Chapter 21
FRANKIE
I check my phone and read a few texts from Charlie, but she says there’s been no word about our father.
Determined not to lose the high I’m on from a successful morning, I double-check the list I just made as I walk into the main offices, mentally calculating what the promises I’d just made to the staff will cost. It’s relatively little compared to the energy and allegiance we’ll get in return from happy employees, but I know I’ll still have to justify the purchases to Dante.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Bellanti.”
“Hi, Ruby. How are you?”
Ruby is keeping watch from her perch behind the reception desk.
Unlike the first time I was here, she smiles at me and gives a little wave.
I like to think my charming personality made her come around, but I know it’s the Chanel scarf I left in a gift bag for her as a peace offering.
She’s been eating out of my hand ever since.
I smile at her and make my way down the hall to Dante’s office. I’m going to have to sweet talk him a little, be suave. He’s not one to think about other people’s comfort, and if he does, it doesn’t seem to be a high priority for him.
His door is partially open, so I sail right in, not bothering to knock.
The smell of heavy perfume hits me, and I look automatically toward the desk. Dante is leaning way back in the chair, Jessica practically straddling him with one leg wedged between his thighs, her other foot on the floor. Her tongue is down his throat, her hand over his crotch.
The clipboard almost falls from my hand, but I grip it so hard the edge digs into my palm.
Jessica pulls back, her teasing voice just loud enough for me to hear. “Come on, lover. We’d have a beautiful baby together.”
Jesus fucking Christ. My limbs feel heavy and numb as I back out of the room and walk numbly into the restroom, locking the door and sliding down the cool tiled wall with the clipboard clutched to my chest. I can’t breathe.
I’m suffocating, drowning. Anxiety rises up inside me, floods me until I’m shaking.
Pulling breaths through my nose, I throw the clipboard across the room, watching it clatter to the floor. I knew he was an asshole. I knew he was cheating on me. And with his assistant of all people—God, what a cliché. But none of this is news to me.
So why the fuck do I feel this rage? Why do I still let him get to me? I’m sick of it. Sick of letting him dictate everything. Sick of men controlling my entire life.
I can’t believe I actually thought I might be able to lift up the edges of his controlling, self-absorbed, egotistical bullshit of a personality.
What did all my effort get me anyway, besides a front-row seat to another woman’s hand on my husband’s cock?
Was I seriously entertaining the notion that I could change him?
Men don’t change—at least, not men like him.
He takes what he wants without a hint of guilt or a second thought.
With no shame, no regard for anyone else’s feelings, and certainly without a worry of getting caught.
It’s time to set some boundaries, once and for all. Except that every time I try, my body betrays me. I need to pull myself together. March back in there and exercise some self-control.
Smoothing my hair, taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and will myself to calm down. I’ve got this. I have a job to do and I’m going to do it. Not my problem if Dante is interrupting his workday to get laid. Now I’m going to interrupt his getting laid with work.
When I get back to his office, clipboard in hand, Jessica is nowhere to be seen. Well, at least I won’t have to confront my husband and his mistress at the same time.
Dante looks up from his computer, his annoyed expression deepening when he sees that it’s me. He can be as annoyed as he wants. I’m not leaving until I’ve said my piece.
I shut the door pointedly behind me. The snick of the lock sliding into place unleashes something in me. It takes a second to realize what it is.
The absence of fear.
“You listen to me.” I approach his desk and slap the clipboard down.
His eyes snap to mine with a warning glare.
I could not care less. “I don’t give two fucks what you do on company time, even though everyone knows that fucking your assistant is generally considered bad business practices—not to mention a pathetic cliché. However—”
I only pause to take a quick breath. Now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop.
“You will not bring a child into this nightmare, you understand? Jessica is a conniving bitch who’d use any child you two had as a pawn, guaran-fucking-teed.
It’s exactly how my sisters and I grew up—nothing but pawns between our parents until Mom finally walked out, leaving us to be bargaining chips for our father.
But I guess you know all about that, don’t you? ”
A muscle works in his jaw. I stab my finger in the air at him.
“Maybe you can’t keep yourself from sticking your dick in other women, but I am putting my foot down about you having children out of wedlock. So you better wear a damn condom when you’re fucking around.”
Picking up the clipboard, I turn to leave, but he’s way too fast and grabs my wrist. I didn’t even hear him get out of the chair before his fingers closed hard around the delicate bones.
Dante holds my gaze as he walks around the desk to face me.
His body is brimming with anger, the heat of it sizzling around him. I’m still not afraid. I’m incensed.
He grins humorlessly. “Aren’t you a jealous bitch. You’re the only one allowed to have my children, then?”
I let out a low laugh. “I don’t want anything from you, certainly not a child. The world needs less Bellanti assholes in it, not more.”
Pulling my wrist away, I turn for the door. But he grabs the clipboard and tosses it across the desk, then pulls me into his arms, wrapping them around me. The moment he lifts my chin and looks at my mouth, I know I’m in trouble.
“Oh, you definitely want something from me,” he says. “You know exactly what you want from me.”
“I don’t.” I try to say it with conviction, even as my voice cracks and my knees go weak.
“Liar.”
His hand slides over my abdomen, as if feeling for his child. Then it slips down the waistband of my skirt, into my panties, dipping into the shameful wetness that’s gathered between my legs. When he plunges two fingers inside me all at once, I can’t help but moan.
Damn, damn, damn my stupid body for betraying me again.
The instant shock of pleasure jolts the fight right out of me.
I sink into his touch, hating myself as I do it, but powerless to stop it.
He doesn’t make a sound as he begins a fast, powerful assault on my clit.
In seconds, I’m panting and grinding against his hand.
My orgasm builds fast and potent, but he stills his fingers before I can come, as if he knew I was about to and couldn’t wait to deny me.
A sound of protest works from my lips. Satisfied with whatever I just proved to him, he spins me around and shoves me facedown onto the desk, yanking up my skirt.
My palms go flat on the surface as he presses into me from behind, trapping me.
A deep ache throbs in my pussy as Dante grinds his hard cock against my ass.
I push back against him, telling myself it’s to force him away, though it’s really because I need to feel his dick inside me.
He doesn’t make me wait.
Tugging the crotch of my panties to the side, he plunges into me, filling me. I moan again—I can’t help it—and he begins to thrust. I meet him thrust for thrust, wanting more, wanting it deeper, harder. More.
I hate myself for this. For letting him end every argument and solve every fight by fucking me into silence.
Or submission.
His body arches over mine, pinning me, making me helpless to do anything except receive his thick cock.
I reach behind me and tangle my fingers in his hair, twisting my head to kiss him, holding him as tightly as he’s holding me.
In a rush, my orgasm is back on the verge.
He jackhammers into me, using me like I’m his personal fuck doll, pounding faster and faster, the edge of the desktop cutting into the tops of my thighs.
His hand comes down to smack my ass with a sharp slap.
The bite of pain throws me over. I come hard, almost screaming out my pleasure, but I catch myself and whimper as the ecstasy floods me.
Dante wraps a hand around my throat, thrusts hard twice, and spills his seed into me.
It shoots hard and hot, deep inside, and in that moment, I know that it’s over.
This rush of madness that takes away all the anger and hatred I feel for him has passed—and the moment I right my skirt and sweep back my hair, we’ll be right where we left off.
Dante pulls out and steps back, but I don’t get up. I lie there, half on his desk, my bare ass in the air. I don’t want to face him. Face the fact that, once again, I allowed him to manipulate me into silence.
I hate him.
I hate myself.
Worse? I hate that Jessica was right about the mind-blowing sex on a desk.
Being sure not to look at Dante, I finally stand and situate my clothes, feeling him start to drip out of me. I look over at him, shaking my head. His hands are in his trouser pockets, his face expressionless.
My voice fills with acid. “Why are you like this? How can this possibly make you happy?”
For a half-second, I swear I catch a beat of discomfort flash across his face. A flicker of vulnerability. Maybe even…shame. But his mask comes down again, and with his clothes back in place, he stalks out of the office without another word.