He holds out the cup. “Does that mean you don’t want the ice?”
She gives the drink a condescending look. “I don’t drink or eat artificial food.”
“Got that.” He winks and takes a sip. “Can I get you anything else?”
She crosses her arms and shoots him an unfriendly smile. “Out of here?”
“Now,” he drawls, “I would’ve suggested my place?—”
“Cut it out, Reino,” Dante grumbles.
The smile that curves his lips is panty-dropping hot. “See you later, firecracker.”
Jazz mumbles something I hope Noah didn’t hear.
When it’s time to go home, Noah takes Dante’s hand on one side and mine on the other, looking very pleased with himself as he walks between us. He smiles at Dante and then at me, oblivious to the strained atmosphere between us.
A memory from my childhood comes back to me. I was walking just like this between my mom and Leander. It was my first day of school. My mom was so proud. Leander didn’t like the attention she gave me. He was jealous because he’d been the only child Mom had driven to school before then.
To retaliate, he’d pinched my side so hard I had a bruise for days to come. I didn’t tell my mom because Leander would’ve only hurt me worse for telling on him.
What hits me about the memory is how my father had never been present in my life. His seat was empty at all my school plays and even at my graduation ceremony. I always believed he’d been too busy to attend the events that were important to me. I thought he only concerned himself with Leander’s education because I was a girl, and in my father’s book, mothers took care of their girls. He never got involved in my upbringing except for dictating who I had to marry. I reckoned he loved me in his own kind of quiet, absent way. I realized too late he simply didn’t care.
Dante and I don’t speak about the subject of my pregnancy again. Noah wants Jazz, Dante, and me to play his new games with him on Sunday. In the afternoon, Jazz and I pack, using the new suitcases Dante has bought. I’m only taking care of the task because I don’t want Reino or Ulysses to pack my underwear. Dante didn’t hesitate to tell me his men would pack up, so whether I refused or not didn’t faze him.
Noah helps, but it’s more of a game to him where he gets to show off his new clothes. He even asked Dante if he could have a suit like the one Dante was wearing. I didn’t hear Dante’s answer. Although Dante is always fashionably dressed, I don’t want Noah to imitate his father because it won’t end with the clothes. Noah will mimic his behavior and actions too.
Dante gets to read him one of the new books when we put him to bed. As soon as he’s asleep, Dante takes me to the bedroom we share and locks the door.
The sex is wild and punishing, maybe because he didn’t like how I challenged him earlier. I lie beneath him in nothing but a T-shirt, letting him spank me with his belt and fuck me with his fingers, tongue, and cock. I scream orgasm after orgasm out behind the hand he slams over my mouth to contain my sounds, my pleasure knowing no bounds, but since my revelation during our shopping spree, I only hate him with a deeper intensity. For letting him touch me and bringing me pleasure, I hate myself even more.
However, we seemed to have fallen into this pattern of depravity, both of us craving the other and loathing that we do. The moment he puts his hands or his mouth on me, my body always outweighs my mind. Thankfully, the moment only lasts so long.
When I set out to do the little handing over ceremony with my client on Monday, Dante comes with me. It’s just a quick presentation of the work I’ve done to show the owner where to find everything so she doesn’t have to look for items when I’m gone. As I don’t meet with the client while I’m working, I also use the opportunity to return her key. Usually, this is when I’d ask for a referral, but as I’m leaving Denver, I don’t bother.
She gives me the balance of the payment for my service in cash, which I split fifty-fifty with Jazz despite my friend’s protests. She earned that money. Besides, I still owe her for the flight ticket.
Dante tells me he’s proud of the job I’ve done, even looking as if he means it. His men drive away the last of the trash. I leave the recycling bins for the owner, having labeled them in case she forgets how to separate her recyclable trash, which she told me she’s never done.
And then we’re in a private jet on our way to New York City. Dante shows Noah the cockpit. The pilot lets him sit in the copilot chair and hold the yoke, which leaves Noah grinning from ear to ear.
As much as he’s excited, I’m nervous. I refuse the juice and snacks Reino offers me, feeling as if I’ll empty my stomach if I eat or drink.
Jazz sits opposite me in a plush white leather seat. She’s wearing one of the new dresses she bought with Dante’s money. I swear she tried to get back at him by making a serious dent in his bank account with the amount of glittery evening dresses and embroidered stage costumes she bought. Dante never said a word. He just shrugged and swiped his card.
Already the dictator of my decisions, he selected my outfit this morning. The off-white dress is simple but elegant with a cinched waist and a fitted skirt that reaches my calves. A short slit at the back makes walking easier, but it took time to get used to the heels.
I haven’t worn heels in years—five, to be exact—and the new patent leather is already chafing my skin. I can feel blisters forming on the outsides of my little toes, but that discomfort is nothing compared to the anxiety that leaves me nauseous.
How will Leander react at seeing me? We didn’t exactly part on amiable terms. He tried to reach me throughout the years with messages he posted on social media. Now that I know he’d bugged Noah’s toy and sent men after me, I’m glad I was never tempted to ask him for money or help.
At the thought of those men’s fate, a shiver runs through me. I never had any doubt about the violence Dante is capable of. Yet I don’t think I’ll ever grow used to the killing.
Noah, who’s sitting beside me, pulls on my sleeve and leans closer to whisper not-so-softly in my ear, “I need the bathroom.”
On the opposite side of the aisle, Dante immediately gets to his feet. “I’ll take him.”
He reaches over me to unbuckle Noah’s seat belt at the same time as I reach for it. Our fingers clash. I still have welts from his belt over the back of my thighs. They make sitting uncomfortable, reminding me with each movement on my seat what we’ve done. The memory sends heat to my core. The arousal it triggers is thick and warm like a trickle of honey. Yet that light, innocent touch of our fingers sends a bolt of awareness through me that hardens my nipples. Unlike the lazy, steady flow of sticky honey, this one is sharp and quick like a needle being jabbed into my skin.
