73. Kingsley
73
KINGSLEY
I never know what to expect of Dante. He calls me his bag of contradictions. But he’s a box of mysteries I can’t wait to unpack. As soon as he lets me in. He’s started to open up, but I know there’s so much more I need to learn about him. And he still has that way of deflecting whenever I try to probe into his past. He just doesn’t want to share. But what he doesn’t know is that patience is my middle name.
I know immediately when he tells me maintenance has to carry out work on my place that he is up to something. But I go along with him and let him have his fun, interested to see what he has planned. He always surprises me with every little move he makes, so why wouldn’t I let him have his way?
He walks me through the house that I’ve now memorized like the back of my hand until we finally enter the dining room. The blindfold may be hindering my sight, but it is in no way preventing me from inhaling the aroma of food that is doing something to all my senses. The smell is most overpowering in the dining room, and my tastebuds are warring against each other as my mouth waters. Food – it’s the mouth’s equivalent of sex.
Something is dancing against my feet as Dante continues to guide me into the room. He tells me to be careful; I take slow steps and let him lead me. Until we come to a stop somewhere in the middle of the room, and he is no longer behind me. I can feel him in front of me, his presence overwhelming the air. He unties the blindfold from around my head and watches my face. My eyes meet his for only seconds before I cast them around the room. There are balloons everywhere. Large ribboned balloons are hanging from every inch of the ceiling. Gold helium balloons. Lining the ceiling and littering the floor. They’re everywhere, and they’re gorgeous. Several stands are scattered around the room holding fresh floral arrangements; white and champagne roses blend with stunning vibrant green foliage. And the air – the air is softly showering the room with a thin sprinkling of stardust that is gorgeous to behold. The room looks magical.
The room was definitely organized by a designer or event planner, and I take in my surroundings, memorizing every minute detail and filing them away for further reference somewhere down the track. I never want to forget this gorgeous night, or the way my dining room looked when Dante decided to surprise me with dinner.
I look towards the table and my heart catches in my throat. All the dishes we enjoyed from that first lunch at Papa Gino’s are laid out on the table in crystal domes. I shift my gaze to Dante’s, who stands quietly watching me with lazy, hooded eyes. He knows exactly what I’m asking. I don’t know how he managed all this, but he’s somehow put together a dinner for us unlike any other. Every time I think he can’t possibly surprise me with anything more than what he’s already done, he goes right ahead and proves me wrong. And no matter how hard he tries to avoid my questions, I’m learning so many things about Dante that I wouldn’t otherwise know were it not for the way he operates.
This room… this set up… tells me that he’s a romantic. The trouble and effort and cost he’s gone through to organise the night leaves no doubt about that. The way he dominates me in the bedroom gives me an insight to his passion, his desires and his need to control. The way he directs my eyes towards his whenever we are around others tells me he’s possessive. And I like that. I like that a lot. I like everything about Dante that I’ve come to learn so far. And there’s not a single thing about him that I would ever consider changing.
“The food smells amazing,” I murmur, wanting nothing more than to throw myself at him and maul him. I am so turned on by the thought and care he’s put into the night, my knees are about to give out. As though sensing this, he guides me to the table, pulling out my chair before he sits opposite me. “It looks exactly like the way Papa Gino made it for us.” I clap my hands together gleefully as I set my napkin across my lap.
“That’s because Papa Gino cooked everything,” he informs me, and I stop my hand midway to my cutlery and throw him a surprised look.
“Gino is here?”
“I flew him in to cook dinner for us,” he says, and I’m absolutely floored. Having that sort of money affords you many things, but I mean… flying in a chef?
“Is Gino in the habit of doing you favors?”
“This wasn’t a favor. The reasons for his trip were two fold; to cook for us and to check prospective business opportunities here.”
“Here? In Seattle?” I’m gobsmacked but secretly delighted.
“It’s been in the pipelines for a while now. Let’s eat before the food grows cold.”
I spear a mushroom and let it melt into my mouth before I skim my gaze around the room again. Then my eyes settle on Dante as he enjoys his dinner. I watch his movements carefully, and follow every swallow as it travels down his throat slowly. There’s something so sensuous about watching a man eat. Especially this man. He’s my favorite person in the world, and I can’t imagine my life without him.
“What’s with those balloons?” I ask, as I notice the three silver balloons clustered above our table. Dante looks up, smiles, then settles his hooded eyes on me again. Therein lay all his secrets. The biggest box I need to unpack is the one shelved in his eyes. His beautiful honey colored eyes, smoldering like thick rich syrup.
“Another game we’re going to play after dinner,” he tells me, and everything inside me clenches in anticipation of things to come. I love Dante’s games. The challenges he keeps throwing at me are so varied, I start to wonder if he has a creative he is working with to help him come up with all these ideas.
“You love your games, don’t you?” I ask. I match his hooded gaze, quietly undressing him with my sultry voice.
“I do. But no more than you love playing them.”