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"Maybe you'll change your mind," he murmured before opening the door and exiting.
I followed. "What are you doing?"
"Escorting you upstairs to deal with the mess instead of ignoring it for the next few days." He raised an eyebrow in warning, so I didn't protest.
How was it possible that he suspected this?
So, less than enthusiastically, I allowed him to follow me up the stairs to my front door. My fingers trembled as I inserted the key into the lock and then pushed the door open. Dario had taken care of the replacement so that my four walls were not accessible in my absence.
The chaos that presented itself to me made me take a step back. I bumped into Dario and drew in a sharp breath. "This is even worse than I expected," I said, exhaling heavily.
"Well, he was very thorough," Dario murmured behind me, pushing me forward. "But it's only one room. It should be able to be done fast."
Not uplifting. After all, I was alone, and the Frenchman had somehow knocked over my bed frame. The feet pointed in the air, while the mattress leaned against the wall, sporting a few cuts.
I clenched my teeth, close to tears. Dario's living room had cost more than the furnishings in my one-room apartment.
For the moment, though, I had to pull myself together, because I didn't want to show that kind of weakness in front of Dario. I didn't want to arouse his pity or persuade him to help me.
With a sigh, I tied my hair into a bun, put down my gym bag, and thought about where best to start. In the kitchen? It had broken all the dishes when the Frenchman had ripped open the cupboards and taken everything out. With my chests of drawers lying tipped over in the middle of the room? Or rather in the bathroom, where the mirror lay shattered on the floor?
I didn't even want to think about the fact that Dario had been here with his brothers. Surely they didn't get to see something like this often and felt repulsed because someone could live like this at all.
"You won’t start doing anything while I'm here, are you?"
I shook my head. Before I started, I would first suffer a nervous breakdown, curse my life, and have a crying fit. Dario was not to witness any of this.
He didn't seem to like it, but it still seemed like he was about to say goodbye, which meant that I already had a load off my mind.
"Before I leave " he said, pulling something out of his pocket, which he held out to me. "A new smartphone. Our technician modified it a bit. I stored my number in it. And Casimiro's. So if you ever need help you call us. No matter what it's about."
He looked at me with urgency. What situations was he alluding to? Did he think I would become the focus of some criminals because I had been seen with him once or twice? Or was it just a pure precautionary measure that he took to offer me a little protection?
In truth, I didn't want to accept a handout from him, but eventually I reached out and accept the brand new smartphone. "That's very thoughtful. But you can't use it to monitor my location and such, can you?" I asked jokingly.
"Sure I can. And if I want, I also have access to the camera and the microphone, so I can hear when you're lying in bed at night touching yourself," he replied with a snort and shook his head before looking at me as if I had taken leave of my senses.
"Thanks," I said, letting the item slide into my back pocket before changing my mind.
Dario nodded and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it's time to leave you alone then."
This time I was the one who nodded. Dario moved. But instead of walking past me and out the door, he came straight at me.
One of his hands landed on my hip, the other on the back of my head as he pushed me against the wall, his gaze anchored deep in mine.
My breath caught, but I didn't have time to think about it. Dario lowered his mouth to mine and in a fraction of a second the memory of our hours together came to life in my mind.
Heat shot through my body, the wounds under my collarbone tingled. Dario pressed himself against me with his entire body weight, which was almost enough to elicit a moan from me.
It was the way he took possession of my lips. He tasted forbidden. Of lust. Sex. Desire. Passion. Pain and a mysterious note that had already made me soft the last time.
I had no choice but to claw my hands into his shirt, pulling him even closer to me, even though that was physically impossible.
My heart raced, heat pulsed through my body and settled between my legs with insatiable desire, but there was Dario's leg, forcing mine apart and thus providing me with the friction I needed to
With a wry grin on his lips, Dario pulled back a few inches. One of his fingers slid through my hair. "Don't do anything stupid, Gia," he murmured, a certain fire in his eyes.
Before I registered what was happening, he had already pushed himself off the wall and me and walked out the door.
