Shaking off my mini trauma, I eat the rest of my now cold breakfast, shower, and grab a sweatshirt from his wardrobe. Good thing this man weighs over a hundred and ninety pounds, it ends up looking like I'm wearing a dress instead. It smells faintly of his cologne; musk, pinewood and a hint of cedar... I take a deep sniff.
It's been over twenty minutes since Dante left, there's no sound of either of their voices as it should be in a house like this and I'm tempted to check for myself out of habit. I chew my lower lip, thinking about calling Diego, my best friend but decide against it. Too risky.
Just when I curl up for a catnap the door opens and Dante steps in. Whatever kept him away for that long wasn't rosy. Veins pulse along his neck, jaw locked tight, eyes dark enough to freeze anyone mid-step. His eyes soften when they land on me and he pauses in his step.
"I'm sorry you had to see that. That was my ex, Alex. I broke up with her a few weeks back but she's yet to come to terms with our separation," the irritation in his voice is heavy.
"Broke up? What happened?" I yawn, pulling the covers higher now I'm sure I won't get the other end of the brunt.
"What do you think happened?" Dante asks dryly, and for the first time I see him roll his eyes. That girl must have been a handful.
"She cheated on you?" I ask, wincing as soon as the words leave my mouth. He quirks a brow. "Your best friend then." Dante shakes his head.
"Your dad?" I add quickly.
"Valeria."
"Or maybe she was too clingy?" I say quickly.
"Alex and I weren't compatible for obvious reasons. You got the clingy part right though," he's still frowning.
"Should I be concerned about my safety then?"
"Alex?" he chuckles dryly already moving to the wardrobe. "She's harmless." I'm not sure a woman who looked like she could rip off my hair is harmless but I don't press.
An awkward silence takes over the room, Dante backs me, searching for what I'm guessing is work clothes and from the way those hangers rattle I think it's in my best interest to stay quiet. I watch him or rather watch those muscles flex beneath his clothes; even when he's doing nothing, he's still doing a lot. I press my thighs against each other and sink further into the comforter. Looking this good should be banned.
Dante lays his outfit on his side of the bed and pulls off his shirt. Last night I was probably too distracted by his cock to admire him properly but now I'm getting to understand why Alex's still hung up on him. His biceps are hard, ridiculously defined against olive skin in that way that looks like they were sculpted carefully on his torso. Broad shoulders, toned arms connect with the rest of his body to create a perfectly balanced frame.
"Before I leave for the office I need to get a few things straight between us," Dante pauses and I nod. "Alright, Helen is the oldest staff member of the house, she'll introduce you to the other staff and show you around, you'll pick your new room and if you need anything at all, she can handle that."
"I can start with new clothes–"
"A stylist is coming anytime from now, she'll help you with your shopping. Here," I stare hard at the black card stretched towards me. A fucking black card! I collect it and mutter thanks.
"Check your mail for a PDF of my personal data, at least what you need to know. There's a second one you're to fill and send to me. Helen's waiting outside the door. See you later Valeria."
Just like that, the door to the bathroom shuts. I'm left with a black card that costs way more than my dignity. Welcome to marriage, Valeria.
I don't need anyone to tell me he prefers me out of his room by the time he gets back. Alright Mr. grumpy.
♣♣♠♠
Whoever said money can't buy happiness must not have had enough money to solve 'em... Ari has never been more correct. Why else am I grinning when I should be passed out from a color analysis, five boutique trips, a new haircut, nails and a visit to the dermatologist? Fucking kill me!
Sylvia is every girl's dream shopping companion, at least to those who can afford her. The trunk of the car is filled with carton bags from high end brands; Prada, Gucci, Louis Vuitton etcetera. The minute I showed the sales girl the card, her eyes practically lit up, suddenly I was 'Ms. Torres,' escorted to a private room lined with champagne and clothes. Guess money really does talk, or maybe Dante's card did the talking for me.
My screen lights up, a text from Dante. 'Get dressed. We're eating dinner at my parents'. One text, just one text and my grin fades. I've watched enough movies to know my night has already been ruined before it's even begun. I bite my lips, typing back a depressed okay.
♠♠♠♠
"Is there anything you should warn me about your parents?" I cast a side glance at the man beside me who's been strangely absent minded since I joined him in the car.
"No." Is his flat reply. He doesn't spare me a glance, just continues swiping at his screen.
"Well," I drag out my word, "Are they scary? Like monster in-law level kind?" Dante's hand freezes and I scold myself for my inability to shut up. He lets out a deep sigh, the reflection from his phone revealing a small smile.
"You can call them that," then he turns to face me. "You don't have to be scared." He says calmly.
The rest of the ride is quiet, both of us sitting in comfortable silence. The car slows to a stop, and the gates open before us. I grip my bag a little tighter as we drive in. Even from here, the house looks intimidating. Massive, quiet, and too perfect to be real reminding me that people like me don't belong in places like this.
My throat goes dry, palms slick against my dress.
I try not to stare, but it's hard not to. Everything about this place screams power.
When the car finally stops in front of the entrance, I realize I haven't said a word the whole ride. The gates close behind us with a soft thud, and for some reason, it feels like the air changes.
Lord please.