20. Dante
20
DANTE
“ I laria, I’m going to the gym.”
It feels so mundane and average to call out and announce that I’m leaving the house but I feel my heart soar when I do it.
How much time have I been wasting being a playboy when I’m really meant to be a house husband?
Slipping my keys into my palm I wait for her reply and instead see her rushing from the kitchen, something in both her hands.
“I made you a smoothie. You should have protein before your workout.”
Her eyes travel down, one of those perfectly manicured brows lifting as she looks me up and down. I’m just in gym shorts and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, nothing that deserves the look she is giving me.
But I like her looking at me like I’m her next meal.
“Look at your slutty little thighs in your hoochie daddy shorts. Turn around and shake that ass for me, sweetheart.”
She is joking with me and as much as I’d like to indulge her objectifying me I have a training session that I need to get to.
So I just roll my eyes at her comment, grabbing for my gym bag that is sitting on the new bench that showed up at the house.
Lots of little things have shown up at the house.
Pillows for the couch, a small patio set for the balcony, and random things that don’t seem to fit in my kitchen.
The penthouse is getting the Ilaria treatment and I love that she is making it a mix of us both.
“Thanks for the smoothie, princess.” She shrugs, reaching for her work bag as I take her in, all cream colored dress and matching heels. I remember this is her first day back in the office.
She had kept me up most of the night with her nervous pacing as she typed out her resignation letter. Reading it to me as she made corrections and asked if it sounded okay.
I didn’t want to tell her that it didn’t matter what she said to them. She’d never have to work a job she didn’t want again.
After a week off she was going to quit, working only one last week and giving herself a week to work on the wedding we would be having on the 22nd.
“Are you driving to work?” I question as we head out together.
She shakes her head and I know she’s upset about giving up her career, even if it isn’t her dream job.
I want to change her bad mood around.
“Can I walk you?”
She smirks at this and I know I’ll spend every day this week walking with her just because love theway she looks at me.
There’s something about having her next to me, some magnetic force that draws me into her.
Maybe it’s because she lets me hold her, she slips into my arms so easily as we walk. Chatting about superficial stuff as we stop to get her two coffees.
The first time she had told me she drinks that much caffeine I had thought that it was some test but sure enough it was not a test. She just really appreciated her morning pick me ups.
“Ilaria. I made an appointment for you on the 23rd to get an IUD.” She stops as we go to cross in front of Haymarket and I can see her confusion by this.
Everyone would assume she would be pregnant within the year with my heir. But the idea of having to share Ilaria so soon is too much for me. I want to be selfish and have her to myself for as long as I can.
I want a foundation for us to stand on before adding more weight to our lives.
Yes, I want children with her.
Multiple little dark haired kids with my even temper and Ilaria’s mischievous smiles.Little kids who run wild and snuggle up against their mother like sleepy puppies. Christmas mornings playing Santa and looking at my wife as I stand under the mistletoe.
My chest aches with the need to make this a reality.
Ilaria as a mother with her soft smiles and kind words, the way she told me she hates working out but looked up smoothie recipes to provide me with something this morning, how she just jumped into caring for me without knowing me.
She’d be an excellent mother.
But right now I just wanted time with my wife.
Ilaria had taken care of so many people and was still so young. I wanted a couple years where she could be young without responsibility. To travel with her and stay up until 4AM drinking without having to worry about kids waking up at 6 AM.
I wanted the time to have my wife fall in love with me first.
“Oh. I see.”
But she doesn’t.
She’s too quiet, not even sipping her drinks as we walk in the pedestrian traffic, walking up the stairs as we get closer to City Hall. And I’m aware that my time with her this morning is coming to an end and it’s making me nervous.
Her eyes are downcast, avoiding me as we move and I can tell she’s upset by something that I said to her. My failure to improve her mood weighing heavy on me now.
“Ilaria, do you-“
“I’ll see you tonight.”
She doesn’t even look back before walking into the building and I’m locked outside of it. The barrier is there between us, more than one it seems.
How do I keep getting it wrong?
My hand tucks into my pocket, toying with the rosary beans my father gave me at my First Holy Communion. A nervous tick that I’ve had most of my life. Praying Hail Mary and Our Father over and over again as I try to problem solve.
Much like I did as a child who was told to say my prayers after confession.
I look at the building like I need to break into it and take her by the shoulders, shaking whatever is wrong from her.
It’s becoming more apparent that Ilaria needs more of an explanation. She’s not the type to just go with the flow. And I’m not the type that is used to having to communicate the why to my needs.
Having people used to my commands makes it easier to delegate and do my job. But Ilaria didn’t work for me. She was supposed to work with me.
The stress of the club’s first week, our wedding, and engagement party, plus some business that didn’t go as planned had me up to my neck in stress.
I glanced down at my watch, debating on skipping the sparring session and just making a scene to get Ilaria to forgive me but there wasn’t even time for that.
Never enough time for those who deserve it most.
Everything was in Inferno now to make my life easier.
I could travel each floor going from working out, to my meeting, to my engagement dinner. If I diverged even a little bit it ran the risk of upsetting people who would try and kill me.
That wasn’t my plan.
I’d send her flowers and a note letting her know we could talk more about everything. I had time to get to the florist shop before everything and it was the bare minimum for upsetting my fiancée.
Knowing that I was doing the bare minimum didn’t help the guilt that was eating me away. But that had to be a tomorrow problem, today was already booked up