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“Hold him still,” I order Maximo, and he tightens his grip on Lenny’s arm who looks about to pass out from the pain whilst looking at his missing digit sitting on the floor next to his feet.
I grip the base of his middle finger with the blades. “Touch her again and I will bury you, Lenny. You ever even speak to her again without my permission and I will cut out your fucking tongue. You understand me?”
“Y-yes, Boss,” he snivels as tears run down his face.
I clip off his middle finger too, and he howls as he stares at his second finger bouncing onto the ground between us.
I close the secateurs, and Maximo takes it as his cue to release his grip on Lenny’s arm. As soon as he’s free from the iron-clad grasp, a shaking, crying Lenny pulls his injured hand toward his body. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wraps it around his bleeding stumps before bending down as his body tries to deal with the pain.
“Get him the fuck out of here,” I say to Maximo before turning and walking back into the warmth of my house, while my best friend and most trusted soldier takes care of the aftermath of the message I’ve just delivered.
Kat is mine.
Chapter7
Kat
If someone had told me this morning that I’d be ending the day wearing Dante Moretti’s shirt, I’d have told them they were high. If they’d told me I would have chosen to keep the damn thing on after he forced me to wear it, then I’d have told them they were batshit crazy.
Staring at the ceiling, I press my cheek against the soft collar and remember slipping it on a short while earlier, and how easily the expensive material glided over my skin. A shiver runs along my spine as I recall the cotton still infused with his body heat and how the warmth and the scent of him blanketing my bare skin sent unexpected shivers of comfort and pleasure rippling through my body.
It smells of him still, of fresh air and cool mint and his cologne. I can’t believe he took my favorite t-shirt and tossed it into the trash. Forced me to take it off in front of him too. It should have been embarrassing, so why did it feel empowering? I saw the way his eyes drifted over my body and the steely look on his face when he’s trying to control his emotions.
But why the hell am I still wearing his clothes? True, I didn’t bring much with me from my house and that t-shirt was one of the few things I have to sleep in. My pajamas are dirty and in the laundry hamper, but I could find something else. Except that his shirt feels so nice. Obviously because it’s so incredibly expensive and not because it still smells and feels like him.
And I’m too tired and comfortable right now to leave this bed and change. Tomorrow, I will do the laundry and give the devil his super luxurious and comfortable shirt back. But tonight, I will sleep in the warmth of it and try not to think about how the smell of him and the thought of wearing his clothes is anything but abhorrent to me.
* * *
To my relief,I barely saw Dante today. I know he was in the house because I saw a fleeting glimpse of him in the hallway when he was heading to his gym this morning, and I heard him talking to Maximo as I passed the kitchen, but I didn’t have to spend any time in his company at all. Having spent the night in his shirt and after he saw my boobs, I’m not sure I could have looked him in the eye without blushing.
Last night, none of what happened seemed so bad, but in the daylight, it feels like what it was. Dante Moretti saw me almost naked. I need a few hours for my brain to process this information and find a way to be around him without melting into puddle of shame.
In an attempt to avoid him for the rest of the evening too, I make myself some noodles for dinner and head to my room. As soon as I’m inside, I notice the small pile of neatly folded white material on the end of the bed. Assuming Sophia has left some new linen or towels, I place my noodles onto the dresser and walk to the bed to put whatever it is away. It’s only as I get closer that I see they are white t-shirts, with a folded piece of paper sitting on top. Frowning in confusion, I pick it up and open it.
As you’re so fond of wandering around the house in men’s t-shirts, you might be needing these.
I drop the note and pick up the shirt. It’s a plain white cotton tee with tags still on — tags that tell me this is the most expensive piece of clothing I’ve ever owned. They must be from Dante. He bought me t-shirts to wear for bed? I don’t know if I’m pissed at him or grateful. But neither of those things account for the butterflies currently swirling in my stomach.
Looking down, I count another four in the pile.
He bought me t-shirts to wander around the house in? To sleep in?
I shake my head in frustration. One small act of kindness does not erase the fact that he is a devil.
He kidnapped me, for God’s sake!
I need to stop thinking he is anything other than the ruthless criminal he is.
* * *
It’s beentwo hours since I ate my noodles and I’m beginning to regret not eating any of the delicious dinner that Sophia was preparing because I’m still hungry. I guess, I could go to the kitchen and grab a snack. I glance at the clock. Dante won’t be in there at this time. He’ll be in his study with Maximo or out cutting off heads or something.
I glance at the new white t-shirt I put on earlier and frown. Maybe taking his gift was a mistake. But they are new and so comfortable.
Jumping up off the bed, I look down at my attire. I’m covered up to my mid thigh. I’m not wearing a bra but the material is thick enough that nothing is visible. This is perfectly acceptable clothing to walk around the house in, even if I bump into a guard – or God forbid, lecherous Lenny. Not that I think he would try anything after the look Dante gave him when he found us in the kitchen together yesterday.
I make my way to the kitchen, relieved to see it empty when I pop my head inside. The light is on though. It always is. For some reason, that soothes me. My mom always told me that the kitchen is the heart of any home.
