57. Dante
57
DANTE
T he universe is definitely trying to tell me something.
I run a hand through my hair and look in the mirror, trying to see through all the layers of crazy that have dogged me lately. I don’t even recognize myself. If the thoughts I’ve had about Kingsley before today were dark, I am now ready to defile her. Women have always been my weakness. And now one woman would become my downfall.
It had been excruciatingly painful to keep my hands to myself once Kingsley had unveiled herself to reveal that she was the girl I had saved at the club weeks ago. When I’d finally realized that she was Maddog Murray’s one and only child – a girl who had paraded as a boy to protect her identity – I not only developed a newfound respect for her, but I also found myself drawn to her in a way I shouldn’t be. She was after all the daughter of my father’s enemy, and she had no place in my world. But that connection I had felt with her, that invisible magnet that had drawn me in, coupled with my father’s insistence that I keep her safe, had ensured my unyielding efforts to keep her by my side.
When I knock on her door to ask her what she feels like doing, it’s because I believe that a few hours off the usual routine of training and meetings and prepping her for her role as head of the Murray family will do Kingsley good. A break from the usual monotony she has grown accustomed to. We will only be in New York another two days before we fly back home, and I know that once we are back, we have to hit the ground running and there’d be no slowing down.
Now I have to re-assess everything I know about her and everything tied to the dilemma of what to do with Kingsley Murray. I do not want to cross a line that I cannot come back from, but the woman is driving me absolutely crazy with her presence.
And now, to make matters worse, my father has become her custodian…her protector. Promising Maddog that he would look after Kingsley and ensure her safety was one thing; asking me to do it is another thing entirely. Looking after Kingsley and setting her up in the role she is about to undertake is laborious, time-consuming and all-encompassing. It puts my own business on hold. It brings risks to my own front door. It makes me a different person to the one I had been a mere few weeks ago.
Somewhere in the tsunami that has thundered its way into my life from the first moment I set eyes on Kingsley Murray, she has managed to single handedly worm her way into my heart. I’ve started to look forward to our interactions, no matter how fleeting they are. I find I miss her when I’m away from the house. And in the moments when she is not in my presence, I watch her on the security feed, telling myself it’s to check on her safety. That was how I realized what she was up to the day she dove half-naked into my pool. It was also the day that a possessive emotion – something I’ve never felt before – overtook me as I realized I didn’t want anyone looking at her. Then the day that she’d been taken from my home; my sanctuary, the one place where I believed she’d be safe, that was the day that had sent me over the edge with a red hot rage that made me thirsty for blood. I am still thirsty for blood. But I am also so far gone when it comes to my feelings for Kingsley that I have no idea how to go back.
* * *
“Get dressed. We’re going out to dinner.”
I know, I sound like an asshole, even to my own ears. My mind is still humming with anger, a distinct vibe felt by everyone around me before I knock on Kingsley’s door and give her the directive. Her gaze is assessing as she glances at me quietly for a few seconds. She stands back from the door and waves me in before making her way to her bedroom. I take a seat on the couch and fold one long leg over the other as I wait.
“Where are we going? What do I wear?” she asks, her voice reaching me from her room. I know this is her way of taking a jab at me because I didn’t take too well to what she was wearing earlier.
“Papa Gino’s. Smart casual.”
“I’m ready,” she says coming in to the living room only moments later. The good thing about Kingsley is that she is a quick study in getting ready. She is practical and it doesn’t take her hours to prepare. Which means I can count on having dinner sooner rather than later.
She is fixing an ear-ring to her lobe. She never wears ear-rings. And she is wearing a dress. I’ve never seen her in a dress. And she looks stunning. The black dress is figure hugging in all the right places, sitting snugly against her breasts before it falls to her knees, the only breathing room a small split in one side of the dress that is so subtle, it makes me want to see more. The collar is high, but not high enough to hide her delicate neck; if anything, it accentuates it and draws all attention to that region.
I can hear her voice as she says something, but can’t process a word as the dress goes straight to that part of my body that should be locked up for good. I continue to ignore her voice as I sit staring at her as she stands with her hands on her hips. She has no idea the damage she is doing.
I shake my head slightly, trying to come out of my Kingsley coma – without even meaning to, she never ceases to surprise me – and ask her to repeat her question.“Will it be cold? Should I wear a coat?”
I ignore her question and ask one of my own. “Where did you get that dress?” I didn’t even know that she owned any.
“When I went shopping with Stella earlier, she said I should try to change things up with a few dresses. She was horrified when I told her I only wear jeans. Is it too much?”
A worried frown crosses her face as she looks down at the dress, second-guessing her choice. I know what she is thinking even before she opens her mouth to tell me she can change. I hold up a hand as soon as her eyes come back to mine and tell her she looks fine. What I don’t tell her is what I’m thinking in my head… that every eye in that restaurant will be on her tonight.