Chapter 20
DANTE
She hasn’t replied to any of my messages for over a week, and it excites me. It’s unusual when women don’t throw themselves at me. But Romi couldn’t make it any clearer that she hates me, and that does things to me, and I can’t even think straight.
When I’m not with her, I’m thinking about gifts I can send her. I thought for some of them I would receive some kind of reprimand, but nothing so far. She keeps me on my toes, which I fucking like.
I whistle a tune as I take the stairs to our apartment. It’s the early hours of the evening, and I carry a bouquet of two dozen roses, knowing she’ll fucking lose her mind over them—and not in a good way. I doubt she’s into romantic shit like this, and I can’t wait to see her reaction.
I noticed on the way up that the motorcycle I bought her has gone untouched, still with the bow on top. I can appreciate the stubbornness. I knock on the door twice, and hear Borris's small bark, but other than that, nothing.
Well, I tried to be polite by knocking. I pull out my key and smirk when it doesn’t fit. She actually had the locks changed.
How cute.
I take out one of my scalpels and am working the lock when a woman clears her throat behind me. I look over my shoulder at the petite blond-haired lady whose eyebrows are raised.
“Who are you?” she asks accusingly. I suppose this might look bad, not that I give a fuck.
“I’m Romi’s roommate, and you are?” I ask as the door clicks open.
“Oh, she didn’t mention she had a new roommate.” Her frown deepens. “I’m her agent. I’ve been trying to get ahold of her, with no luck.”
“Tell me about it,” I say as I push open the door and collect the roses from the ground.
Borris's little tail wags as he follows me, and I cast a glance around the living room, my eye twitching because of the fucking dump it’s become.
Since I’ve been gone, it doesn’t even look like she’s taken the trash out once.
I do, however, feel smug when I see the oversized llama statue in the corner of the room. I place the roses on the counter and peek into her room. Nope, not there, but her clothes are all over the floor. My eye twitches again.
“Is Romi here?” the woman calls out.
I’d forgotten all about her, too preoccupied with where the fuck my woman is.
“No, she’s not. Remind me what you do for her again,” I say, coming out of her room, and picking up items left in spots they shouldn’t be.
I glance at Borris, who gives me a pleading look with those big, brown eyes.
Fuck, I’m such a sucker for the little guy now, if only because he’s an extension of her.
I go to the cupboard, grabbing out the biggest treat I can find. I make mental notes of what else I need to stock up on. Which isn’t much, except Borris’s food, which means she hasn’t been eating again.
“I’m her agent. I was on the phone with her earlier, but she hung up on me. I don’t suppose she’s spoken to you about her recent collection, has she?”
I finally face the woman. I know Romi is a pretty well-known artist. I’ve stalked her social media ever since the day I moved in. From what I’ve seen, however, she has no upcoming events or tours.
“No, she hasn’t.”
“She has an event coming up that will be premiering her new collection, but she hasn’t shown me an update on any pieces, and I’m worried that maybe she hasn’t worked on anything since her roommate passed away.”
“So?”
The woman’s jaw drops. “What do you mean 'so'? She’s at the peak of her career. We signed this contract over a year ago and—”
“Her friend died,” I say point-blank. “She’s doing her best, and if she can’t manage it, then it means she’s only human. I doubt she’s thinking about money right now, but I’m sure it’s your job to think about that on her behalf.”
The woman looks flabbergasted. “It’s her reputation as well.”
“I doubt Romi has ever given a fuck what anyone thinks. If she wants to reach you, she’ll call you. Until then, let her process it in her own time.”
“I’m just doing my job,” the woman says, quieter now.
“And I only care about her well-being,” I say matter-of-factly, finding irony in the way I first came in here, wanting to break her.
But that’s for me to do, no one else. Especially under the pretense of "work.
" No one gets to put my woman under that kind of pressure unless she applies it to herself.
I understand there are other things at play here. The comments on her social media implying Romi had something to do with a friend's death because her deceased roommate's mother was barking madness at the funeral and accusing her of being the reason her daughter is dead.
I’m sure all of these things impact her agent's job in preserving Romi’s reputation, but I won’t let it be used as another weight or catalyst to push her if she’s not yet ready to produce art. Or maybe I’m a selfish bastard because I don’t want to share her time.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, unless you have any other matters to address, I have some laundry to do.” I get busy making this apartment livable again. Okay, maybe it’s not that dirty, but it’s certainly not to my standard, and I won't let her live in a dumpster like this either.
Her agent doesn’t seem to know what to do, but finally says, “I do care about her, which is why I came to check up on her. Can you please tell her I dropped by?”
“Sure,” I reply, not looking her way as I pat Borris, who’s happily chewing away on a bone and freezes the moment he thinks I might steal it away from him. Little shit.
She lets herself out, and that’s when I notice the door to the upstairs is open.
Curiosity, as it always does, gets the better of me, and I walk up to her studio.
I lean against the doorframe, impressed by the chaotic mess of the room, caused by what I assume was most certainly someone having a breakdown. And I’d bet my last dollar it was Romi.
This space feels like a part of Romi I haven’t touched yet.
There are so many layers to this woman, each unwrapping like a gift.
“The door shouldn’t be unlocked, but whatever,” I hear Romi say as she enters the apartment. And then I hear the muffled tone of a man's voice. My blood turns ice cold as Borris barks, and Romi shushes him.
“Ahh, nice roses?” the guy says.
Romi hiccups, and I know without a doubt she’s drunk. I consider making my presence known, but instead kick back, curious as to what little game she’s up to.
If anything, it looks like she’s up to the same game she’s always been playing. Running away from her demons by using someone to fill the void. Except now, she’s not entitled to other players on the board—only me.
Her silence would ordinarily bring a smirk to my face, knowing most likely she’s realized I’ve been in our apartment for the personal delivery of the roses. I doubt, however, she thinks I’m still here.
I love disrupting her, especially in a situation like right now.
“I just need to go to the bathroom, really quickly,” Romi says, excusing herself.
“This looks like a cozy bed,” the man calls out, evidently entering her room. And it's that that has me descending the stairs, because I’ve heard enough. My blood boils at even the thought of another man touching her, and perhaps I hadn’t made my intentions clear with her, so I’ll only say it once.
When I round the corner, Borris is growling at the strange man from his spot on the sofa, and I make a mental note to buy him all the fucking treats.
The man's back is to me, and I quietly wrap my fingers around the glass vase I’d pulled out only minutes ago for the roses, except now it has a much better purpose.
“Your dog doesn’t seem too friendly, though,” he says.
“That’s because he doesn’t like you, dipshit,” I growl from behind him. Before he has the chance to turn around, I break the vase over the back of his head. The glass shatters, and he falls forward.
Borris jumps back and continues barking at the man, who tries to stand unsteadily.
The bathroom door swings open, and Romi’s face is an angry shade of red. “What the actual fuck, Dante! What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”
“Our apartment,” I correct her. “And I’m not a fan of sleepovers.”
I turn the man to face me so I can get a good look at him, then shove him back down to the floor into the glass. “This guy? Really?” I point at him accusingly. What a fucking downgrade.
She’s furious, waves of palpable rage rolling off her, stirring my blood and making my cock twitch.
“You’re so fucking crazy! What, were you standing outside the door and listening or something?”
“I was simply waiting for my invitation, and that offer still stands.” I arch an arrogant eyebrow. "But you're not fucking around with this asshole.”
I walk toward him, but Romi’s quick to step in between us. I don’t like the way she fucking defends him. It only further sours my mood.
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but who I fuck is of no concern to you.”
“It has everything to do with me. I don’t know if I made myself clear, but just because you wanted to play a little cat-and-mouse game by kicking me out doesn’t change my intentions toward you, Cattivella.
As for this less-than-average-looking man, you can throw him out within the next thirty seconds, or I’ll kill him and dispose of the body. ”
I begin to count back from thirty.
“Are you fucking crazy?!” she whisper-shouts.
“Try me. Twenty-five. Twenty-four.”
The man is moaning and groaning as he crawls toward the door. At least he’s a wise man, even while disoriented. She watches him, her mouth agape. Once he’s out, I slam the door shut behind him, and her eyes go wide.
“What is wrong with you?!” She hiccups.
When I step into her space, I can smell the vodka, but I know that’s not the only influence she’s under tonight. This seems to be a part of her avoidance pattern, one I’ve become very accustomed to.
“You’re not allowed to be here! I kicked you out!” she screams, shoving me. I barely take a step back, and she shoves me again. I let her push me again and again, seeing that scared, angry little animal inside of her crying out in pain.
It taunts my own demon. Except, where I might’ve once wanted to wind her up while she’s in episodes like this, I now want to be the calm to her storm. There’s an invisible string between us that continues drawing us to one another, and I’m just waiting until she admits noticing it herself.
She shoves at me again, and my cock twitches, excited by her punishment and the way her gaze sears me.
“I haven’t been absent for that long, and look at what mischief you get up to without me here, Cattivella. It would appear I should watch you more carefully.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been watching me. Every. Single. Day.”
I smirk, pleased that she noticed me, just as I’d hoped. Outside of my work, I was orbiting around her. How could she not notice my obsession?
“You don’t own me. I can’t believe you just threw my hookup out the door.” She begins to tear at her hair.
“You didn’t want to fuck him,” I say as I slide into her space, forcing her back against the wall and threading my fingers through her hair to tilt her face up to mine.
She takes in a sharp breath, and I can’t help but graze my nose against her throat and along her neck, embracing the scent of her that I’ve missed this past week.
This woman is definitely furthering my insanity. “Did you?”
“Whatever was between us is done.” She breathes hard as her gaze meets mine. I rub my nose against hers, smirking as her body syncs with mine so naturally, even she can’t deny how perfectly she was crafted for me.
“On the contrary. Everything we’ve done before was only foreplay, sweetheart.”
Her gaze drops to my lips, and I can’t help but smile, because I know for a fact she's interested in me. It’s only that scathing little mouth that gets in the way, and yet it’s my favorite part about her.
“You get cocky when we fuck,” she berates, and I feel like I’ve already won. Especially considering she’s no longer trying to shove me away.
“That’s the part you like about me the most. I’m not sharing you anymore. Do you understand?”
She scoffs but doesn’t look away. “I don’t belong to you, Dante Moretti.” I love the way my name rolls off her lips, dripping in venom. “I don’t like any part of you. That’s why I kicked you out.”
My smirk only widens. “Then explain to me why that little cunt of yours is needily grinding against me.”
Her gaze rapidly scans mine, her breath becoming short and choppy.
I want to know what’s running through that busy mind of hers, and what the trigger was to make her drown herself at the bottom of a bottle again.
But I know trapping this little beast is a delicate matter, letting the wounded animal come to me only when she feels safe.
As safe as anyone could feel in my presence, anyway.
She brushes her lips against mine, taking me by surprise. From the moment I met her, Romi has shunned intimacy. So have I, but I've been willing to take whatever she’ll give me.
Suddenly, her hand rises between us, and she shoves my face away. “I think you should leave.”
It’s refreshing, really, how much she rejects me. And yet I’m smiling like a fool.
My cock presses painfully against my pants, and I make a point to adjust myself in front of her. She licks her bottom lip, and I know this is only a song and dance. One that I’m happy to play along with for as long as she thinks she can get away with it.
“Good night, Cattivella. Did you receive the toys I sent you? Think of me as you use them on yourself tonight,” I say with an arrogant smirk, then give Borris a quick scratch on the head, rewarding him for being my comrade in shooing the other fucker out.
“I threw them out, you pig,” Romi calls out behind me.
I look over my shoulder, smiling. “No, you didn’t. They’re all in the box on my bed. Don’t tell me you’re into sniffing my sheets. That’s just sickening.”
Her jaw drops, and I chuckle as I go to close the door behind me, but then I remember something. “Oh, your agent was here this evening, said she was worried about an upcoming collection you haven’t completed yet. Let me know if you need to paint me like a French girl anytime soon.”
The bouquet of roses is aimed at my head, and I chuckle as I close the door just in time to hear them thud against it.
Later that night, I whistle a cheery tune as I follow the droplets of blood down the stairs, beginning my hunt for the guy I threw out of the apartment. Because there’s no fucking way I’m letting any man live after he’s touched what is mine.