14. Dante #2
We return to the house and pop into the shower together.
Melody scrubs the crusted blood from her hair, and I sneak peeks at her luscious body.
She's a Venus. A goddess. I can't hide it from myself anymore.
She is no longer a means to an end. No, she's the reason I've been neglecting my newly appointed Dantalion duties.
I don't know if I love her, not yet, but I definitely don't want to be without her.
Melody chews her lip as I scrub the remaining blood from her extremities. She wants to say something.
"Spit it out, Melody. What's the issue? Are you suddenly squeamish?"
"What? No. It's just… am I forced to stay here? Inside? And what happened to my job? What about my apartment? All my things?" she blurts. Ah, there it is.
"I'd highly suggest you not go gallivanting around town by yourself.
If you want to go somewhere, tell Roman.
" I smirk at the thought of her shitty diner gig.
"As for the rest, that's not important. If you recall, I own the building.
Your lease was terminated. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but restaurants are usually accustomed to their employees leaving on short notice.
Your resignation letter was very apologetic. "
"My—what? You forged my signature? You quit my job for me?" She shoves my hands away and glares at me. God, she's gorgeous when she's angry. Though I can't imagine why she's so upset. I saved her from that pathetic hellhole. I've given her freedom, with a few strings.
"Sure did, love. A Goetic wife doesn't labor at a greasy spoon.
If you're really that upset, I'm sure I can find something for you to do.
" I smirk. "Until you're pregnant. Speaking of, you have a doctor's appointment at the end of the week.
Full physical, blood testing, hormone tests.
The works, really. I will, of course, accompany you. "
"What if I tell the doctor I'm there under duress?" Melody snarls at me.
"Are you?" I spin her around and run the loofah over her shoulders. She resists at first but quickly relaxes into the luxurious lavender-scented foam. I watch her body quake as I scrub into the small of her back. I can't help but snicker as she stifles a satisfied groan.
"Maybe."
For some reason, a pit grows in my stomach as I dress myself for work.
The last few days with Melody have been enlightening, to say the least, but I'm officially The Dantalion.
Duty calls. My suit is pressed to perfection.
The deep indigo tie complements the charcoal grey of my Oxford shirt.
I'd like to match the pocket square to the tie, but something tells me to tuck the skull-patterned panties I stole from Melody into the pocket instead.
"If you're leaving, am I allowed to go out?" Melody asks from the bed where she lounges, looking as edible as ever.
"With an escort," I reply, slicking my hair back. She grumbles irritably.
"Don't you have any women working for you?" She sits up and glares at me. "I'm sick of this sausage fest. And women can be plenty lethal—Francisco would have to agree."
I mull it over. My bodyguard team is mostly men, but Roman hired a woman about six months ago. Someone he knew from the military. I'd trust her with your life . A ringing endorsement. I've met her a handful of times. Roman assigned her to sentinel duty, if I recall correctly.
How very convenient.
"How silly of me. Of course. Roman will send her over later. Where do you want to go?" I ask as I slip on my Italian leather loafers, completing the look.
She shrugs. "Just out."
"Hmm." I whip out my phone and fire off a text requesting a female guard be assigned to Melody. Roman responds almost immediately, telling me that Helena will be here within the hour. "Done."
"Cool," Melody grunts with a half-hearted thumbs up. She rolls over and clicks on her phone screen, scrolling on some social media app.
"Enjoy your day, wife." I walk over and lay a tiny kiss on the side of her head.
"You, too."
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I listen to a new business pitch put together by The Vepar—something to do with pharmaceuticals. I sneak a peek at my phone and stifle a laugh. Melody's found her new credit card.
Purchase: $475.89
Purchase: $782.12
Purchase: $400.00
Interesting. A round number on the last one. I wonder what she bought. I tap out a message to her, trying to keep one eye on the presentation.
Enjoying yourself?
Wife
Starting to.
She sends through a photo of herself in the mirror of some boutique. My wife looks absolutely incredible in the deep emerald green wrap dress, posing with a cute little peace sign. Her new escort, Helena, looks wildly uncomfortable in the background. I swallow a chuckle.
Did you already buy that dress?
Yep. Like it?
Adore it. Do they have it in red?
I'll find out.
I click my phone over to silent and place it face down on the table, returning my full attention to the presentation. The image of my wife splayed out on the bed in that dress lingers in the back of my mind. She looks positively divine.