Page 221 of Ricardo

His expression changes at once. “Call Dante.”

“I am.”

I press my son’s name with more force than necessary and lift the phone back to my ear.

Chapter Twenty Nine

Julia

Dante steps out first.

He scans the curb, the lobby entrance, the parked cars along the street. Then he opens my door.

He has said almost nothing since we pulled up. The little bit of softness from the car has folded away again, replaced by the cold focus.

“Stay beside me,” he says.

I almost tell him I know how to walk into my own building.

I don't think he’d appreciate it.

The doorman is at the desk. He smiles when he sees me, then glances at Dante and straightens a little.

“Evening, Miss O’Brien.”

“Hi, Russell.”

We cross to the elevators and briefly wait for the doors to open.

I step in behind Dante.

The elevator ride feels too long.

Dante stands between me and the doors, one hand inside his jacket. His body is still, but the air around him is full of lethal concentration.

The only other time I've seen Dante like this is when he showed up in Connecticut to get me out of Harrison's house.

My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat.

I want to tell him that just because he was assigned to take me home doesn't mean he has to do all this. This is my apartment building. I do this every single day.

The elevator doors open.

Dante steps into the hall first and looks both ways before he lets me follow.

I reach into my clutch for my keys.

Dante stands at my side, close enough that his sleeve brushes my arm.

The lock turns.

I push the door open, but Dante puts out an arm so he can step in first.

My heart is in my throat, and I want to tell him that he's taking it too far. He's freaking me out, and I don't think my nerves can handle it.

He steps in first, but I can't wait another second. I'm starting to feel sick again. I step in with him, prepared to push past him and run for the bathroom.

“Jul—”