Chapter 7 - Dante #2
Another week passed, and I started seeing Alisa less and less. Some days, I learned she’d left before I even had breakfast. Pilates or Yoga. Other days, she came in after dinner.
Ate out, she told me.
But something started nagging at me. She seemed almost euphoric after these trips. And then there was the fact that she kept going back to the same places.
I couldn’t bring myself to forget how it was these little outings started. I caught her spying on me, and she blamed it on boredom.
I knew she’d been looking around, of course, but what if I wasn’t as careful as I thought? What if she found something important I forgot to hide away?
Was it possible she was meeting someone armed with information on me and my family?
And if so, I started to fear what it could mean for our organization. If somehow, one wrong detail reached her father, there would be consequences I couldn’t even think to imagine without feeling sick.
I trusted my bodyguards, but I also knew how resourceful Alisa could be when she put her mind to something.
It wasn’t just suspicion driving me. It was also fascination. In my heart, I knew Alisa had an adventurous spirit. Even four years ago, when she was just twenty, she used to bring flair to every single day. Some mornings, she used to drag me along for Puppy Yoga. Other weekends, pottery classes.
I missed that version of her. More than I wanted to admit. Somewhere in my heart, I wanted to know what drove her now.
And one Sunday morning, when I had time on my hands, I didn’t think twice before jumping in my car and following hers.
I tagged Alisa’s car discreetly from a safe distance. My curiosity was piqued as I watched her get out with her bodyguard near a boutique and make her way in.
I parked across the street and watched through the window. She walked past racks of clothes, her fingers feeling the fabrics. She smiled at all the assistants and laughed with them, too.
In her eyes, I saw genuine kindness. When I compared her to the other women shopping, she seemed like the most real thing in there.
I saw her shortlist some dresses, and when the assistant grabbed them for her, Alisa fought to take them back herself.
God, she was so fucking friendly. So fucking perfect.
The assistant showed her out back, and I waited. I knew what I was doing was wrong. Felt wrong, for sure. But it was simple curiosity, I told myself. Besides, I needed to make sure she wasn’t tipping someone off, right?
I waited breathlessly, part wondering and part hoping that she’d exit in one of those pretty dresses. Just to get someone’s opinion.
But five minutes turned to ten, which turned to twenty, and my anxiety started peaking.
She didn’t have that many clothes with her, did she?
Concern prickled along my spine. Something wasn’t right.
Without thinking, I jumped out of the car and strode into the boutique, waving off her bodyguard, who looked like he had questions.
I walked toward the changing rooms.
“Excuse me, Sir?” one of the assistants stopped me. “Can I help you?”
“My wife’s taking too long. Alisa?” I huffed.
“Oh, of course!” Her eyes widened, and something told me Alisa had given them more than their fair share of business. She pointed to a door out back. “Right that way, Sir. You may go in. There’s no one in there but her.”
I nodded my thanks and made way to the door.
“Alisa?” I called out. “Everything okay?”
When she didn’t answer, I pushed open the dressing room door without thinking and froze.
She had her back to me, wearing nothing but a black lace bra and matching panties. She whirled around at the sound of the door with wide eyes, her hair tumbling down her shoulders.
“What the hell?”
Fuck. My eyes took in every detail like a man starved. That lace was nearly see-through, barely cupping those gorgeous breasts I remembered so well. Her stomach was still tight as hell. Heat rushed through me, pooling low in my stomach. Four years, and her body still affected me like this.
Only when I found myself thinking how endless those legs are did I pull my gaze back up.
Only to find her glaring at me. I knew I should apologize and back out. But my legs and brain were on a different tangent.
“Dante. Have you lost your mind?” she hissed, but I swear behind the fire in her words, I saw her body say something else entirely. She didn’t move to cover herself. Didn’t move to shy away. And that’s what stopped me then and there.
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wide open. She was angry, yes, but there was something else there, too. The same heat coursed through my veins.
I took a step forward like a man possessed. “I thought something happened to you. You were taking so long.”
“And how the hell did you know that?” She crossed her arms in front of her, dangerously tight. “Were you following me?”
Her eyes flashed, and I had no answer for that one without sounding like a creep.
“I was… passing through,” I let out a small lie. “And then I thought something might’ve gone wrong.”
“I was changing,” she snapped, but the way her arms stayed loose at her sides told me she wasn’t exactly furious. And she certainly wasn’t modest. That tiny scrap of lace clung to her like a second skin and, god help me, I’d never wanted so badly to be that lace.
I took another step toward her. “I’m sorry, okay?” I ran a hand down my face and tried not to look at her hips, her breasts, the shadow of her thighs through that see-through lace. “I didn’t think. I just—fuck, Alisa. I got worried.”
“Well, who knew lingerie shopping could be so dangerous?” she teased, her eyes softening.
She was teasing me. She knew what she was doing. And now she turned slowly, as if to grab the dress off the hook behind her—but the way she arched her back slightly, the way her body moved, it was a dare.
“You’re staring,” she said as she turned back to me, the dress hanging loosely in her hide, covering nothing.
I didn’t even deny it. “You look… incredible.”
She just stood there in black lace, watching me with those honey-brown eyes, almost teasing me to come forward.
“Do I?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as she took one step forward.
The space between us compressed. Jesus. She was so close, looking divine. Why fight what we both clearly wanted? Why maintain this exhausting distance when every cell in my body screamed to close it?
I knew the answer, though. Because I’d hurt her once before.
Because this situation was complicated enough without adding sex to the mix, and I couldn’t bear to see regret in her eyes afterward, especially if it risked her seeing me as someone who took what he wanted, when he wanted, even when she wasn’t fully there yet.
So I took a step back, though it physically pained me to do so.
“Get dressed,” I said, my voice rough. “Your bodyguard is waiting.”
“He can wait.” Her face turned cold. “I’ll be out when I want to be out.”
I nodded and turned to leave, knowing I needed to get away from her as fast as I could. Because if I had stayed a second longer, I wouldn’t have just kissed her. I’d have ruined every boundary I’d tried to hold onto.