CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Iudicium Internum
New edits came out on tktk girls! Feast your eyes! #Dantezetes (@deisebloombastic)
The last two days had been chaotic. I obsessively checked my phone waiting for news while fighting off every temptation that would land me in Dante’s bed.
My routine boiled down to staring at my phone, avoiding Dante while handling Jim’s case, and training muay thai until I was exhausted enough to sleep.
Now it was Friday and I was holed up at the gym, dripping sweat in the ring while sparring with Freya, my training partner for the day. She wasn’t giving me any breaks, and despite being exhausted, this was exactly what I wanted.
“You’re getting soft,” Freya joked when I sat on the edge of the ring.
“Or your punches are getting heavier,” I replied as I removed my mouthguard. “I think I need to come to the gym more often.”
“I think you need to rest. You’ve been feral the last few days.” Freya helped me up. “Maybe you should take the weekend to relax.”
“I’d listen to the lady.” Dante’s voice made the blood drain from my face.
“Aren’t you the guy from the edits?”
“Dante. He’s my client,” I said, feeling the need to explain even though Freya hadn’t pressured me.
“Damn.” Freya gave Dante a once-over—he was dressed to impress in a shirt, sweater, and loafers. “I thought the edits were photoshopped.”
“I think I’m much better looking in them.” Dante winked at Freya, who blushed. She didn’t even look like the woman who’d been punching and kicking me mercilessly less than a minute ago. She looked more like a teenager in front of her crush.
“Sorry, Freya. I think we have work to do, don’t we, Mr. Marino?” I pulled him toward the corner by the locker room where my training bag was.
Dante had this smug look that was getting on my nerves.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I opened my locker and pulled out my bag, tossing my mouthguard and gloves inside.
“I stopped by the office and they said you were here.” Dante leaned against the locker. “You didn’t tell me you fight.”
“There are a lot of things I haven’t told you about myself.” I stared at him and noticed he was staring back. “What?”
“Sports cars, fighting, and that bossy-woman aura in court.” He moved closer. “Are you some kind of secret agent with a double life?”
A smile I couldn’t control threatened to escape my lips. Dante seemed to carry a little golden hammer in his pocket, ready to fix whatever went wrong with my mood.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, lowering my guard a bit as I started unwrapping my hand wraps.
“Trying to break through the wall you put up between us every two business days.” He took my hand to help with the fabric.
His touch wasn’t malicious, but his very existence reeked of sin to me.
Even the simple act of unwrapping felt sexual.
“Are your bags ready, or did you come up with a good excuse while avoiding me?”
“You’re so funny today.”
“I’m in a good mood.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, isn’t it? Don’t ruin my day.” He undid the last wrap.
I put the wraps in my bag and slung it over my shoulder.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“I was planning to shower… but I’m sure you’d suddenly appear in my shower,” I teased. “Besides, I don’t want to risk Freya showing up here.”
“Are you jealous?” Dante closed the distance between us, pinning me against the locker. “Ahh, Helena… if you knew how insignificant the world is when I’m by your side, you’d never worry about her or anyone else.”
He didn’t put his hands on me, and I was grateful even though my body begged him to. It was too risky. So we just walked out of the gym toward the sidewalk.
“Where’s your car?” he asked, but I hadn’t come by car.
“I needed to walk.”
“I can give you a ride. My ride’s parked across the street.”
“I live nearby.”
“I can walk you then,” he offered.
“That’s sweet of you, but I think it’s better not to,” I said. “Your fans tend to lurk on my street, and I don’t want to cause a commotion in the neighborhood.”
“It’s dangerous to walk alone on the street.”
“I’ve got two weapons on me.” I showed him my fists and he laughed. “I’m serious. I do this every day.”
“All right.” He gave in. “But let me know when you get there.”
“I'll unblock your number. Leave it to me,” I joked.
“I'll pick you up early, Doctor.” He extended his hand for me to shake.
“Okay...” Our fingers intertwined and lingered in the air a second longer. “...Mr. Marino.”
Dante crossed the street and got in the car. But the car didn't leave until I started walking. Moving slowly, it followed me for a few yards until our paths diverged, and I headed straight for my closet—perfectly functional for Dr. Helena, but utterly useless for Helena Torres.
After showering and slipping on a nightgown, I stood staring at my closet for several minutes. An absurd amount of formal clothes, suits, stilettos, and leather bags.
“This is a disaster.” I dove into the closet and pulled out a suitcase full of clothes I hadn't even bothered to unpack during the move. “There must be something in here.”
As soon as I opened it, a sliver of denim gave me hope. I dumped everything onto the bed and salvaged a few pieces I wasn't even sure would still fit.
“What if I wore this?” I held up a leather skirt so tiny it might as well have been my intern salary back in college. “There's no way.”
I grabbed a bikini that bordered on indecent.
“Dante would probably be thrilled if I showed up wearing just this and handcuffs.”
I pulled a party dress from the hangers, even though I didn't know if we'd be going to one.
And from the suitcase, I salvaged a few pieces—jeans and t-shirts that hadn't seen the light of day since 2005.
Which only confirmed my suspicion. I no longer knew how to dress to just be Helena.
All my clothes were performative. As if there was no longer an actor behind the character.
At some point, I'd started replacing Helena with the Doctor, and even when it was no longer necessary to wear her, I still did. The formal clothes went to bars, family gatherings, and even dates—which had actually become rare over a year ago.
And now here I was, thinking about what I could wear to let Helena breathe fresh air one more time.
“But not all is lost.” I opened the lingerie drawer.
In this department, Helena had always shined—and always would.
I picked out a red silk nightgown and a long robe in the same shade.
Lace sets and thongs. A garter belt and thigh-high stockings.
I packed my toiletry bag with makeup, moisturizers, and perfume.
“I think that's it.”
I sat on the bed and grabbed my phone to check if Dante had responded to my message letting him know I'd arrived.
“Did you need to use your fists, or was it a smooth trip back home?
By the way, I needed a lot of self-control not to rip your clothes off and fuck you right there on the ring.
It's getting harder every day, Helena. Luckily, I'll have you for 48 hours all to myself.
I hope that's enough to keep me from losing control. Kisses. See you tomorrow.”
Another notification caught my attention. It was a voicemail. Must have come in while I was in the shower. I clicked on the icon and Vincent's voice filled the room, loud and clear.
“Doctor, sorry for the timing, but I have information you need to know. I'll be waiting for you Monday, first thing.”
My stomach turned. I stared at the Halfeti rose.
Depending on what he told me, this weekend could be my last memory of us. That felt deeply symbolic—and a little terrifying. The next forty-eight hours could become a sweet memory or a stain on my past.
But it didn't matter, because there was one thing it would never be.
A “what if I'd had the courage?”
I closed the suitcase, tucked it in the corner of the room, and climbed into bed. Before turning off the lamp, I gazed at the rose a little longer. The more I looked at it, the more I understood what Dante meant when he sent it to me.
The black rose protected by the glass dome was my favorite metaphor.