Chapter 29
DANI
My first day alone, and though its nice outside, the sun is shining, there’s a chill in the air.
I like this apartment block, and that it belongs just to the Knights and no one else. Dexter mentioned that it was only for him, Jett and Zach. I wonder where the others live. I’ve seen the swimming pool, gym and jacuzzi on the ground floor, and hope to go there one of the mornings.
Dexter and I barely speak. He ordered take out last night and I had a shower, unpacked, and went to bed. I was exhausted from the trip, the traveling, the changing time zones, and emotionally drained from this charade we’re acting out.
We move around each other in the apartment like strangers, polite but distant. Dexter’s walls are up, hard as steel, impenetrable, and the only way I can deal with this, with him, is to leave him be.
I worked all day, because there was so much to catch up on. As soon as I logged on, I was inundated with hundreds of congratulatory emails from coworkers, and friends. Many of my colleagues commented on how handsome Dexter is and what a beautiful couple we make. The photos have already been splashed around online, and have also appeared in some celebrity magazines.
Curious, I go online and search our names. A plethora of images come up. I gaze at them for longer than is good for me and I must admit, Dexter and I look good together. A photo from our wedding day catches my eye. Dexter is looking at me, and my heart stops, because his gaze is serious, but weighted by something heavier, something deeper. He’s really looking at me. Almost like he’s in love with me.
I force myself to get to work, and later go out for a walk nearby, past cobblestone streets, shiny sleek glass storefronts, and the kind of stylish locals who look like they belong in magazines. The city buzzes around me, but I feel strangely out of place. Feeling a little homesick, and missing my mother’s cooking, I decide to make something simple but familiar for dinner. Dexter can get takeout and go out, but I like to cook and I yearn for home cooked food. Food I long for.
But as I leave the supermarket, I notice people beginning to stare at me, and it leaves me feeling self-conscious and awkward. When I look over my shoulder, a man with a camera is following me, and now I feel hounded. A little scared, too. I rush on ahead, almost speed walking, and the whole way back to our apartment, I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t following me. I only felt relieved when I saw our friendly concierge.
Making dinner later that evening takes my mind off the stalker, and my uneasy feelings.
The kitchen fills with the aroma of rice, beans and steak. I bought a steak for Dexter, in case he wanted some, but I’m not betting on it. Nor am I waiting for him, like the dutiful wife, who has nothing better to do than to serve her husband.
We aren’t that couple, and I’m not that kind of wife.
I’m at the stove, stirring the beans when Dexter walks in. He sniffs loudly. “You ordered takeout. Smells good.”
The audacity. I pretend to be outraged, because his mood seems lighter, and I like this version of him compared to grumpy Dexter.
“I cooked this with my own two hands, thank you very much.” He leans in, inspecting my plate like it’s a business contract. “Rice. Steak. What are those?” He jabs a thick finger at my beans.
“Black beans, cooked with garlic and onion, olive oil and a bay leaf. It’s a simple dish.”
He eyes the food. “Huh.” Our faces are so close, I catch a whiff of his cologne before he walks away, loosening his tie.
“Want some, darling ?” I ask, still stirring the pot, and pretending to be the dutiful wife.
“It smells pretty damned good.” I hear his raspy voice behind me, and startle. I feel something on my neck. Not a touch, but something .
Did he just sniff me there?
Or is he talking about me ?
Maybe I’m going insane, being cooped up here alone all day, reliving our sizzling moments and wishing they were real.
“Thank you.” I start to plate up my food. He doesn’t move, and instead looks at me, like he’s waiting for something. “Are you going out or ordering takeout?”
“Wasn’t planning to. I was going to eat in tonight, seeing that it’s our first day back.”
My heart lights up like a lamp. Why does this simple little thing make me so happy? “I made some for you, in case you wanted it.”
“You made some for me?” He looks shocked, like this is a big thing. Someone making him dinner. Piecing together these little insights into Dexter’s life make my heart ache.
“It’s easier to cook for two. I just had to buy an extra steak. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll plate your food, too.”
“You don’t have to do that.” He cocks his head, looks at me as if I’ve slaved over the stove for six hours making a five-course meal.
“I made extra, Dexter, and I’m glad you’re hungry, and brave enough to try it.”
“It looks and smells out of this world. Thank you.”
“It’s my world. I hope you like it.”
We sit across the table, steam rolling off the plates. This is nice and familiar. Homey. Something I could get used to. He picks up his fork and takes a bite, then chews, and pauses. His brows lift a little as he savors the food. I wait with bated breath. Desperate for a good reaction.
“Well?”
He swallows, nods, sets his fork down and fixes me with a serious look. “This is a typical Brazilian dish?”
He doesn’t like it. “A simple one, but yes.”
He leans back in his chair, nodding slowly, before taking up his fork again. “I have no idea why you ever left.”
“You like it?” I ask, sounding like he did when he wanted my reaction on the green room.
He takes another bite, chewing with a thoughtful expression. “I’m not saying I’d fire my private chef over it, but … yeah. It’s good. Comforting.”
I mock gasp. “Good? Comforting?” I hold a hand to my chest. “Such high praise. I’m honored.”
He grins. “Don’t get used to it, amor. At least it’s edible.”
He called me amor. He’s also playing the part, I remind myself. Then, “Edible?” I cry. He seems to really like it, because he’s wolfing it down, and that makes me happy.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he says, before stealing a bite from my plate.
***
By the end of the week, Dexter and I have fallen into some sort of routine. He’s been out the last few evenings, and that made me sad. I didn’t question where he went but I didn’t like being left alone.
Being with this man is like a roller-coaster ride, and I’ve resigned myself to the fate of just going along with it. Taking the highs and the lows, while somehow trying to be emotionally detached.
When Cari texted me asking me to come to The Living Room, the café where she’s opened her little flower shop, I jumped at the chance.
She greets me warmly as soon as she sees me. Too warmly, given that most of our interactions have been formal so far.
“I’m so glad you came,” she says, ushering me over to a table. “I’m mostly at Jett’s apartment now, and I know we’re both in the same apartment block, but I thought it would be nice to catch up, just the two of us.”
“I prefer this,” I tell her, looking around. “This is a lovely place.”
“Thank you.”
I immediately fall in love with this place. It’s filled with bookshelves, and has a quiet and cozy ambiance. People around me are sitting and reading, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air. We sit at a table, drinking coffee and eating pastries and every so often Cari gets up and serves a customer.
“How long have you had it?” I ask her.
“Only a few months.” She tells me how it came to be, and in the telling of her story, I find out about the tragic news about her mom, and how this flower shop came to be.
“I’m so sorry about your mom.” I want to throw my arms around her and comfort her, like I would Raquel, but I don’t feel that we have that type of relationship. Not yet. Though I can already see that Cari is lovely and warm, and loyal. I’m glad she’s here. Not just because it’s good to have another woman in the Knight world, but because I could do with a friend.
“You okay?” she asks, when I fall silent.
I smile, keeping my voice light. “I’m fine. Actually, Cari, there’s ... there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Oh?”
It’s been weighing on my mind for a while now. Now that I’m a part of this family, whatever that means, I feel I owe Cari an explanation. “It’s about ... the alliance” I say, tentatively. “This marriage of convenience.”
She looks immediately concerned. “Things are okay, aren’t they? Between you and Dex?”
I flap my hand dismissively. “Yes, yes.” I feel like I’m starting to blush.
“Because that kiss, after that dance, at your wedding reception ...” Cari fans her face with her hand, signaling heat. “It was scorching hot! It looked so real . You’re both such good actors.” She lowers her voice and looks. “Because everyone in that room bought it. The romance, the sizzle, the passion. Even I did, and I know the truth.”
I blink a few times, remembering that night. The memories come flooding back, but I push them away. It’s not good to dwell on things that can never be. “I wanted to talk about Jett,” I say. Cari looks puzzled. “Nothing ever happened. We never even got talking. We were never in touch. You’ve been so kind to me, so graceful, and many women in similar positions wouldn’t have been, and I just wanted to explain things.”
Cari’s expression turns soft, her eyes fill with understanding. “You don’t have to explain, Dani. May I call you Dani, or do you prefer Daniela?”
I smile. “Dani.” I lean in. “I want to explain. I just need to say it. It was never romantic. It never even got off the ground. I never knew, neither did my father, that Jett and you were together—”
“It’s not your fault,” she rushes to console me. “Paul Knight pushed for that deal. Not Jett.”
“Even so, with his father pushing, I just want you to know that Jett and I have never communicated. You both make such a lovely couple, and such a lovely family.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear, blushing. “Thank you. He makes me so happy. And Brooke. It all feels so natural, like it was meant to be. Please don’t stress about the alliance. I know you had nothing to do with it.” She smiles at me. “How are things working out with you and Dex?”
How do I answer such a question? I don’t even try. I flash a smile. “He’s been working a lot, so ... I don’t see him much.”
I catch a faint glimpse of surprise on her face, before she hides it. “They’re Knights. They like their legacy. But how are you ? It must be daunting being away from everything you’re used to.”
“It’s not easy leaving my family and friends and my way of life as I knew it.”
“It’s a brave thing you’re doing.” She looks at me, but doesn’t push.
“I’m doing it for my family …” I hesitate.
She reaches for my hand. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
I nod. We talk about the wedding, about my life in Brazil, and, because it’s so obvious, and hanging in the air, I tell her a little about the honeymoon. I mention how Dexter was busy working, and I was busy reading and relaxing. I don’t talk about the kiss, or the hot tub, or how he’s put distance between us now that we’re back.
“Dex doesn’t bite, even if he acts like he might,” she says. “He can come across as rough around the edges, almost as if he doesn’t care. I thought he was like that, but he’s got such a good heart.”
I don’t know why she’s telling me this, why she thinks I need to hear it. But I appreciate it.
“I should go,” I tell her. “I have something to finish before we wrap up for the weekend.”
“You’re working?”
“Yes. I deal with brand and strategy. Communications and all that, and luckily, I can work remotely. We can have meetings online. It hasn’t proved to be a great disruption, so far.”
“We’ll have to get together again,” she says, when I get up to leave.
“We will. I could do with a friend in this corner of the world.”
She takes both my hands in hers and presses them lightly. “You’re not alone. If you need anything, or want to talk about anything, you just call me.”
I hug her this time, because it feels right to do so. By the time I leave, I feel a little happier, and not so lonely anymore. I can always come down here if I need some female company. I step outside, pulling my coat tighter around me, as I wave down a cab.
Then, it happens.
A hand yanks at my bag, but I don’t let go.
My adrenaline spikes sky high. I turn sharply, yanking back. A tall, built guy tries to pull me toward him, but I react fast, the way I was trained. My instincts kick in and I shove a sharp elbow to his ribs, I barely register my funny bone stinging with the impact, before I land him a powerful, well-placed at the perfect spot between his legs.
He grunts, staggering, but doesn’t go down. Instead, he reacts violently, shoving me hard with one arm as he clutches himself with the other. I stumble backward, off balance, my face smacking the edge of a parked car’s side mirror. Pain shoots across my mouth as metal grazes skin and I taste blood, sharp and metallic. A line of heat cuts across my upper lip, and I feel the sting, the warmth, and the wetness.
“Filho da puta,” I mutter, wiping at the blood. But he’s limping away. Defeated. Passersby gawk at me, and I stumble a few steps, my breath shaky, my heart pounding. At least my bag is still in my hands. He didn’t get to take it.
I take a steadying breath, hailing a cab again, and when it comes, a few seconds later, I get in.
What I don’t do is call Dexter.
***
DEX
What the ever-loving fuck?
My wife has been attacked, and the only reason I find out is because Jett told me. And the only reason he found out is because Cari’s customers were talking about a woman getting attacked outside the café. The description of the woman matched Daniela’s, and Cari got worried. She called Daniela, but when she couldn’t get ahold of her, she got extremely worried, and called Jett.
I rush home immediately when my calls to Daniela go unanswered. I pray it’s not her, but it terrifies me all the same.
I slam the door open, pulse hammering, wondering what I’ll find. Insidious thoughts have run rampant in my mind which fills with images of a battered Daniela.
When I charge into the living room, she looks up, startled. She’s sitting on the couch, holding an ice pack to her swollen lip. My gaze locks on her face and my gut turns to steel when I see the blood.
It is her.
“Who the fuck hurt you?” My voice is sharp, too sharp, but I don’t care. I rush to her side, my hands reaching for her face.
“How did you find out?” Surprise lights up her face, then disappears quickly.
“Cari’s customers. She’s been trying to get a hold of you. I have, too.”
“Sorry. I was in a meeting. I had my phone on mute and—”
“Doesn’t matter.” My hands are already on her jaw, tilting her chin up. Assessing the damage. “You should’ve called me.” Her upper lip is cut badly. There’s blood on the tissues scattered around her on the sofa.
“You didn’t have to rush home for me, Dexter.” Her tone is light and casual. Like what happened to her is the most normal thing.
“Yeah, I did.” She’s in shock. My fingers brush her chin, and my thumb hovers to the side of her lip. Fuck. She has a cut, just on the upper lip. “He cut you.”
“It’s nothing,” she whispers.
“It’s not nothing.”
“It looks worse than it is.”
“That sonofabitch.” My adrenaline spikes. She’s my wife, and I wasn’t even around to protect her. This happened on my watch, and it should never have happened. Ever. Whoever did this to my wife is going to pay. I’m ready to hunt the fucker down, but first I need to make sure Daniela’s okay. I grimace at the sight of her beautiful lip, tracing my thumb gingerly over her cut, wanting to kiss it better. She winces and something deep in my chest tightens.
“I’m fine, Dexter. I handled it, I told you.”
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
She shakes her hand but my hand stays steady on her.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
“I’ll try not to.” She giggles.
“It’s not a laughing matter. You’re the victim of a mugging.”
“He didn’t take anything.”
“The fucker tried. Tell me what happened.”
She does, reciting it like it’s the most boring piece of news she has for me.
“Unfuckingbelievable.” My blood boils. Daniela is my responsibility. She’s my wife. I’m supposed to protect her and I let her down. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”
“It’s not your fault, Dexter. I’m not hurt.”
“Your lip is cut. It’s bleeding. You’ll have a scar. I’ll get my assistant to set up a meeting with a plastic surgeon tomorrow.”
She roars with laughter. That same rich, vibrant laugh I’ve heard before. “You will do no such thing, Dexter. If this leaves a scar, I really don’t care. I’ll wear it like a badge of pride.”
I shake my head, staring at her in disbelief, trying to understand her reaction. How this is no big deal to her. It’s a big fucking deal. My wife was attacked, and I wasn’t around to protect her. Rage courses through my veins and I feel the urge to punch the wall.
Daniela points to her lip. “This wasn’t him. I hit the side of a car wing mirror. But you should see the guy.” Her face lights up, like she’s telling me a funny story. “I elbowed him in the ribs and kicked him between the legs.” She looks gleeful, but it does nothing to assuage my guilt or worry. This could have been so much worse. Someone could have kidnapped her, stabbed her. Shot her.
“I failed you.”
She dismisses my comment with a wave of her hand, and a giggle. “How? I’m a black belt in jiu-jitsu. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“You’re my wife.”
She sits up, blinking at me. As if my words don’t make sense. We’re husband and wife on paper, but right now, she’s my wife for real. She’s someone I care about.
“I’ll be right back.” I rush to get my first aid kit, then come back, with a sterile wipe with which I clean her wound gently. She watches me the entire time, saying nothing.
“You need a security detail,” I mutter more to myself than to her. “I should have thought about this before.” I’ve overlooked the most basic and most important thing of all. We all have bodyguards. They’re discreet and invisible. We don’t need all need our individual ones when we’re together, like we were for the wedding in Brazil. But Daniela clearly needs her own detail for when she goes out.
I’m sure Jett must have provided something for Cari because people can get to us through those we love. I make a note to deal with this straightaway.
Of course, the news spreads. The police weren’t involved, but the media picked it up because people recorded it and when they found out who Daniela was, my wife, the media outlets got interested.
My father calls, and he’s livid. He must answer to Daniela’s parents. I do, too. Later that evening Jett, Cari, Brooke and Zach all come over, bearing flowers and chocolates and magazines for Daniela, who beams and looks so happy. She has to recite her ordeal all over again. Then Rio calls, and has a word with her and then he puts Matteo and Enzo on the line, too.
I’m a little overwhelmed by all this attention, and a part of me wonders if the Italian Knights are going along with the act, pretending we’re all family and showing concern for Daniela who has married into it.
She’s an innocent bystander in this warped family.
But maybe, despite everything, we are a family?