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Whatever it is, I’ll have to bring out the big guns if I wanta chance at getting some answers. Most importantly, despite the undeniable pull between us, I’m still pissed off he’s been withholding information from me all this time, and I’m determined to make him pay. At least a little. I know he’s noticed all the red items around the house, especially since I keep placing more of them everywhere—replacing his boring old things—but he has yet to comment on it.
Sweaty, on shaky legs and looking like I’ve been just put through the ringer, I make my way back into the guest room. I need an ice bath, painkillers and probably a nap, but all those things will have to wait.
“I was thinking I could make dinner for us tonight,” I say, wringing my hands.
Dante halts in front of his door, his head tilting towards me. I don’t know if he’s surprised I’ve not been back to his bedroom, but I’ve been intent on staying by myself ever since he got back in hopes he’ll break first. Obviously, it hasn’t worked. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s relieved I’m not in his face all the time since he’s been so adamant he’s not the right person for me. “You want to cook?”
“Sure.” I shrug, my eyes darting to his chin, avoiding the two pools of molten chocolate like wildfire. There’s only so much heated eye contact a woman can take before turning into a gooey mess. “I could make pasta. I take it you like Italian food?”
His eyes drop to my lips. “I can’t get enough ofit.” The deep rumble of his voice has my knees trembling. I could pretend it’s from the intense workout, but I don’t like lying, especially to myself.
With the willpower of San Tzu, I say, “See you at seven, then,” and walk into the guest room, praying for inner strength where Dante is concerned.
After a particularly cold shower, I dress in yet another red ensemble and head downstairs. I usually don’t weardresses—ever—so I’m still trying to get used to the feel of all that floaty material around me. But the pain will be worth the prize, I hope. For tonight’s mission, I chose a floor-length number with a side slit that goes all the way up to my red lace panties. No bra as the sleeveless dress has a deep v on both front and back, a more slutty take on a Grecian style. It’s a red lipstick and strappy heels kind of outfit, and if Dante isn’t completely bamboozled into giving me what I want by the end of the night, I’m clearly barking up the wrong tree. My dirty mind conjures images of the thingsitwants from Dante, but I shake my head and pretend all I want is answers about my past.
I’m just taking the cherry pie, which I baked and managed not to screw up, out of the oven when Dante comes into the kitchen.
“Hi.” I smile at him, putting the pie on the counter and taking off the oven mitts.
“You look—” he swallows.
“Nice?” I rub my hands on the red material of my dress, suddenly aware of how much exposed skin I’m actually showing.
“No.”
“Oh.” I take a step back, taking my eyes off him, my shoulders dropping. “Right. Well—”
He’s in front of me before I even notice him move, his fingers lifting my chin to face him. I keep my eyes averted as a blush spreads across my cheeks. I’m so stupid. Of course, he’d hate my dress. It’s red after all.
“You don’t look nice, Alessa.” His body is against mine. “You look like a vision.”
“Really?” I mutter, biting my bottom lip.
“Look at me,” he orders, gripping my chin harder until I relent. “So fucking beautiful, you took my breath away when I walked in.”
“Oh.” I think I blush even harder.
“Mhmmm,” he hums, stroking my cheek with his thumb before pressing it to his lips and licking it. “You take my breath away every time you walk into a room. Your beauty is unfair to everything else around you. Art, nature, people. They all pale in comparison to you.”
I’m breathless by the time he’s finished. Caught off guard by his words. Does he really think this?
“Thank you,” I whisper, licking my lips, my body buzzing with excitement.
He steps away nonchalantly, giving me whiplash as he looks around, totally oblivious he’s just tilted my world on its axis.
“What’s for dinner?”
I narrow my eyes, glad I didn’t waver from my food choices despite having second thoughts since he’s been putting all that time into teaching me to fight and swim.
“Have a seat.” With a sweet smile, I gesture at the table I set up earlier. A red tablecloth and a lit red candle atop it.
Dante’s eyebrow lifts, but he silently follows my direction, flinging a red napkin onto his lap. As I bring a bottle of red wine to the table, I almost stumble with horror, connecting the dots on how this all looks. Like I’m a psycho who’s trying to seduce him. I mean, Iamtrying to seduce informationout ofhim, but I’m not a psycho. I just want to make things as uncomfortable for him as possible. Hoping it would help him sing like a canary. At no stage of my master plan did I consider I might come off like a bunny boiler.
“Hope you’re hungry,” I laugh awkwardly, pouring the wine into his wine glass.
Dante clears his throat, then reaches for the glass and takes a sip before looking up, his gaze following my moves as I turn around to plate the food. The silence between us is deafening, so I quickly press shuffle on my Spotify playlist,hoping to ease the tension in the room. As soon as the first beat comes through the speakers, I lunge for the phone, knocking it off the island and under the table as Khia asks all the ladies topop their pussy like this…
For fuck’s sake.
