Dante’s Girl (17 page)

I decide that I’m probably the luckiest girl on the planet as I sip a lemonade by the sparkling infinity pool.  My lemonade has mint leaves floating in it again which makes me feel fancy.

Make that extra fancy. 

Because when I got out of the shower this morning, there were beach towels twisted into sea animal shapes on my bed along with a note from Dante to meet him at the pool.

We’re not working today because it’s Saturday.  But Dante did tell me that we would make a trip out to the olive groves this afternoon so that I could look around. 

He grins from the lounger next to me.

“I like having you here, Kansas,” he tells me.  “My father likes you. And you put him in a good mood.  He says it’s refreshing to have a young person so interested in business.”

“You’re just happy that he’s focused on me instead of you,” I tell him without opening my eyes.  The sun feels so good here. Better than it feels in Kansas, I think.  Of course that might be because I’m thousands of miles from my problems. 

Or because Dante is lying next to me.

That’s probably it, actually.

He reaches out and grasps my hand, holding it next to him.  My heart beat stutters and I take a deep breath.  He’s so gorgeous.  Ever since our talk yesterday, we’ve had sort of an easy-breezy-attitude about our relationship.  Like, I know he likes me even though his life is
complicated.
  And he knows I like him.  And my life
isn’t
complicated. We haven’t exactly defined what our relationship is, but I think that’s probably because of all the kinks.

Kinks like his father.

And Elena.

Life is full of kinks. 

And the great thing about kinks?  They eventually work themselves out.

But at least we know that we’re on the right track. And we’re working toward something. Something really great. I can feel it. 

 My phone buzzes.  I glance at it and see Mia’s name on a text.

Do U want to go shopping?

I consider that for one brief moment as I look at Dante’s inert, beautiful form next to me. His brow is glistening slightly in the heat and he brushes one long hand against it to wipe the sweat away.  He could practically be a swimsuit model.  Do I want to leave here where I am laying with him in Nirvana and go shopping in a place where I might run into the creepy gypsy woman with Mia?

Um.  Negatory.

I text back.

Can’t.  Want to come swimming?

She answers.

Can’t.  I need a new bra. My girls got a little bigger. My old bras pinch my nipples.

I answer.

Gross. TMI.  :)

Then I add a P.S.

Girls are bigger?  Are you pg??

Immediate response.

Bite me, Kansas.

I smile.

“What’s funny?” Dante asks as he sits up to take a lazy sip of water.

I shake my head. “Nothing.  Mia’s just funny.”

He raises an eyebrow.  “Is she coming over?”

“No.  She wanted me to come shopping.  But I’m busy right now, so…”

My voice trails off as I lean forward to put my phone on the table.  Dante sucks in his breath.  “What the heck happened to your arm?”

I freeze.

My arm.

The huge, nasty bruise that Nate put on my arm.

I subconsciously cover it with my other hand while I frantically think of something to say.  Honesty is always best, right?  I wasn’t so sure that it was this time.  But it’s not my place to protect Nate.  I don’t owe him anything. 

Except a bruise.

“Um.  I bumped into Nate on the beach the other day.”

Dante stares at me in confusion.  “You bumped into Nate the other day and got a bruise?”

I sigh.  “No.  I bumped into Nate the other day on the beach while he was on the phone.  He thought I was eavesdropping and he got a little mad.”

Dante freezes, his eyes boring into mine.

“Nate got a little mad at you
?”

Each word is carefully enunciated and chillingly calm and I feel a storm coming. In fact, the hair stands up on my arms.  I feel a sense of foreboding, actually. Dante is pissed and Nate is not someone to mess with. I sense that from a mile away.  In telling Dante this bit of info, I’m essentially signing my Enemies-Are-Forever agreement with Nate.

But the truth is always best.

Right?

I nod.  “He thought I was eavesdropping.”

And I had been.

“What was he saying that was so very important?” Dante asks, his voice still icily calm.  He sits up. “Matters of national security, I’m sure.”

He’s getting to his feet, wiping off with a towel and reaching for a shirt. This can’t be good. Besides the fact that I’d rather he stay shirtless, I don’t want him going after Nate.  I know from these types of situations with farm boys in Kansas that they seldom end well.  Bones get broken, eyes get blackened, blood gets spattered.

“No.  I’m not sure what he was talking about.  He was trying to find something, he said.  And he mentioned your name.  But honestly, I couldn’t tell what the conversation was about. It might have been nothing at all.”

“That’s neither here nor there,” Dante announces.  “Because he laid a hand on you.  And that was a mistake.”

I sigh again.

“Dante, please.  It’s over with now.  It’s not going to do any good to confront him.  He was just having a bad day, I think.”

“Well, he’s about to have another one today.”  Dante stalks away. 

I sit frozen for a moment before I scramble up and trail after him. 

He’s on his phone already, leaving livid voicemails for Nate.  I presume it’s Nate, anyway.

“Call me, you bastard.  Now.”

I sincerely hope it’s Nate.

Dante shoves his phone in his pocket and keeps walking.

“Where are we going?” I ask as I trail at his heels like a puppy.  It’s all I can do to keep up.  He’s moving very fast. And his legs are very long.

We wind through the Old Palace and come out on the other side, bursting through the main doors just in time to bump into… Nate.  And Nate’s father, Nathaniel.  And Dimitri.

Gulp.

The three of them stare at us in surprise and Dante takes no time for pleasantries or explanations.  He shoves Nate hard, causing him to stumble backward down the white marble steps. 

“What the hell?” Nate looks bewildered and Dimitri grabs Dante’s arm.

“What were you thinking?” Dante demands, struggling against his father.  Dimitri holds him fast.

“What are
you
thinking?”Dimitri hisses, yanking at Dante.  “Stop this.”

Dante pulls his arm away.

“Do you enjoy roughing up women?” he asks icily, stepping directly into Nate’s personal space.  Nate is calm, unworried.  He looks directly into Dante’s eyes. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dante,” he says.  My hand automatically fingers the tender bruise on my arm.  Nate’s gaze flickers to me and I can see in his eyes that he knows
exactly
what Dante is talking about.

But he’s a very good liar.

Nate immediately puts on an innocent, puzzled expression.  I can practically feel his father’s breath on my neck as we all close in to listen.  This is the first time I’ve seen Nate’s father.  He looks nothing like Nate.  He is shorter, darker.  He seems kinder and like the rest of us, he is waiting for Nate’s explanation.  And that is forthcoming, but it is full of shit.

“Dante, is this about Reece? I’m sorry, dude.  I didn’t mean to hurt her. She stumbled on the beach and I reached out to make sure she didn’t fall. I certainly didn’t intend to man-handle her.”

Nate looks to me. 

“Did you think I was purposely hurting you, Reece?  My apologies.  That certainly wasn’t the case.  Can you forgive me?”

His face is icy, his eyes cold.  But the words he is speaking are the right ones.  How can we argue with them in front of Dimitri and Nathaniel?

“I don’t believe you,” Dante says calmly.  I guess that’s how. We just lay it out there. I suck in my breath as Nathaniel steps forward.

“Come now, Dante,” Nathaniel says quietly.  “Nate says it was unintentional.  Surely you can’t believe that he’d harm a girl that he barely knows.  For what purpose?  Let’s not be rash.  Let us calm down and be adults.  Is it possible that your judgment might be clouded because you’re jealous that Nate was with Reece at the beach in the first place?”

“I’m not jealous of Nate,” Dante answers.  “I just know Nate better than you do, sir.”

“Dante!” Dimitri snaps, his face a thunderous storm cloud.  “Apologize at once.  This is ridiculous.  Nate has apologized. It was an accident.”  He turns to me.  “My dear, I sincerely apologize that you have been injured here in Caberra under my watch.  I will make it up to you.  I do hope you won’t hold Nate liable.  I believe his intentions were true.”

No, they weren’t.

But Dimitri is waiting for me to speak, to agree, so I nod. 

“It’s fine.  It’s just a little bruise.”

“It’s not fine,” Dante interjects, but his father grabs his arm.

“Dante,” he hisses into Dante’s ear. “Enough.  We’re in public.”

Dante goes still. 

“Now apologize,” Dimitri instructs.  Dante clenches his jaw so tightly that a little muscle ticks by his mouth.  His beautiful mouth.  I cringe inside at the thought that Dante has to apologize to this beast.  

“Apologize,” Dimitri says again. 

Dante sighs, squaring his shoulders reluctantly as pulls his arm away from Dimitri. He is resigned to doing his duty.  I can see it on his face. It’s a role that he has played in his life many, many times.  And once again, I don’t envy him for it.

“I apologize,” he says icily to Nate the beast.  He takes two steps toward me to walk past Nate and as he passes him, he leans in and says, “For nothing,” in Nate’s ear. 

I’m not sure if anyone but Nate and I hear, but the look on Nate’s face is priceless.  He’s pissed and he can’t say anything.

Dimitri and Nathaniel are already nodding and walking back inside as if the matter is closed.  I doubt they truly care as long as public image isn’t harmed.  They are good people, I am sure.  But they are public figures.  They have been conditioned to always think about public perception. I can’t blame them for that. 

Nathaniel turns when they reach the doors.

“Are you coming, Nate?”

I realize that he doesn’t want to leave Nate out here.  He doesn’t want to take the chance that Nate will do something regrettable.  I can see that on his face. He knows his son.  And he probably knows that Nate purposely bruised my arm.  I stare at him.  His gaze flickers to me and it almost seems apologetic.  And then the expression is gone.  He patiently waits until Nate joins him and then he nods at Dante.

Then they’re gone.

Dante and I stare at each other.

“I’m sorry, Reece,” he tells me. “Nate will get his.  Trust me.”

His voice is assured and calm with a promise in it.

“I don’t want Nate ‘to get his’,” I tell him honestly.  “I don’t want conflict.  I just want to go on with life, okay?  Thank you for standing up for me.  No one has ever done that for me before.  And I’ll never be alone with Nate again.  I know he’s your friend, but there’s something about him…”

Dante nods.  “I know.”

We start to walk back into the palace, but Dante stops and looks at me.

“I don’t want to go in there.  Not right now.  Want to take that tour of the groves?”

Do I ever.  I don’t even want to be in the same building as Nate Geraris.

“That would be lovely,” I smile.  I’m so grateful that I can’t even see straight.

Dante leads me into a different direction. And before I even know it, we are descending on wide concrete stairs into a basement of some sort. 

“The garage,” Dante tells me when he sees the question on my face.  “Come on.  Let’s get out of here.”

He gets no arguments from me.

There are so many cars in this garage.  There are gleaming luxury cars.  Shining sports cars.  Aggressive looking military trucks, even.  And nestled next to a shiny blue Jaguar, there is a sleek black convertible.  I have no idea what kind of car it is, but it is so sexy that it absolutely has to be Dante’s. 
Has to be.

And sure enough, he walks right to it and opens the passenger door for me.  I slip into the luxurious butter-soft leather of the seat and it immediately engulfs me in cushioned luxury.  Dante gets into the driver’s seat, shoves a key into the ignition and revs the engine before he punches at a button and the top slides soundlessly down.   

Dante revs the engines again and it roars, then purrs quietly.   I don’t know a thing about cars but even I can tell that there is a lot of power under this shiny black hood.

“What kind of car is this?” I ask curiously.   There is a fancy trident on the glove-box, but I’ve never seen that emblem before.

“It’s a Maserati,” Dante tells me as we glide out of the parking space. 

“It’s beautiful,” I tell him. And it really is. 

It feels like we are floating on air.  That’s how smooth the ride is.  This car is perfect for Dante.  It’s classy, expensive, powerful.  Back home, the boys drive Jeeps with jacked-up tires or pickups with rifle racks in the windows.  My own car is a little used Honda Civic.  My parents and grandparents had all gone in together and bought it for me for my sixteenth birthday. This is just another glaring reminder of how different we are.

“It’s a car,” Dante shrugs. 

He’s oblivious to the incredible things that he is blessed with.  He’s used to them.  He’s not arrogant or stuck-up.  But you can’t grow up in a family like his and not become accustomed to it.  It’s just human nature. 

But still. 

A little piece of me is panicked by this. 

My heart feels fluttery about his car, by his attitude to his car. 

By the fact that his father is a Prime Minister. 

By the fact that his world is so glaringly different from mine.  Just when I think I’ve got a handle on it, that I’m used to it, something jumps out at me that reminds me all over again.

Our differences are striking and real and this isn’t a fairy tale.  And sometimes, in real life, differences sometimes can’t be overcome.