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But they hadn’t given Dario what he wanted. And they still didn’t realize what this was really about.
Dario thought of the file he had received on Bell, the court-protected seal worthless when the right cash hit the right hands. He’d opened it without the proper reverence, unprepared for the horrible details that had covered those pages. Details that had never had a resolution. That beautiful girl, damaged by these monsters. That beautiful girl, ignored and disrespected by the system put in place to protect her.
It’d taken a week, but they were here now. Sniffling. Weak. Afraid. He leaned forward and pressed his fist into the bloody crotch of the man, putting his weight into the action, and appreciated the painful wheeze that resulted.
“Tell me. Tell me what you’ve done.”
Finally, the man’s mouth moved and the right words came out.
Seventeen
BELL
Lydia groaned. “I can’t believe you screwed us out of front row seats, Bell. You know I’ve never been to a hockey game.”
Meredith nodded. “Plus, he was hot. You should have at least taken his number.”
I shifted my weight and pushed the seatbelt tongue into the buckle, thinking of the cute Ukrainian, his cautious smile and the gentle way his fingers had curled along my lower back. He’d offered us front row seats and a tour of their facilities. He’d also asked me to come home with him.
There’d been a moment where I’d thought about leaving with him. He’d leaned in close, whispering in my ear, and I’d thought about turning my head. Letting him kiss me. Seeing if there was a connection—the sort that might lead to a night of rumpled sheets and moans and orgasms.
But I hadn’t. Instead, I’d pulled away from his lap and turned down the hockey invite, and absolutely none of it made sense because I shouldn’t, couldn’t, make decisions based on Dario, or on any man’s weak comparison to him. And that had been half the problem—that the goalie, that Ian, that every man seemed suddenly unimpressive when compared to Dario’s pull on me.
“In regards to your heart? I can’t protect that. That’s a risk you’re going to have to decide whether to take.”
I’d always been a gambler, with my money, my time, my safety … but never my heart. Still, didn’t it mean something that it was even at risk? Didn’t the fact that I had the potential to fall for someone mean that I should take the jump?
For four days I’d been mulling over that question. Four days. Countries made peace treaties and war decisions in less time. I’d buried myself in studying and work and had made no headway with the decision.
I could take the jump. Be Dario Capece’s girlfriend. Live in his million-dollar suite. Accept his decadent lifestyle and ignore the wedding band on his finger. I could do it.
But would I? Should I?
Meredith turned on the radio, and I rested my head against the window. When we got home, I changed into sweats, washed my face, and called a taxi.
* * *
The access card got me into the garage, and I rode the giant car elevator up on foot. When I got to the coded door, I paused, taking a moment to remember the sequence. Birthday. Last four of my phone number. 04182996#. The lights changed and the knob gave underneath my palm. I pushed the door open and stepped into quiet tranquility, everything smooth and perfect. A lamp on the entry table illuminated woods, leathers, and fabrics, a gorgeous place I didn’t fit into.
I moved into the bedroom and stripped, leaving my clothes where they fell and crawling into the bed. I unlocked my phone and stared at the text from Dario, sent a half-hour ago.
—Let me know when you’re home safely.
It was the same text I’d gotten the last three nights. Short and sweet, easy to ignore. But, I hadn’t. Each night, I had texted him from bed, my phone now filled with short chatter about my shifts, classes, and life. I typed out a quick response.
I decided to come to the suite for the night. I hope that’s okay…
—More than okay. It’s yours, for as much or as little as you want to use it.
I settled into the pillows and curled onto one side, cupping the phone close to my face. The bed, which had seemed so cozy with him beside me, suddenly felt cold and empty.
The bed feels lonely without you :(
I repositioned the pillow under my head and watched as dots appeared, then his response quickly followed.
—Is that an invite?
yes
—On my way.
I grabbed one of the giant feather pillows and pushed it between my knees, settling into a cocoon of comfort. I laid the phone on the bed beside me and watched the clock, wondering how long it would take him to pull on clothes, make an excuse to his wife, and come down to this level.
