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Dante’s announcement was clearly for my benefit, but if he wasn’t mature enough to address me directly like an adult, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of my acknowledgment.
Next to him, Kai’s gaze skimmed over me and Sloane to Isabella, who perched on the stool closest to the entrance. Her leather skirt, dangly earrings, and stiletto boots were the polar opposite of his suit, glasses, and silk handkerchief tucked in his breast pocket.
She arched an eyebrow at his scrutiny before plucking a cherry tomato from the bowl next to her and popping it in her mouth. She didn’t look away from him, making the otherwise innocent movement almost sexual.
Kai watched her show with the bland expression of someone waiting in line at the post office.
Next to him, Dante remained in the doorway, silent and unmoving.
The clock ticked toward the half hour. Sauces bubbled and hissed on the stove, and my knife chopped a steady rhythm against the cutting board.
The tension was almost as thick as Greta’s signature fettuccine.
Greta cleared her throat. “Well, have a safe flight to D.C. Bring back a souvenir or two, hmm? I’m sure people in the household will appreciate it.”
She slid another glance in my direction.
Smooth, Greta.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dante said stiffly. “Enjoy dinner.”
He left without sparing a glance at me.
“Ladies.” Kai dipped his head before following him.
Their exit severed the tension holding us hostage.
I dropped my knife, and Greta muttered something under her breath while she removed the meat from the oven.
“I need some water.” Isabella slid off her stool and headed to the fridge, her cheeks pink.
I stared at the cutting board, trying to sort through my mess of emotions.
I should’ve been used to Dante’s business trips by now, but the news of his upcoming travel stung more than it should’ve. Even if we didn’t talk, his presence was a warm reassurance in the apartment.
It was always a little colder when he wasn’t home.
CHAPTER23
Dante & Vivian
DANTE
I didn’t need to visit D.C.
I could’ve conducted my business there virtually, but I welcomed the break from the strained atmosphere at home. I also took the opportunity to check in on Christian, whom I’d tasked with a new project on top of the Francis situation.
He lounged on the couch opposite me, his eyes cool. We were in the library of his downtown penthouse, and we’d spent the past hour discussing Valhalla, business, and security. But judging by his expression, he was still pissed about what happened in the lobby earlier.
I’d merely kissed the hand of one of his neighbors—one whom he seemed to have a special interest in.
It wasn’t every day I saw Christian Harper agonize over a woman, and I’d be damned if I let it slide without fucking with him.
He’d get over it. They weren’t even dating.
“Heath Arnett. CEO of a cloud storage startup that’s going public at the end of this year,” he said now. He lifted an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about cloud storage?”
The mention of Heath’s name wiped away my amusement at Christian’s response to a simple hand kiss.
