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He studies my face for a beat. I’m glad he can’t see my back, because a large droplet of nervous sweat is sliding down between my shoulder blades. “It was a gift,” he finally says.
“Oh.” My face falls. Well, that’s a dead end. “Okay.” I hang my head resigned and walk to my desk.
“Stevie?” he says, stopping me as I’m halfway there.
I look over my shoulder.
“I might be able to find out where it was purchased. Is there anything in particular you’d like engraved?”
“A vase.” I’m usually able to think quickly on my feet, but the way he’s looking at me has me all flustered.
“A vase?”
“A silver one,” I nod. “A family heirloom,” I add.
His brows scrunch up, causing an adorable line to form in between, one I have an urge to smooth with my finger while sitting in his lap.Stop it, Alessa!
“Okay. I’ll have a look.”
I nod again, then walk back to my desk, unwrapping my sandwich and taking a bite. I put the same amount of ketchup on both of them this time. It’s hard to admit, but even as much as I love the red stuff, I’m struggling with bite number two. I don’t know if it’s the mortadella or what. But it just doesn’t go together.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” There’s a clutter in the other room. “Stevie!” Dante shouts.
I smile behind the screen, trying not to giggle.
“Yes, boss?”
“Can you come here, please?”
Swallowing my chuckle, I get up and walk over to the door that separates us.
“You know what would be good in here?” I say, looking around. “A couch, and maybe a small table with some chairs. It’s a bitbare, don’t you think? It could use some colour too. Didn’t you say red was your favourite colour? Red would look nice here, too.”
His jaw is clenched so tight I can hear his teeth grinding from where I’m standing. “I’d tell you I hate red, but I’m afraid you’d just use it as ammunition,” he says, and boy, is he right. “What the hell is this?”
“What?” I ask innocently.
“This,” he points at his sandwich.
“Your sandwich. The one you asked for.”
He closes his eyes slowly. His eyelids fluttering like he’s trying to compose himself. “Inside.”
“Mortadella,” I say.
“The fucking ketchup, Stevie. What the fuck is ketchup doing in there?”
My eyes go huge. “It’s not supposed to be inside? I was wondering why they’d put it in the sandwich. It tastes a bit weird, doesn’t it?”
“Get out,” he grits through his teeth.
Having done my bit, I go back to my desk and pick up my sandwich, taking a bite. I wasn’t lying. We really could use a table with chairs in here. It can’t be healthy eating at your desk. As I continue to eat my lunch, I can feel Dante’s angry stare on me, studying me.
I look up, meeting his dark brown eyes and lifting mysandwich in a ‘cheers’ motion. To my surprise, he lifts his sandwich to his mouth and rips a savage bite out of it, his eyes never leaving mine.
A shiver runs down my spine as he eats his food like he’s a starved animal ripping into my throat. And what’s confusing is, in that moment, as I watch him devour his food, a drop of ketchup dripping down his chin, rage filling his features, I’m not sure if I’m more scared or turned on.
Dante Santoro never let his control slip like this before, and as I watch him, I can’t help but wish he would let this beast out more often. Because as scary as he is, he’s also raw, and passionate, and so damn sexy my panties are soaked.
