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He eyes my lips before his stare finds mine again. “Okay then, Cinderella. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, for starters,” I tell him, “I’m going to need to borrow something a bit warmer. It’s cold out there, and this lingerie and a coat won’t be enough for where I want to take you.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, he’s given me a hoodie that’s much too big, and we’re in the back of a blacked-out luxury car. It’s an indulgence I’m used to, but I can’t help but feel the familiar sting—as if it’s the salt to my deepest wounds.
I almost wish Dante drove a fucking Jeep. A Volvo. A freaking Ford Focus.Normalcy.It’s a foreign word I won’t be escaping tonight.
One I’ll probably never escape—at least not until I’m six feet underground, rotting away.
A driver pulls us into the parking lot of the destination I gave him the address to, and Dante’s eyes, two narrowed slits in the moonlight, slowly make their way to mine.
“And this will make your first time more majestic, kitten?”
I can’t help but laugh. As much as I want to control myself around him, it was funny, and a big part of me needed that.
I nod and look out the window at the dingy parking garage.
“NavyfuckingPier? What are you, a tourist?”
I shake my head, get out of the car, and shut the door quietly as Dante does the same. The driver makes a move to get out of the vehicle as well, but Dante stops him with the flick of his wrist and a subtle shake of his head. Obeying, the driver gets back into the car, but not without passing a knowing look to Dante.
“It’s”—I look at my phone—“two in the morning. Navy Pier isn’t open.” I grin at him as he quirks a dark brow. “Are you against doing something illegal?”
He chokes on his own laughter and lets out an expletive as he runs his fingers through his hair. He’s still donning the expensive-looking suit, and I’ve thrown my coat back on in anticipation of the Windy City chill.
“You have no idea, Ms. Carey.”
“Giaanaa,” I singsong as I lead him around the side of a parking garage, and we sneak inside in a way I’m certain only a handful of people know about. “Are you afraid of heights, big, bad rule breaker?”
I smirk to myself as I lead him up the stairs to the highest point of the building.
Dante doesn’t say anything, so when we finally reach the top and I swing the door open, I turn my back to the rooftop and look at my shiny devil. There’s something in his stare. Not necessarily fear, but maybe…trepidation, at the very least?
“You are afraid of heights!” I snicker, and he follows me, rolling his sleeves up and no doubt putting on a front.
I can sense it. If there’s something that’s been properly ingrained into my bloodline, it’s reading people. It’s knowing a move before it’s made.
“Not afraid of heights,” he mumbles, stepping around me to walk farther out onto the rooftop.
I don’t miss how his steps are less confident, more careful, as he takes in our surroundings.
“Just unsure as to why going to the top of a parking garage in the winter is going to make me fucking you more meaningful. Please don’t tell me a shitty rooftop garage is where you’ve pictured the first fuck of your life?”
The wind picks up, and I wrap my arms around myself, amused at his awful observation. I’m still cold, despite the oversized hoodie and my coat, but I knew I wanted to bring him here.
“Yes, Dante, I’ve always blissfully imagined my first time being with a man who apparently wears nothing but designer suits and insults my favorite spot in the city,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “It’s cold, but it’s not snowing.” I shrug. “Let’s look on the bright side.”
He steps toward me, placing his hands around my waist.
“Tell me what we’re doing here,” he demands, ignoring everything else I’ve just said.
Something in his façade shifts as he looks around before his eyes latch back onto mine—something I can’t quite place.
“I just told you. This is my favorite spot. I’ve brought you here, and you have exactly…” I look at my phone again to calculate properly. “You have exactly four and a half hours to make something meaningful out of this night for me.”
Well,if I haven’t met my fucking match made in hell…
