Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Belle
I fought to keep my eyes open as exhaustion pulled at me, my body wonderfully spent from all the fantastic sex.
Dario lay beside me, one arm still draped across my waist, but I could feel the tension in him, his mind clearly racing while mine drifted toward sleep.
When he thought I'd fallen under, he carefully extracted himself from the bed.
Through half-lidded eyes, I watched him pad naked to the windows, his powerful body silhouetted against the city lights.
The hard planes of his back, marked with those mysterious scars, told a story of violence I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
He stood like a statue, hands braced against the glass, head bowed slightly as if carrying some invisible weight.
His reflection in the darkened window showed a face I hadn't seen before.
His usually guarded expression was now troubled, the confident mask momentarily set aside.
What demons haunted a man like Dario Luca? What price had he paid for his empire?
Sleep claimed me before I could ponder further, dragging me into darkness with questions still spinning through my mind.
I woke with a start, disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings, the whisper-soft sheets against my naked skin, the vast expanse of a bed too large and luxurious to be mine, all combined to remind me of exactly how out of my depth I was.
Morning light filtered through partially closed blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled bedding.
For a moment, panic seized me as memories flooded back.
Dario's hands on my body, his mouth against my skin, the promises he'd made in the darkness…
What had I done?
I sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest, and scanned the room.
Dario was nowhere to be seen, but I heard movement beyond the bedroom door.
Relief and disappointment tangled in my chest. I'd hoped to slip away unseen, to avoid the awkwardness of morning after pleasantries with a man so far above my station.
My clothes lay scattered across the floor where we'd discarded them in our urgency. I slid from the bed, wincing slightly at the soreness between my thighs, and gathered my things with quick, furtive movements. I'd just pulled on my jeans when the bedroom door opened.
Dario stood in the doorway, already dressed in fresh clothes.
His hair was damp from a shower, and the light scent of his cologne drifted across the room.
He looked impossibly put together, while I stood half dressed and disheveled in last night's work uniform. Yeah. Walk of shame didn’t even begin to describe my present situation.
"You're awake," he said, his eyes moving over me with an intensity that made me acutely aware of my nakedness beneath the thin fabric of my bra. "I thought you might sleep longer."
"I should go," I replied, the words coming out more abruptly than I'd intended. "Before the staff starts arriving."
Something flickered in his expression I couldn’t decipher before his usual mask of control returned. "I can have clothes sent up. Something fresh for you to wear home."
I shook my head, pulling my top together and buttoning it closed with fingers that weren't quite steady. "This is fine. I just need to..." I gestured vaguely at my rumpled appearance.
"Of course." He stepped aside, pointing toward a door I hadn't noticed the night before. "The bathroom is there. Take whatever you need."
I scurried past him, careful not to let our bodies touch, and shut the bathroom door behind me with perhaps more force than necessary. I leaned against it, catching my breath, before turning to face my reflection in a mirror larger than the entire length of my bathroom at home.
I looked exactly like what I was. A woman who'd spent the night being thoroughly fucked. My hair was a tangled mess, my lips slightly swollen, and a small bruise was forming at the juncture of my neck and shoulder where Dario's mouth had been particularly enthusiastic. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear my head and calm the panic rising in my chest. Because I remembered clearly we hadn’t used a condom. I’d been too far gone to demand one and he hadn’t offered.
What happened now? Did we pretend nothing had changed?
Did I become his secret upstairs indulgence while working my shifts below?
The thought made my stomach twist. I didn’t want to turn the best physical experience of my life into something icky, but I was headed that way.
I used his brush to tame my hair and borrowed some mouthwash, doing what I could to make myself presentable.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Dario stood by the bed, holding something in his hands.
"Your bag," he said, offering it to me. "You left it downstairs last night. I retrieved it for you."
"Thank you." I took it, careful to avoid touching his fingers. Or looking at him.
We stood awkwardly for a moment, the passion of the night before replaced by morning uncertainty. I shifted my weight, adjusting my shirt self consciously.
"You've missed a button," Dario said quietly, stepping closer.
Before I could react, his hands were at my waist, as he pulled me slowly and gently toward him.
He deftly realigned the mismatched buttons of my shirt.
The domestic intimacy of the gesture caught me off guard, making my throat tight with emotion I couldn't name.
When he finished, his hands lingered at my sides, warm through the thin fabric.
"Belle," he began, then stopped, seeming uncharacteristically at a loss for words. "About last night—"
"It's okay," I interrupted, unable to bear hearing him say it was a mistake, a one time indulgence, or worse, an offer to continue in some clandestine arrangement. "We don't have to make it into something it wasn't."
His eyebrows drew together. "And what do you think it wasn't?"
I looked away, heat climbing my neck. "Important? Meaningful? Something worth complicating both our lives over?"
Gently, he caressed my chin with his finger before gently urging me to look up at him. "Is that what you believe, or what you think I believe?"
"Does it matter?" I asked, hating the vulnerability in my voice.
"Yes." The single word carried weight, forcing me to meet his gaze. “It matters very much.”
What I saw there made my heart stutter. Not calculation or casual interest, but something deeper, more conflicted played across his features. Something that mirrored the chaos in my chest.
"I should go," I repeated, stepping back from his touch. "People will talk if I'm seen leaving your apartment in the morning."
Dario's expression hardened slightly, but he nodded. "I'll take you down."
"No," I said quickly. "I can find my way. Better if we're not seen together."
He looked like he wanted to argue but simply walked to the door instead, opening it for me with formal courtesy that felt like a wall rising between us. I stepped into the hallway, clutching my bag against my chest, already rehearsing how I'd slip back to the staff area unseen.
The elevator chime rang just as Dario opened the door, and we both froze at the sound of approaching footsteps.
I had a split second to register Dario's expression shifting from surprise to anger before Valentina rounded the corner, her hand raised as if about to knock. She stopped abruptly, shock on her face before she narrowed her gaze on me. There was no denying the woman’s shark-like beauty.
Her make-up was perfectly applied, her business dress crisp and tailored to her form in the most flattering cut.
The calculation in her eyes, followed closely by malicious delight as she took in my rumpled appearance and Dario standing in the doorway made me duck my head before I could stop myself.
"Well, well," she said, her voice dripping with venomous sweetness. "Looks like someone's been sampling the boss's private stock."
Humiliation burned through me like acid, scorching away any lingering warmth of Dario's touch. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to form words, acutely aware of how I looked. "I was just—" I began, then stopped, realizing any explanation would only confirm her accusation.
"Leaving? After a hard night's work?" Valentina's gaze raked over me, her perfect red lips curving into a cruel smile. "I must say, Dario, your taste has certainly... downgraded. From Prada to polyester. How refreshing."
"That's enough, Valentina." Dario's voice cut through the corridor like a blade, cold and quiet.
She turned her attention to him, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arching.
"Is it? I wonder what your employees think, seeing you bed the help?
Or perhaps that's how she got the job to begin with?
" Each word struck like a physical blow, confirming every whispered suspicion I'd heard since starting at The Gray.
I wanted the floor to open beneath me, to be anywhere but trapped in this hallway between Dario's fury and Valentina's contempt.
"I said enough." Dario stepped fully into the hallway, positioning himself slightly in front of me in a gesture that seemed instinctively protective. "You're here uninvited and unwelcome, Valentina. Whatever you came to discuss will wait."
"Will it?" She smiled, the expression never reaching her cold eyes. "I rather think the board might be interested in how you're spending your nights these days. Mixing business with pleasure never ends well, darling. You taught me that."
"The board answers to me, not the other way around.
" His voice dropped lower, taking on an edge that raised the hair on my arms. "And if you ever speak to or about Belle that way again, you'll find yourself permanently,” he emphasized the word, “shall we say, unwelcome in any establishment I own. Are we clear?"
The threat hung in the air between them, and I watched something like genuine fear flicker across Valentina's perfect features before she masked it with disdain.