52. Dante
DANTE
I’m struck speechless by this infuriating woman, again.
I’m not sure what I was expecting to see when I knocked on her door to let her know dinner was ready after she didn’t respond to my texts and ignored my call, but it wasn’t her perfect body dressed like sin and temptation.
And her scent of caramel and pistachio, filling my nostrils and infiltrating every brain cell, sending jolts of electricity through every limb of my body.
And from the thin straps of the dress, I’m guessing she isn’t wearing a bra.
Pull yourself together, Dante. I came up here to tell her dinner was ready and will have plenty of time to admire her this evening.
Maybe I should’ve changed after my meeting, but I figured my normal attire of black dress pants, a black button-down, and black dress shoes would be more than appropriate for a dinner at home.
Now seeing Rose, I’m not sure I even own anything worthy of her beauty.
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing in her doorway, dumbstruck, until Rose’s voice breaks me out of the trance she put me in.
“Dante, is everything okay? Sorry, I thought I’d be ready in time, but I can hurry and head down now. I don’t want the food to get cold.”
Clearing my throat, which has gone dry, and keeping my response short, “You didn’t answer my call,” is all that seems to come to mind at this moment.
“My phone must’ve been on silent. Sorry again,” she adds with a slight blush across her cheeks, still holding on to the door like an anchor.
Why does she keep apologizing? I’m fucking this whole situation up. Dinner was meant to be an opportunity for me to show her what things could be like between us, and now I’m standing here like a sentinel with a scowl on my face and desire burning in my veins.
“Just come down when you are ready.”
“Okay, I’ll be down in a sec. I was just going to change really quick.”
“No!” I practically shout the command before I can help myself. “Sarai la mia rovina,” I mutter under my breath, hoping she doesn’t understand. I clear my throat and quickly add, “Don’t change. You look beautiful.”
“Oh. Um, thank you?” Her voice goes up at the end almost in question.
“See you downstairs.”
I step away from the doorway with a head nod in acknowledgment, and Rose uses the distance as an opportunity to gently close the door and end this strange encounter before I can say something else I will regret.
Or worse, take a step into the room and grip her by the waist and pull her into me for a kiss so I can taste her again.
Down boy. Just focus on dinner and see where the evening takes you.
But all I can think about is Rose in that dress and who she was with today that would’ve seen her in it.
I’ll be sure to ask at dinner so I can add every person to my mental list of people who no longer need to exist. I am the only person who gets to see her like that, starting now.
And by the end of the night, she will know it.