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I feel invigorated. Something is intoxicating about the artistic process. It’s a rush to the head, and maybe the orgasm is adding to it, too. As I worked, Dante sat in the chair, reading the bookInfernoby Dante. Apparently, he’s read it several times.
I turn to Dante in real life, his gentle smirk on his lips and a few strands of silver in his otherwise dark hair. Then, to the canvas. It’s based on my wolf-dog piece, the transitioning. Only this time, it’s Dante, starting as an angel with a heavenly glow on him, then becoming shadowy and gray, and finally, his demon face emerges. His eyes are the same.
“Your eyes,” I whisper.
He touches my shoulder softly. “It’s amazing—the eyes. You’re right. They’re the most human part.”
“The mostyoupart,” I say.
“An angel and a devil,” Dante says, raising his eyebrow. “They do look like me, both of them.”
“But it’s inaccurate,” I tease, touching his arm. “You’re just an angel, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” he says sarcastically.
“You’re a devil when you need to be.”
He looks at me seriously. “I’ll always be that.”
There he goes again, throwing around words likealways. Yet we both saw howwereacted to that marriage-talk slipup.
“I’ll have to get this to you after the drop-off,” he says. “You won’t be able to show up with a painting.”
“So I’ll see you after, then?”
“Yes,” he says, as if the idea of not seeing me is unthinkable.
“We managed to go so long without running into each other.”
“I’m not much of a socializer,” he says gruffly, “but I’ll make an exception. In fact, my ma wants to invite you for dinner. I don’t know how we’d make that work, but?—”
“I’d love to do that,” I cut in. “Do you really want me to meet her?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I think you’d get on great, but if the wrong people found out we were meeting… I’m surprised the cops haven’t contacted me since we were texting before you disappeared.”
“It’s the Family,” I tell him.
“That means Luca or Elio would’ve had to get ahead of the game on that.”
“They’re looking out for you,” she says.
“We’ll figure this all out,” I reply. “For now, we just need to get you home.”
“Where are you staying tonight?” I ask.
“You tell me, Mia.”
“I don’t want to do anything else,” I whisper, “but last night, when you?—”
“I’ll hold you all night long,” he says huskily, suddenly pulling me into a hug.
I wrap my arms around him and press my face against his chest, savoring that feeling, that closeness, that warmth. He hugs me even tighter. “I’ll hold you all night long. I won’t even sleep. I’ll make the night last as long as it possibly can.”
“Keeping watch over me?” I whisper.
“Protecting you,” he says, squeezing me.
I turn my face to the side, listening to his heartbeat as I look at the painting, his demon face, his angel smile.
