Chapter 7
EVERLEIGH
Everything still feels off.
My eyes are heavy, like I haven’t slept in days, and my brain feels overworked as if I took the ACT’s today.
Dante lets go of my hand, moving around to the other side of the bed before climbing in beside me, careful not to touch me.
Moments from the party flash through my head, jagged and out of order, and my stomach twists into a tight knot before I can stop it.
The room tilts, and I have to fight to keep from throwing up whatever shit Scott drugged me with. My fingers curl into the soft blanket covering me, gripping it for support as I try to hold the bile back.
I let my gaze drift off to the side, focusing on anything I can as my thoughts try to piece themselves together. It’s frustrating how slow everything feels, like I can’t hold onto anything long enough to make sense of it.
“You shouldn’t have come in there,” I say after a moment.
The words slip out before I can stop them.
I’m glad he showed up when he did. That part I can’t argue with.
But then there’s the other part.
The part where he had to see me not being me.
I was weak and damaged in that room.
A damsel in distress.
That’s not who I am.
Two sides of the same coin. One side being that I was happy to be saved, the other that I wish I could’ve saved myself.
I shut the thought down before it can piss me off any further. “I was fine,” I add, but it sounds like a lie the second it leaves my mouth.
I press my lips together, more irritation lacing my tone. “I had it handled.”
Another lie. That’s why I’m so mad at myself.
I stare ahead, not really seeing anything other than darkness as I stare up at the ceiling.
His voice breaks the silence. “I know you. I know how strong you are.” He releases a breath and continues. “Needing help doesn’t make you weak.”
His words latch onto my soul.
I hate that this is even a conversation we’re having.
“You aren’t weak,” he says after a few seconds. “Not then. Not ever.”
He pauses, then shifts, turning onto his side to face me.
I peel my eyes away from the ceiling, meeting his gaze directly.
“For once, you were nothing more than human.”
I stare at him, disbelief washing over me.
I start to feel somewhat clearer as the drugs lessen in my system.
“You’re saying I wasn’t human before?” I ask.
He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at me like I should already know the answer.
“Everleigh Genovese. Always with a bodyguard, living in a penthouse, trained in every art of deception by the deceptive king himself. You think someone like that has ever really lived like a normal human being?”
He’s not wrong.
Damn it, I know he’s not. But hearing it out loud doesn’t make it hurt any less.
I was simply.. outplayed.
Not by one man, but by two. In a single night.
My father will be infuriated when he finds out about tonight. I already know Dante’s going to tell him. Not to cause any issues, but because he’ll want my security tightened.
I don’t blame him.
As much as I hate to admit it, I want the same thing.
Once I get better at protecting myself, I won’t need a constant security detail hovering over me.
I wasn’t even supposed to have one tonight, but of course Dante showed up the second my father snapped his fingers.
I don’t even know how in the hell he found me to begin with. Unless..
I turn my head toward him, eyes narrowing. “Did you put a tracker on my phone?”
A low chuckle slips out of him. “Are you seriously asking me that right now? You should feel fucking lucky I was able to find you tonight.”
“Lucky?” My tone shifts into irritability, “My privacy was already violated tonight. Specifically by Scott..” His name nearly makes me throw up. “And now you, too? I didn’t think I had to worry about that with-”
“With me?” he cuts me off, “Leigh, be serious. I answer to one of the most powerful mob bosses in this city, who just so happens to be your very own father. Oh, and the FBI on top of that.”
His eyes don’t leave mine. “I was never someone you were supposed to trust.”
His words make something in me wince.
I know they’re true. I’ve always known exactly who he is, who he answers to, and where I fall in all of it. But hearing him actually say it out loud still doesn’t feel right.
He’s around me so much that somewhere along the way, I started to forget that he was my father’s enforcer and felt like he was more of a friend.
But he’s not here because he likes being around me.
He’s here because he’s paid to be.
I glance away from him, my eyes shifting back to the ceiling. “Right,” I mutter, the word coming out emotionless.
There’s nothing else I feel like saying.
He isn’t wrong and that’s the end of it.
My fingers tighten around the blanket again, steadying myself as the dizziness continues to fade. As it does, I start to have an elevated awareness of my situation.
After a moment, I speak again. “You’re wrong about one thing though.”
He shifts beside me, like he’s zeroing in on what I’m about to say. “What am I wrong about?”
I suck in a breath, forcing some kind of confidence back into my system before I look at him again.
“I don’t trust you.”
I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but I did at some point.
The sun cuts through the window, temporarily blinding me as it does.
The memory from last night hits my thoughts.
Not of Scott.
But of Dante laying right across from me hours before.
I’m not sure when he left.
I reach my hand out, letting it fall into the spot where he’d been lying earlier. The sheets are cool to the touch.
I can’t tell how much of last night was real.
I wasn’t sure how much of what we talked about actually happened. It’s possible the drugs were still messing with my head during that time.
Maybe I was dreaming.
I drown out the thought as I push myself up slowly, my body still not wanting to fully cooperate. It feels weaker than normal. I don’t like the way I feel, but maybe taking a shower will help.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, grabbing hold of the nightstand to help steady myself as I stand.
The house has a chill in the air, so I try and hurry to the bathroom to hop into a hot shower.
I turn the water on and wait a few minutes for it to heat all the way before stepping in.
The heat pelts my skin and I brace my hands against the tile, head slumping forward as I let it rush over me.
For a second, I just stand there, letting the water run over my skin. The slight shiver I felt before, it disappeared.
I stand there under the current, hoping it’ll wash away anything he left behind.
Anything that doesn’t belong to me.
I reach for the loofah, squeezing the vanilla bean scented soap onto it before bringing it to my body. I start scrubbing my skin roughly.
My arms.
My shoulders.
My stomach.
Anywhere he might’ve touched.
I drag the loofah over each spot more than once, pressing harder than I need to, like I can erase it if I just try hard enough.
It still doesn’t feel like enough, even as my skin burns from the constant scrubbing.
A shaky breath leaves me as I drop the loofah onto the dark tile below.
I don’t want to remember his touch.
I can still feel his hardness against me, trying to enter into a place no one else ever has.
I gag at the thought.
I have to stop thinking of him.
I need to think of something else.
Dante. Yes.
Think of him. Of how much I can’t stand him.
Of how much I..
I can’t lie to myself. I want to, but as much as he gets under my skin in a way no one else ever has, and pushes every nerve I have.. I still want to know what he feels like.
What his muscles feel like beneath his shirt. What it would be like to have his rough hands on me.
I want him to touch me in a way that erases everything else.
My hand drifts down slowly, almost like I’m not fully aware of it at first. Down my chest and over my sensitive nipples, then I continue lower.
I hesitate for half a second, only because I’ve never done this before.
But I know enough. Well, I’ve heard enough from the others at school to know what the next step is.
My fingers move tentatively at first through my folds. The feeling is unfamiliar, but not necessarily unwelcome.
It’s foreign to anything I’ve felt before, but it feels nice.
More than nice.
I find a rhythm, slow at first, then faster as I start to understand what specifically works for my own pleasure.
I turn, leaning back against the tile, letting my head rest as my eyes drift shut.
I think of him.
The way he looks at me.
The way his eyes always seem to linger just a second too long on my lips.
My mind flashes back to that moment of him over me, close enough that I could feel his heat through his shirt and his breath on my face.
He wanted me.
That had to be it. That’s why he left.
My breathing starts to pick up as my movements quicken.
The feeling builds low in my stomach, pulling me further under. I bite down on my lip, trying to stay quiet, even as my mind fills with the idea of him. All I can think of is his hands on me.
I picture his mouth on mine, the way he would take control of this moment if he were here.
The tension tightens in my abdomen and where I touch begins to throb. My body succumbs to it, a soft moan slipping past my lips as everything unravels at once.
I press my arm against my mouth, biting down just enough to keep any sound from slipping out. I’m not even sure if anyone’s home, but I don’t want to risk it.
After circling my clit a few more times to finish out the feeling, I push up off the wall, stepping back under the water.
Scott will always be there in the back of my mind.
The first person to touch me like that.
Whether I wanted him to or not.
But right now, it’s not bothering me the way it was before.
The forcefulness of his touch is now dulled out by something else. By him.
My thoughts stay on Dante.
On what it would look like if he ever stops holding back.