Chapter 12
DANTE
I’m an absolute dick. I hurt her, and I hate myself for doing it. I’m stuck between two worlds. One where all I want is to repeat what we did by the pool and give in to the attraction, while the other stops me before I’m in too deep.
I stayed away from her after breakfast yesterday, spending most of the day in the office.
And today, it was pretty much the same. Now, I’m heading to Viper with Enzo to help him with some business, and I’m already late.
But the real reason I’m going is to avoid her.
Anything not to see that glimpse of anger combined with a bit of sadness on Raquel’s face. The same look I saw yesterday.
Why the hell did my life have to be so damn complicated? But I know I’m doing the right thing by my family.
I think.
“Fuck!” I grip the back of my neck in the elevator at work, making my way down to my car in the garage.
It’s killing me not to go home and throw her on the bed and apologize the right way. Man, I want her. The chemistry between us is worth exploring. If she were anyone else, not connected to the family I despise, I’d make her mine without a drop of hesitation.
Getting into my car, I drive a few miles to the club, knowing Enzo is already there, probably drunk or fucking someone in the bathroom.
But now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him do that shit the last few times we’ve gone out. Maybe he’s growing tired of it. I’m not a choir boy either, but I’m way more particular with who I stick my dick in. My baby bro is not that selective.
Parking the car, I make it past the long line of people waiting to get inside. The music booms from the open door while two bouncers check IDs in the front.
“Hey, Petey,” I call out to one, nodding my head in greeting.
“Hey, boss.”
I walk inside, where the smell of sweat and too much perfume invades my senses.
Why the hell am I even here? I should be home in bed with her instead.
I wonder what she’s doing. It’s not like I can pick up the phone and call her. I could call Lou, the main guard at the house, and ask for her, but what the fuck would I even say?
I head for the bar, ordering a whiskey neat and drowning in the burn flowing down my throat. As I stare at the dance floor, the people move to the beat, sandwiched between each other, not giving a shit about anything but the music. Unlike me, standing here thinking about a woman I shouldn’t want.
Turning back to the bar, I stop myself from ordering another, knowing I have to drive home. A hand clamps over my shoulder, and I’m about to bark at whoever it is, in no mood for some drunk-ass motherfucker, but I find Enzo there instead.
“Finally got here, huh? I already took care of everything, by the way!” he shouts over the music. “You’re welcome!”
“Great. Then I’m leaving.”
“What? Why? Have a few drinks.”
“I have a headache.”
He chuckles. “You don’t get headaches.”
I stare hard. “I do now.”
“Why are you really leaving?” There’s a knowing smile on his face that I want to wipe off.
“I don’t know.”
He shakes his head, amusement fitting his features. “Just go to her already.”
“How I feel about her is irrelevant.”
“Wow. So you didn’t even listen to a fucking word I said to you last time, did you?”
“I heard.” I grin.
“Man, you’re an idiot. If Joelle had a real thing for me, I’d go for it.”
“Are you saying you like her?” I jerk my head back. “You don’t like anyone.”
He flips me off, his mouth set tight. “You make me sound like a heartless asshole. Shit. I like people. I like you. Not right now, though.”
“Fuck you,” I chuckle. “You know what I mean. You told me you’re not getting serious until you’re at least forty.” I lean closer as the song changes to a louder one and the bass begins to pound under my feet. “What happened to that?”
“Joelle and I are never gonna happen, so that won’t be a problem.
” He stares past me contemplatively. “She’s the only one who’s gotten to me, even back when she’d dance for me at the club.
” He looks over at me again. “There was something about her. Something I wanted. And after everything between us, I knew I had to have her as soon as I saw her the night we burned down the strip club.”
I knew he liked her, but I didn’t realize how much.
“I enjoy getting under her skin,” he adds. “It’s so goddamn easy to provoke her.”
“You haven’t fucked her yet, have you? And you were giving me a hard time with Raquel?”
“Please.” He shrugs. “If I wanted her, I’d have her. But it’s complicated.”
He actually looks serious.
Shit. He’s got it bad.
I can’t picture him in love. I’m so used to seeing women hanging all over him, I’ve never imagined it ever being just one.
“All right. Well, I’m out,” I tell him. “Try not to catch any STDs tonight.”
“Yeah, go tend to your headache. Maybe she can stroke your pain away.” He smiles, looking proud of himself.
This time, I flip him off before walking back out of the club, pushing my way through people as I make it to the exit.
I say goodbye to the bouncers and head to my car, wondering if Raquel is in bed and if I’d be able to sneak inside and watch her sleeping, even for a moment.
I park the McLaren in the garage and climb out. The house appears quiet. It’s a little past midnight, so I’m sure she isn’t up. I slip my keys out of my pocket and open the door, hearing music coming from somewhere inside.
I turn, looking inquisitively at Elliot, one of my men. “Who the hell is here?”
“No one, sir.”
He shakes his head, looking slightly nervous, like he’s afraid I’ll fire him or something. He’s new, only a few months in, so I get why he’d be worried if he fucked up.
“Then what’s with the music? You guys throwing a party or something?” I laugh, but it never reaches my face.
“Nothing like that, sir.” He takes a step forward. “Miss Raquel wanted it on, and—”
“She’s up?” I interrupt, already marching toward the den.
Why would she be up so late? The need to see her, to…I don’t know what, because I’m supposed to be staying the hell away from her.
I’m a damn confused motherfucker.
Rounding the corner, I step into the room, expecting to see her on the sofa or something, but she’s nowhere near there.
Instead, I find her on top of my glass coffee table, a martini glass in her hand, bloodred liquid swaying in perfect rhythm to her hips.
Her eyes are closed as she dances barefoot, completely ignorant of me standing there. My jaw flexes.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snap. “Are you trying to get hurt up there?”
Her eyelids drift up as she registers my presence, and her gaze grows large before a huge smile crosses her face.
“Dante!” she slurs, grinning as though unable to rip the thrill from her face.
Her eyes are streaked red, matching that drink. It shouldn’t make me this damn happy to know how excited she is to see me, but it does.
“Are you drunk?” My voice slithers with irritation.
“No?” she giggles, taking the glass to her lips and downing the contents before looking back at me. “Maybe a little?”
What is she thinking? Why the hell would she get drunk all alone without me? These might be my men, but they’re still strangers and she’s a gorgeous woman—a drunk-as-fuck gorgeous woman. A woman I practically fucked in front of some of them.
The thought steels my cock. I want to repeat that again, except right here this time. If she were sober, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of her.
She’s damn sexy dancing up there. I should’ve been watching the cameras tonight. I can’t expect the men to call me just because she decided to fucking drink and dance in tiny jean shorts and a tight-ass shirt.
“How many drinks did you have?” I grate out, my palm itching to teach her a lesson.
“More…a lot. A few.” She giggles again like this is somehow funny, her feet unsteady as she shuffles around.
“Get your ass down here, Raquel. You’re about to fall right through the goddamn table.”
“I’mmm having bun.” Her eyes widen with a curl of her lips. “I meant fun.” She laughs hysterically.
“I’m putting you to bed. You’re drunk. Get down, or I’ll make you. You don’t want that.”
She frowns. “Mmm. Why so serious, husband? Maybe you want a dance?”
“No.” I tame my wild heart, wanting more than anything to flip her over my shoulder and bring her upstairs.
But instead, I wait to see where she plans to take this.
“That’s too bad, ’cause I feel like dancing again,” she says, drenched in sensuality.
The song changes, and her eyes lands on mine with a sultry expression. She doesn’t move at first. Her chest swells with harsh breaths while her eyes slide to my lips, and then lower until they land on my dick.
Fuck.
My cock jerks, needing more than just her eyes. Needing all of her. Those lips wrapped around it. That body, mine for the taking.
I can’t tear my attention away from her. I’m compelled to look into those large, hypnotizing eyes.
And then her body moves.
She sways her hips side to side, her gaze still locked on mine as she dips lower, her hand slinking down in between her tits.
Where the hell did she learn to move that way?
The empty martini glass rests in her hand as she gyrates. The lyrics of the song are pure sin; the thoughts of what I want to do to her are probably illegal.
She rights herself, her body unable to let go of the beat, drowning in the music as she gives me her back. Her long, black hair is up high in a ponytail I’d very much like to wrap around my wrist while ramming inside her from behind.
My hard-on throbs while I watch her, not wanting to disturb the sight before me. It’s like my own private show.
Her hands fall to her hips, slowly lifting the thin fabric of her black tank top up a little bit at a time, until my eyes fill with her bare skin.
She pulls it up higher, her bra strap visible now, right before she lets the shirt drift down to the floor.
I suck in a breath, my heart pounding in the wake of my hunger, the music sounding louder… or maybe it’s my own damn pulse.