49. Juliette
Juliette
I had always known Dante DiLustro was fucking crazy.
My tears forgotten, I jumped out of bed, still dressed in the same clothes, shoes included, and strode to my husband.
“Are you fucking nuts?” I shouted, my palms against his chest and shoving at him. He was all hard muscle and towering over me. I didn’t let that deter me. “Did I stutter when I said go away?”
His eyes glinted with something dark.
“When I’m checking on you, you open the fucking door,” he said, his voice deep and angry. “Understood?”
I glared at him. “Fuck you, Dante. Don’t think for a second you get to show up here after the shit you’ve done and I’ll be all welcoming.” I pushed against his chest. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
“Not until you tell me why you were crying.”
“I wasn’t,” I said defensively. “I was sleeping. At least I was trying to, until your crazy ass slammed through the door.”
He raised his hand and I flinched, but all he did was run a thumb over my cheek, smearing the wet tears. He cupped my face gently, forcing our gazes to lock. His shimmering like a night sky and mine a teary one.
I couldn’t handle this shit right now. I couldn’t stand his touch, so I shoved his hand away. “Don’t.”
This time he flinched. Raw pain slashed across his beautiful face and speared me through the chest. I ignored it, telling myself I didn’t give two fucks.
He’d broken my trust. He betrayed me.
He took a step back, stuffing his hands in the pockets of that signature three-piece suit. His brows were drawn tight over those dark, tired eyes. Stubble shadowed his cheeks and jaw. It must have been there this morning, but I was so pissed off, I’d failed to notice it. He didn’t shave.
“Can we talk? I want to—” He paused, his throat flexing with a hard swallow. “I don’t have an excuse, but at least I can explain what happened that night.”
A raspy laugh tore from my throat. “You want to explain? A bit late, don’t you think?”
I hated to admit that his betrayal slashed me deep. It was worse because I had started to trust him. To like him. To lo—
I shook my head. No! That was going a step too far.
“Yes, I should have told you sooner,” he stated calmly, his jaw ticking. His eyes grew darker, into unnerving obsidian. “Please let me explain.”
I sighed. I was tired. I didn’t want to argue, and truthfully, I wanted to know what occurred that night, if only to fill in the gaps from my memory. But I wouldn’t forgive.
“Okay.” Relief washed over his face and he tilted his chin toward the couch. “We should sit down.”
My eyes flickered to the door that hung off the hinge. “First have that damn door fixed,” I told him. “I’m not spending a night in this suite with the door wide open.”
He pulled the phone out of his pocket and typed a message. “Someone will fix it tonight.”
We walked deeper into the suite and I sat down on the couch. He took a seat on the chair.
“I love you, Juliette.” The dark timbre of his voice sent shivers rippling down my spine.
I didn’t want to hear those words. They didn’t fix his betrayal.
“I wanted you from the moment I saw you on top of that bar in that ridiculous orange dress. Then you bumped into me in Chicago and our lives became intertwined.” His breathing was sharp and his scent wrapped around me.
“The more you fought me, the harder I fell.”
His words sent me spiraling. All of it was ridiculous. “So it’s my fault. I wouldn’t fall into your arms so you… what? Took matters into your own hands?”
“No. I waited, Juliette. I fucking waited.” He reached inside his suit and pulled out a stack of letters.
They were neatly wrapped with a band. He handed them to me.
“I waited for you to come around. For you to see that we were meant to be. Otherwise, why would destiny keep bringing us back together? First, that little girl with the ridiculous Victoria’s Secret bags. ”
My heart drummed against my ribs. He remembered. He recognized me! Paralyzed by shock, my images of that night in the alley scattered through my mind.
They flashed like a camera. Click. Click. Click.
My dream—memory—came back to me and pain slashed through me. The same scent. The same dark eyes. How did I not see it sooner? The boy who saved me a decade ago. The boy who I promised I’d save.
He was Dante. Dante was him.
“It was you,” I murmured.
He nodded. “Why would we keep crossing paths? It had to mean something.”
“It’s a small world,” I stated, my voice slightly cracking. He’d saved me. I promised him that day that I’d save him. I hadn’t.
“I fucked up. But after waiting two years for you to see me—actually see me—I started to lose hope.” His breaths were heavy with regret.
“I had my heart set on you since I met you as a grown woman. Yes, I made a mistake, and I am sorry. For betraying your trust. For not doing the right thing. For not waiting another two years.”
A dull ache formed behind my temples, refusing to recede.
I met his obsidian gaze and I knew he saw my decision because he closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them, there was raw pain in them.
“I would have forgiven you anything, Dante.” My voice broke. “Anything but this.”
Dante exhaled a shuddering breath, his face taut with emotion. Vulnerability. For some stupid reason, I hated seeing the hurt on his face. He reached out, offering me the stack of letters.
“Read them,” he said, exhaling one final shuddering breath. “I’ll wait for you.” His raw whisper clawed at my heart, fresh wounds bleeding out. “I’ll wait for as long as it takes, Wildling. But I’m not letting go.”
He turned to leave, making his way out of the hotel suite he’d paid for. Once by the doorframe, he leaned against it and folded his arms.
He added softly, “I’ll never let go, Juliette. You’re mine. You’ve been mine your whole life.”
Then he leaned back against the doorframe and closed his eyes. I waited and waited, but eventually his breathing evened out and it looked like he’d fallen asleep.
“What are you doing?” I asked, frowning.
He never opened his eyes. “Guarding your door.”
Flabbergasted, I stared at him, almost expecting him to give me that smirk and tell me he was just joking. It never came.
“Go to sleep, Wildling,” he said, never opening his eyes.
I lay back down, closing my eyes and gripping the letters he had given me. They burned in the palm of my hand, but I refused to open them. I wanted to wait until I was alone.
The events of the day flashed through my mind, mixing with those images from ten years ago. The ones I tried so desperately to forget. They both started with a dance and ended—
I cut off the direction those thoughts were heading. I couldn’t deal with it.
Not tonight. Not ever.
Squeezing my eyelids tightly, I tried to focus on my breathing. In and out. In and out.
I must have dozed off because my mind wandered off into forbidden territory.
“Something is wrong with this bitch,” Travis said, laughing at my body that refused to move. I wanted to scream, thrash, and claw. But my muscles failed me. I lay there, wishing I were unconscious.
“What?” Brandon asked. I didn’t even know him, but he’d get to know me really well one day, when I killed him.
“She’s not crying or begging,” Travis hissed, then slapped me across the cheek. “Why isn’t she screaming?”
Not a single sound left my lips, although a solitary tear rolled down my cheek.
They didn’t even bother to restrain me, knowing whatever drug they slipped me would render me immobile.
Travis straddled me and I tried to retreat into my mind where I couldn’t hear their voices. Where I couldn’t feel them touching me.
“Hold this bitch down,” Travis ordered.
“Why? She’s not even fighting,” Sam questioned.
It didn’t matter, because Sam ended up doing whatever his despicable friend ordered him to do. He was weak like that.
Then Travis lay on top of me, his heavy body suffocating me.
He laughed. They laughed. My screams rattled around in my head—I couldn’t breathe. Darkness swallowed me, a vise around my chest preventing air from entering my lungs.
I jerked violently awake, a cold sweat slicking my skin and beading across my brow. My body shook. My lips trembled. I raised my hand, noting a bad tremor as I wiped my palm over my eyes.
My eyes darted around the room until they landed on Dante studying me with a clenched jaw and a frown. His muscles bulged as if fighting his instinct to prowl through the room and toward me.
Before he could do that, I lay back down and turned my back to him.
The nightmares were back.
* * *
The next morning, I woke up to an awful grinding noise.
Glancing at the clock, six a.m. stared back at me. I shifted on the bed, burying my head under my pillow. I needed to mute all these sounds so early in the morning.
Footsteps sounded against the floor. Firm. Heavy. Familiar.
“You’re awake.” Dante’s deep voice came from somewhere near.
“And you’re still here,” I grumbled. “What the fuck? It’s six in the morning.”
“The door’s getting fixed.”
I couldn’t believe the man stayed here all night. I slept restlessly without his heat around me, and each time I woke up, I couldn’t keep my eyes from darting toward the door. Dante was still there, in the same position. It was kind of eerie that he hadn’t moved.
But I didn’t offer to let him sleep in the bed with me. Instead, the letters he gave me lay next to me.
“I got you some coffee,” he added, his voice a warm timbre, clouding my senses. I ignored it. “It’s the way you like it.”
I groaned. I didn’t want him to be nice or thoughtful. He fucking drugged me. I wanted to murder him, not drink the coffee he bought me.
Rising into a sitting position, I begrudgingly took the offered coffee. A travel cup with a Starbucks sleeve around it so I wouldn’t burn my fingers.
“You went to Starbucks?” I questioned, narrowing my eyes on him. The two men struggled on the other end of the suite to set the door on its hinges. The accusation was clear. He left me alone with two strangers.