10. Margot
ten
Margot
"Ijust feel bad," I explain as Dante passes me an empty box. "I know she wouldn't have wanted to take them with her, but clothes aren't cheap."
He rolls a shoulder, uncaring. "I'll take them to our clubhouse and see if anyone wants anything. If not, they'll get donated. That was part of the original plan, anyway."
Getting rid of everything Madalyn will no longer need is going to poke at the sore wound in my chest, but it is what it is. She's probably already on a plane, flying off to who knows where. Too far away to care about such little things.
"One more thing to take care of," he continues as he turns away from me. Drifting to the door of our room, he starts pressing buttons until the pad beeps angrily at him. He motions for me to join him.
Setting the box on the bed, I do as I'm told and stare at the pad in confusion.
"Type in something you'll remember. This way...
you'll feel more comfortable despite being alone.
I'll clear the other one so I can't lock you inside.
" He doesn't look at me; instead, he drifts to the other side of the doorframe to keep his word.
"I can't get rid of the one on the front door, but this space is entirely yours. "
Surprised by his gesture, my heart speeds up at the reminder of the sudden kindness this man can show.
First, he held me while I cried, and now, he's offering me more than I ever expected to be given.
I don't type in a pin code, and that makes him frown.
"I don't think you're a bad man, Dante. What you just did for Madalyn... What happened between us earlier..." My cheeks heat as I try to keep my voice even. "If you had bad intentions, I think you would've done it by now."
That gets his attention. His throat bobs as he nods. "I can promise that I won't do anything you don't want me to."
My imagination runs off the rails at that, and the heat on my cheeks starts traveling south. Before I can think too deeply, he's clearing his throat and getting back on topic.
"I'll be keeping a lock on my door, just in case. As cute and innocent as you appear, I can't risk you jumping me in my sleep."
Just picturing me taking on a man twice my size is so ridiculous, I can't stop a laugh from leaving my lips. As the noise leaves me, Dante's expression softens.
Wait a minute. He thinks I'm cute?
"You don't have to worry about doing all of this tonight. Take a few days if you need to," he continues, nodding toward the empty box. "That can wait. For now, you should get some rest."
I don't know how I could possibly, but he's got a point. There's a weight heavier than gravity keeping me from feeling like I could fall asleep for ages if I lay down now.
"What about everything with my father?"
He scoffs, shaking his head like he can't believe that's what is on my mind.
"It's a process when it comes to him. Our hacker will be sprinkling little things she's found on him, setting everything in place.
That'll take a few days. Once enough time passes, we'll hit him where it hurts.
Days, Margot. That means you don't have to worry about it tonight. "
Sounding so confident in his ability to see into the future, I chew on my lip as I think about how much I don't know.
"What do I do until then?" I feel lost, and being held here isn't much help. Now that I'll be all alone, what will I do?
"What did you do to pass time before? What's something you enjoy doing?"
Surprised by his question, I take a second to remember the answer to the simple question. "I, um, liked to sew. I made dresses for my sister to help make time pass by."
"Dresses?" His brows lift, and his eyes flicker down. I watch the shift in his expression as his imagination takes over. His eyes narrow slightly, heavy and intense, with a quiet, ravenous focus that makes the air between us feel instantly warmer.
Should I tell him that I've made some for myself? It's a shame none of those shopping bags contained any dresses. It wouldn't hurt to see what kind of face he'd make.
Before his stare lasts too long, his eyes shift to the side. "I already have someone in mind who could request something for herself."
Eager for any excuse to keep my hands busy, I'm nodding, already loving the idea. It's embarrassing how something so little can perk me back up.
Thanking him, he has to excuse himself, leaving me all alone in this room with a final goodnight. Taking the box and setting it down, I promise myself to get around to it tomorrow. Dante's right. I don't need to rush to get rid of the evidence that my sister was here.
Settling on the bed, the memory of the face she'd made when first seeing the clothes has me smiling. Even better, a laugh slips past my lips.
I hope a day comes when I can see her wearing the kind of clothes she wants to wear in her online posts.
I hope everything works out for her.
Now, it's time for me to start focusing on myself.
Being left alone with Dante? Even I can see I'm going to have my hands full.
Having grown used to waking up to Madalyn throwing together whatever she can to feed us for breakfast, I'm surprised to find Dante behind the stove by the time I come out, feeling fresh after a nice shower and a night's rest.
He's got a video on his phone playing, and I can't hide my smile when I realize it's a cooking video. His attention is too much on trying to fold an omelet that he doesn't hear me approach.
"Looks delicious," I murmur, laughing when a man his size can lurch upward when surprised.
He immediately breaks the omelet and curses under his breath before snatching his phone off the counter. Like I've caught him watching porn, he quickly turns it off and shoves it in his pocket. It's impossible not to notice the pink to his ears.
"I didn't know you ate breakfast." How could I, when every morning he was already out of his place, gone to do whatever that involved his club?
"It's for you," he explains, shuffling to the side to fetch a plate. "I wanted to do something more than scramble them.
Surprised by his words and questioning if I'd heard them right, I watch as he plates his attempt at breakfast and offers it to me.
Accepting it, I silently take in the mushrooms and peppers oozing out of the sides, with cheese keeping the whole thing together. My stomach shouldn't clench because of something like this, but it does anyway.
When seeing him turning off the stove and cleaning up, I pause, standing there looking silly with the plate in my hands. "Are you going to leave?"
I hate how my voice cracks, making it impossible to hide the loneliness beneath. I know what I'd be heading into without Madalyn, but it doesn't make it easier.
He pauses, a brief look of surprise crossing his face. "I planned to, yes." His brows push together before lowering. "But I can stay for a short while."
Perking up at that, I think he curses under his breath before he goes to fumble with the coffee pot.
He grunts and nods, making me realize that he's pretty bad when it comes to communicating.
The scent of dark roast and warm, peppery steam drifts between us, and my mouth waters. I can't tell if it's the food, the coffee, or him that is doing it.
He doesn't look at me, but his elbow grazes my arm. It's a brief contact that leaves my skin tingling long after he pulls back.
While he fiddles around with the machine, I take a seat and fiddle with my fork, not wanting such a gift to be consumed all at once.
I gesture to the plate, offering him a soft smile in hopes of coaxing his eyes back to mine. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble."
"It's a complete mess," he murmurs, his voice a bit rougher than usual before he finally looks over his shoulder. "Next time, it'll be better."
"It's perfect," I counter softly, enjoying the promise in his voice of a next time. The pink at the tips of his ears deepens, and seeing this side of the man makes the kitchen feel instantly warmer.
Ah, this isn't good. Not for my stomach or my heart.
By the time he settles down next to me, the silence between us stretches, thick and heavy with everything we aren't saying. He sits so close I can feel the radiating heat of his body. Every bite I take is slow, purposely taking my sweet time just to stretch the minutes out.
When our eyes lock over the rim of his coffee mug, his throat bobs.
Okay, maybe we're both kind of bad at communicating. What is there to talk about? The main topic in our conversations has been my father, and that's the last thing I want to casually talk about.
Though, I don't think this man needs to use his mouth to get me squirming. His gaze is perfectly keeping up.
He's had a staring problem since day one, but at this point, I no longer mind it. I've always wondered what he's found so interesting about me.
Is it the mystery surrounding my background? Could I have a mark or a flaw that just happens to catch his gaze?
So many different possibilities.
"It's delicious," I offer up when his gaze follows my fork to my mouth.
"Looks like it," he murmurs back, making his voice do that thing. Is he aware of how deep he can make it go?
If this man keeps making butterflies show up in my stomach, I'm going to get used to this floating sensation. Otherwise, one of these days, I'm going to be swooped off my feet, drifting away beneath their eager fluttering.
There's a peaceful silence between us as I consume my meal and Dante swallows down his coffee. Like me, he takes small sips, hardly minding the temperature.
I'd wondered if he was much of a drinker when I saw the pot remain untouched during our stay. The first couple of nights, I noticed he'd favored the alcohol in the fridge more than anything else.
I think yesterday broke his streak. Makes me curious if today will be the same.
When my eyes linger on him for too long, he clears his throat.
"Someone should bring you fabrics today, so expect company while I'm gone.
We're going to get the ball rolling on the mayor, so there may come a time I may not come home.
I won't be surprised if he tries to arrest some of us to stop things from happening.
If that's the case, I have people I trust who can come check on you, but you should have everything you need. "
The dangers of the uncertainty of the future immediately kill off all the butterflies in my stomach. Without thinking, I reach out and brush the knuckles of the hand holding the coffee cup. He instantly lets go of the handle and lets me squeeze his fingers.
"Please be safe. I don't want to see anyone else get hurt.
" Pursing my lips, I know deep down Dante's thrown in the mix of people I now care about.
While we may have shared a heated moment of weakness, that's not all that fuels my feelings.
I can't remember the last time I've been taken care of so thoroughly.
He gives another grunt, nodding his head. Squeezing my fingers once, he pulls his hand away to stand. After disposing of his cup into the sink, he fetches his leather jacket off of the back side of the couch. "I should head out."
Getting up, I follow him all the way to the door. It is like we are attached by an invisible rope; when he moves, I follow. I don't know why I do it, and even he seems confused once he stops at the pin pad next to the door, his large frame turning back to face me.
He clears his throat as his eyes sweep over my face. "Do you... need anything else before I go?"
I slowly shake my head, but I don't break eye contact. Deep down, I know that my loneliness is what’s fueling my movement, but is it also affecting my decision-making?
A sudden, reckless ache blooms in my chest. I want to kiss him.
Is it because he made me realize there's a chance he might leave and not return? Yeah, that has to be it.
Before the voice in my head can tell me it's a terrible idea, my feet move.
Dante freezes the second I step into his space.
His chest stops moving, entirely paralyzed as I reach out and lightly trail my fingers against the rough leather of his jacket.
I tilt my chin up, leaning in until the scent of morning coffee swallows me whole, and press a soft, lingering peck right against his cheek.
The dark shadow of his beard is growing in, scratchy and rough, and the coarse hair tickles my lips in a way that sends a shiver straight down my spine.
"Please stay safe," I whisper against his skin. My voice wavers, not because I’m feeling shy. No, it’s because a kiss on the cheek isn’t enough. Shamefully… I want more.
I begin to pull back, but the slight movement breaks whatever spell has him locked in place. Dante's nose flares. A growl catches in his throat, and suddenly, he is a man entirely without constraint.
His hand shoots out, his fingers wrapping around my jaw—not rough, but with a terrifying, possessive strength that dictates exactly where I belong. He hauls me up onto my tiptoes and crashes his mouth down onto mine.
The kiss is consuming, a sudden storm of heat and pressure that completely steals the air from my lungs. How can a single kiss be this dizzying, this powerful?
My hands fist his jacket as the room spins, my knees going entirely weak under the onslaught of his hunger as his tongue slips past my lips to taste me.
Just as I feel myself beginning to melt against him, Dante tears his mouth away. His breathing is ragged, his thumb sweeping hard across my lower lip as he stares down at me with a gaze that burns.
"I will be," he promises, his voice a hoarse mess that’s full of panted breathing.
For a second, he doesn't move, his grip lingering on my jaw as if he’s a second away from ruining both of our plans and dragging me deeper into the home.
Then, with a harsh, reluctant swallow, he forces his hand to drop. He punches in the code to open the door and steps out into the morning, forcing himself to leave before we could do something we may regret... or enjoy too much.
He leaves me standing there, wondering what consequences will come from me falling weak to my wants and needs.