CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ultimatum
Not this time, but I loved meeting you girls! (@deisebloombastic)
When I got home, I went straight to my room. My chest was heavy with the weight of a restless mind, running through so many scenarios they were starting to blur together.
I changed and went to bed. The day had been long, and all I wanted was to get at least a halfway decent night's sleep.
Snuggled in my sweatsuit, I closed my eyes, praying the image of Dante and Claire so close together wouldn't be burned into my eyelids.
“Of course it would be,” I grumbled, turning onto my side.
The thought of Dante spending his first night of freedom with someone like Claire was eating me alive—like a plague infesting my mattress.
The sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand broke the silence. Dante's name flashed on the glowing screen, and I pulled the phone to my ear.
“You, Helena. You were my number one plan. My first thought of freedom, long before I was officially free.” Dante's voice caught my heart mid-freefall.
My breath bounced off the phone screen, warming my flushed skin.
“You shouldn't say these things,” I murmured.
“If you're worried about what I say, you should see what I think.” His low, firm voice could have pierced my soul. “Besides, I can't help it. You keep me brutally honest.”
“Your absolute truth is still going to get us in trouble.”
“We're already in trouble, Helena. You just need to admit it out loud.”
“I'm trying to keep us on track.”
“And how do you think that's going?”
I took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling.
“I feel like I'm about to derail,” I admitted.
Dante laughed on the other end of the line, and if I closed my eyes, I could picture it perfectly.
“It shouldn't be this complicated, should it? None of this would have happened if I'd just kept my head down and stayed in my lane.”
“I'd be a condemned man if you had,” he sighed into my ear. “And I don't mean by any court of law. But you didn't, so where does that leave us now?”
“Teetering on the edge of the abyss,” I replied, nestling into the covers.
“Jump with me, Helena,” he whispered, and for an instant I let myself feel the breeze of the fall—my body cutting through the wind with a smile on my face and the uncertainty of how close we'd be to the bottom.
“You should try to sleep,” I said quietly, fighting against everything I wanted to say. “Good night, Dante.”
“Helena”
This time I was the one who ended the call first. It didn't matter how many lines I was willing to cross for Dante's case—risking my career over a moment of desire wasn't an option.
Women like me have our worth questioned just for existing.
Giving in to Dante would confirm everything they already think about us. I needed to pull back.
“Did you hear me?” My mother's voice pulled me back to reality.
My plate had gone cold, and for the past few minutes I'd been anywhere but my mother's dining room.
“What's going on? You're completely distracted.
I thought after winning in court you'd relax and take a few days off, but you won't put down that damn phone.”
My mother stood up, irritated, and collected our plates.
“I wasn't working, Mom,” I explained, getting up to help her. “I've been getting tons of messages and friend requests on social media. I was trying to delete them.”
Since Dante was released two days ago, the harassment from his fans has escalated to absurd levels, and I spend all day dodging them—online and in person.
I've even avoided going to cafés and turned down dinner with the girls last night because I knew this case would be all anyone wanted to talk about.
And honestly, I've been avoiding that conversation.
“I heard your client's fans have been gathering outside your office.”
“Yes. And my house.” I put the dishes in the dishwasher.
“What? That's dangerous. You should stay here.”
“Sure. My father would love for me to bring the Dantezetes here,” I mocked. “I can handle myself, Mom.”
“And what does your client think about this?”
“I haven't talked to him.”
I didn't answer when he called the day after our conversation.
I've been avoiding his messages, and when I do respond, I'm more formal than ever—as if keeping that distance could somehow protect me.
But still, it was like my body wanted to return to that rhythm of visits and letters.
To that suspended place where we'd existed for the past month, away from the real world.
“I think he should pay for security for you,” my mother grumbled. “I ran into his mother the other day, and she had security guards with her. If she knows she's not safe, what does that say about you?”
“It's not like he's a mobster, Mom,” I joked.
“But he got mixed up with the Darwins, honey. And the Darwins may not be mobsters, but they're always tangled up with shady people.”
In fact, every major family in Alta Ridge seems to have close ties with all sorts of people. The Petrovs themselves are known to be part of a dangerous scheme. But nobody has the guts to talk about it.
“Either way, I box and I have pepper spray in my purse. Nobody scares me.” I hugged Mom, trying to calm her down. The Dantezetes weren't a real problem for me. The same couldn't be said about their idol. He was a huge problem I'd have to deal with at some point.
After dinner with my mother, I went home and fortunately there was no sign of the girls at the door, though there were some of their gifts on my porch. I gathered the packages and went inside, leaving them on top of the pile of letters, teddy bears, and other goodies they'd left for Dante.
I changed into comfy sweats. I pinned my hair up and sat on the couch to watch my newly installed TV.
Over the past few days, I'd kept myself busy organizing the last boxes in the living room, and now I had at least one more room finished—even though I kept ignoring some boxes under the kitchen table.
My phone, resting on the newly assembled living room table, vibrated and his name flashed on the screen.
My heart skipped a beat like it always did.
I pulled the phone toward me and stared at the screen until it went dark.
I'd been avoiding his calls for days because whenever we talk, I can't control my reactions.
There's no time to sort through my thoughts before desire clouds them.
At some point I fell asleep, slipping into another one of the vivid dreams that had been haunting me for weeks. In tonight's nightmare, I faced the courtroom to the sound of boos and shouts of “slut” echoing through the courthouse doors and windows, while Dante was sentenced to life in prison.
I woke up sore and breathless, as always. On the TV, the app was asking if anyone was still watching. I gathered the pillows that had fallen on the floor and headed to the bedroom.
Staring at the phone screen in silence, I navigated to voicemail, where a notification alerted me to a new recording. I pressed it to my ear like an addict unable to resist the fix. I needed to hear him. To feel his voice wash over me and touch my soul.
“You know, Helena... I never thought it would be harder to find you as a free man than when I was in prison.” Dante's voice was low and muffled, as if he were in a tight space.
“I was trying to be a nice guy and let you figure out on your own that you can't run from me so easily, but I'm getting more impatient by the second. So consider the following options a courtesy, and choose wisely.”
I kept my eyes on the black rose while I savored his voice—the voice I'd missed these past few days.
“Option number one: I ignore the fact that you're clearly violating one of the most important clauses of our agreement if you come have dinner with me tomorrow so we can make some technical adjustments, Doctor.” I slid under the covers.
“Or you can try your luck with option two and test my patience a little longer to see how much of this little game I'll put up with.
Don't forget that I'm a bored guy—and quite creative when it comes to getting what I want.”
I curled up in bed just imagining what he might plan to teach me a lesson. I shuddered thinking about how dangerously fun that could be.
My fingers drifted to the messaging app, thinking about responding—maybe suggesting a third option. But I gave up.
“You're out of control, Helena,” I repeated to myself, placing the phone on the nightstand, my heart still racing and a dangerous smile on my face.