing near the windows, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He rarely drinks, especially before an event, but I don’t ask. He turns to look at me, and there’s something in his eyes that makes my heart squeeze.
“You look stunning,” he murmurs.
“Thank you. So do you,” I tell him, and he gives me a small smile, dark eyes still locked to mine.
