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"That cat is evil."
"She seems pretty sweet to me." Then he looks at me with a wide, boyish smile. "But I do have a way of making pussies purr."
I stare at him, not even able to understand what is going on or register his terrible pun. All I know is this man broke into my house, basically told me he is obsessed with me, and now he's petting my cat like they're lifelong pals.
“Are you real, Dante?” He smiles, putting down Molly before pulling me into him again.
“Am I real?”
“None of this adds up. You drop money at a strip club, find me in the wild twice now, slip in and out of my place in the shadow of night . . . What are you hiding? A wife? Kids? Some kind of underground lifestyle?”
“The only person in my life is you.”
He doesn’t deny the lifestyle.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, and it’s not the words but the way he says them that itches something in my memory. Something I can’t reach, can’t touch, can’t quite understand.
Do you trust me?
The memory I can’t hold onto slips from my grasp.
But the warmth stays behind.
“Yes,” I say. “I think so.” The smile he gives me in return is almost boyish, sweet. “Don’t make me regret that, Dante. Please,” I beg, moving the thick hunk of hair from his head with my fingers. He grabs my wrist and places a soft kiss to my pulse.
“I would die before I let you regret this, fiorella. Come. Let me feed you,” he says, stepping back and guiding me toward the little table in my kitchen area.
And then Dante Romano pulls out food he brought over and I let him feed me.
* * *
“I don’t like this place,” Dante says hours later as we sit in my bed watching TV. He already fucked me raw once, and I know from my limited experience, a second is coming before he lets me fall asleep on his chest. His eyes move around the small studio apartment. “You deserve luxury. Beauty.”
Consider my feathers ruffled.
“Luxury does not equate to happiness.”
“I know that. I just think you deserve the world, Lilah.”
“There was a time when I had the world given to me, and I was the least happy I’ve ever been.”
It’s something I’ve struggled with over the past two months. Knowing that despite the stress, the pressure I’ve put on myself, and the knowledge of how privileged my life before was, I’m happier than I ever have been.
I’m finally my own person, and knowing this happiness came without the extravagance I once relied on can be confusing.
“You were never given the world, Delilah. You were given the version of the world your father thought you should have. Me? I want you to have the world. I want you to have diamonds and luxury but also respect and loyalty. If you want people to hear your name and shake in fear, I’ll work to give you that. If you want people to look at you with awe and jealousy, I’ll make it happen.”
“I want to do things on my own. Earn them.”
“I never said I was going give them to you, Delilah. I am going to do whatever I have to to make sure you can grab whatever the fuck you want. I want to mow down anyone who steps in your way or tries to tell you no.”
I smile then move, rolling until I’m straddling him, the blanket falling down my naked body. On instinct, I think, his hands move to the dip of my waist, a thumb brushing the skin there.
But fuck if his eyes don’t stay right on mine, even if I can feel him getting hard beneath me.
“Is it normal to get turned on when someone tells you they want to kill anyone who gets in the way of what you want?”
His smile widens, and Jesus Christ, I would do some sick shit to see that smile.
