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“Like hell you do.”
“Dante, I have college tuition, an apart—, well I guess I don’t have an apartment anymore, but I have bills to pay, and—”
He presses his fingers to my lips, my own musky scent invading my nostrils. It’s hard to remember those incredibly talented digits were inside me less than five minutes ago driving me to the heights of pleasure. I try to focus on that instead of how annoyed I’m becoming. If he thinks I’m going to be his kept woman, he’s got another thing coming. And I know that’s exactly where he’s going with this.
“I’ll take care of everything,” he growls.
Bingo.
“I’m not okay with that.”
“Well, you’ll just have to learn to be.”
“Dante,” I snarl as the elevator doors glide open.
Ignoring me, he stomps toward the door, jabs the key into the keyhole and whips it open. “This isn’t up for discussion, Rosa. It’s too dangerous for you out there.”
“Out where?” I shout as I follow him through the foyer.
“Everywhere!” He twirls around with his arms outstretched, motioning at the bustling city beyond the glass walls. “My enemies are everywhere right now, Rosa, and the minute that they figure out what you mean to me, you’ll become a target.”
I slap my hands on my hips and glare up at the paranoid idiot. “So, you’re going to keep me captive in your penthouse for the rest of your life?”
“No,” he growls, bending down so his eyes meet mine. “I’m going to keep you captive inourpenthouse for the rest ofourlives.”
My stupid heart pinches at his words, despite the flaring irritation. “Dante, you can’t imprison me for my own safety.” I force a breath in, attempting to calm the raging storm, and a familiar sickly, sweet scent invades my nostrils.
My pulse ratchets up and I take a few more steps into the apartment, past the kitchen island, and my gaze lands on the cocktail table in the living room. I gasp, all the air rushing out of my lungs.
A vase filled with withered, yellow roses.
Dante trails my every step, and a string of curses explode from his mouth as he follows my line of sight. “Pezzo di merda, come cazzo é possibile…?”
I should’ve been scared; I am kind of. But the first thought that pops into my head is: Dante’s never going to let me out of the apartment now.
He barrels by me, still muttering curses, jerks the vase off the table, rips the note from the plastic holder and tosses it on the floor before stalking toward the balcony.
“What are you doing?” I run after him.
He’s already outside in the frigid air, holding the dead roses over his head by the time I catch up.
“Dante, no! You could hit something or someone.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he growls. “Thisbastardodies today. I’ve had enough of his taunting, his stupid passive aggressive bullshit. I’m hunting Dr. Mark down this instant.” He tosses the crystal vase over the veranda, and I stare horrified as it plummets down fifty floors and smashes in the middle of Central Park West.
The devil beside me must have a guardian angel on his shoulder because somehow it doesn’t hit anyone, just shatters into a million pieces on the asphalt.
“Dante!” I hiss.
He ignores me and stalks back into the living room, searching for the discarded note. The one I slid my boot over. He’s already so pissed, I can’t imagine what he’ll do once he reads whatever the psycho sent.
He’s on the floor now, lifting up the edges of the carpet, crawling and cursing. “Where the hell is it?” he snarls. For fuck’s sake, this man has lost his mind. I kind of feel guilty now for hiding the card from him.
Keeping it concealed under my shoe, I drop down to the floor beside him. “Dante, it’s okay. I’m okay.” I frame his anxious face with my hands and force his eyes to mine. “He’s just fucking with us, don’t you see that?”
“Well, now, I’m going to fucking tear his throat out with my teeth.” He snarls at me, baring those gleaming teeth, and for the first time since I met the savage male, I’m scared. Not of him, butforhim.
“What are you going to do?” I hate the tremor in my voice.
