by Krista Lakes
I find the heavy wooden door with his suite number. The placard is blank on the door, as if he doesn't want anyone to know he is here. I can't say I blame him. Given his status, he probably has people bothering him all the time. The office building is nice, but definitely not the trendiest. This would be a good place to work without having wannabe clients harassing him all day.
The door opens on smooth hinges and I step inside. The lobby is bare with only a couple of tired, gray waiting room chairs. I walk through it to the only door that looks like it might contain something. I knock this time and the sound seems to echo through the room.
"Come in," Dante says through the door. I push it open, unsure of what I'm going to find.
This room looks entirely different than the threadbare lobby. A lamp in the corner gives off a warm light that makes the room comfortable and welcoming, especially after the dismal, gray entrance. Dante stands at the window, peeking through the closed blinds at the street below. He's wearing a suit and jacket, and it's kind of weird. It's like he's wearing his father's clothes.
A heavy, black desk fills the center of the room with a comfortable-looking leather chair behind it. Two bookshelves filled to the brim line the walls along with a filing cabinet and two paintings of seascapes.
I'm hot. After walking in the cold in that skirt, the heated room is making my cold hands prickle.
I head straight for Dante. I need him to fill me, to take my mind away from the girl and from Victoria.
"Hey, what's the matter?" he asks.
"Shut up and kiss me," I say, coming around the desk.
As we kiss, I can see his own hunger begin to rise within him. I unbutton and shrug out of my blouse, letting it fall to the ground. There's a burning in my core in a way that only he can put out. I can feel how excited he's getting already. His hands go behind me for my bra, unclasping it and letting it drop to the floor. I can't wait, I practically attack him. I have to get the image of that little girl out of my mind.
“I want you to fuck me, Dante. Not make love to me,” I whisper in his ear. I need this. I need him to take me away from myself. I don't want a gentle love-making session. I want something that mixes pleasure and pain and makes me forget about everything. I need it hard and I need it now.
He pulls away from me a little bit. "Are you sure?" I can see the dark hunger swirling in his eyes.
I bite my lip and smile, nodding. "Take me, Dante. I'm yours to take as you want.”
His eyes darken and he suddenly seems taller. He grabs my hair and pulls me to his desk. I sit on the edge of the wood, arching my back and thrusting out my chest. I want to tempt him. I moan loudly, just wanting nothing but his cock inside of me. He leaves one hand in my hair while the other one begins to hike up my skirt.
He caresses my inner thigh, working his fingers up the sensitive flesh to the cloth of my panties. Without warning, he slips a finger into me. Luckily, I want him bad enough that I have a little lubrication, but not nearly enough to make the penetration pleasurable. I wince. "Careful..." I whine as I look back at him.
He removes his hand and sticks the finger in his mouth, savoring my flavor. His face is emotionless while his eyes burn with a lust I don't recognize. "You said to take you. You sure you want to continue?"
I swallow hard. His erection is huge against my leg. "Yes," I whisper, looking at his pants.
He scrunches his hand in my hair, forcing me to stand and turn so he can push me down onto the desk. He's stronger than me but I don't fight back when he pushes down on my low back and rips my skirt down my legs. My nipples harden against the cold of his desk.
"Stay there," he commands. This isn't the Dante I know. It's his voice, but it doesn't sound like the Bond I met in the piano bar. Still, I'm so turned on I just hug his desk.
I feel his hands behind me, suddenly wrapping his fingers around the crotch of my panties and tearing. A mixture of fear and arousal spikes my heart rate he pulls the pieces of my panties down each leg, keeping just a strip of the fabric holding it together. He traces a finger down my spine, down the line of my butt and to the v between my legs. I spread my legs side to give him access. He forces one finger inside of me, but this time I'm ready. I'm already so wet. I want more than just a finger. I start to moan. "Dante..."
"Shut up," he growls. His finger drops away, leaving me aching for more. I hear his footsteps go to the front of the desk and I raise my head to look at him, but he grabs a handful of my hair and pulls up. I squeak with surprise and pain as he forces my head up. His crotch is right at eye level for me and his pants are unbuttoned and open. When I look up at his face, he just smiles. "Make sure to get it nice and wet."
I do what he says, taking it in my mouth. He begins to fuck my mouth roughly, lubricating it, taking what he wants. My breasts stick to the surface of the desk as I raise and lower my head. My core is made of fire and this is stoking the heat. Tears spring from my eyes when he goes too deep, but I'm loving every minute of it. This is what I wanted. What I needed. I needed
He steps back and goes back around to the other side of the desk. I get on my tiptoes, opening myself up for him. His hard length leans against my ass, and he poises himself at my damp entrance. He pushes into me, making it feel good for him. It immediately scratches the itch, and I find myself rocking back at him.
He puts his hand on my back, holding me down. He's fucking me hard, ramming his entire length as deep into me as he can go. It's violent and rough, but I love it. It's making me forget my past.
His hand traces the curve of my low back continuing to palm my ass. He spreads my cheeks wide, watching as he plows into me. He pulls out of me and grabs my hair again. I stumble to my feet as he drags me toward the window, my torn panties trying to trip me as I walk. At one point I stumble, but he just keeps going, pulling my hair with him and causing me pain as well as pleasure. I love it. I want more.
He pushes me onto his desk, pinning my arms above my head as he rails into me. My head hangs off the edge, pleasure finally taking over the memories that threaten to crush me. This is real. This is now. I don't have to worry about what happened then.
“More,” I whisper. I'm so close to losing myself to him. It's a drug to forget and he's getting me high on him.
Dante thrusts harder, his body slamming into mine. There's raw power and hungry lust fueling him now. He's now primal and needy. I welcome it.
I feel him start to shake, his body finding the ultimate pleasure in mine. This is what I need. This is where I need to be right now.
I close my eyes and take all of him. The guttural sound of him coming sends me over the edge, and my body contracts around him.
We stay that way for a long time, locked together and breathing hard. Slowly he steps back. I lay panting on his desk.
"Are you okay?" Dante asks, his eyes still on me.
I slide to the floor. Now that we're done, the memories are coming back. They aren't as overpowering this time.
“I think so,” I whisper. He wraps his arms around me. Somehow, the gentle strength of his arms after the intense strength of before is more soothing than anything I could have expected. I let him hold me, and slowly the memories of an unwanted kiss that led to my mother's death start to fade.
“I want to go home,” I whisper, suddenly empty of energy. I just want to curl up in my bed.
“I'll take you home myself,” he says, gently smoothing back my hair.
I nod. He helps me dress and then brings me downstairs. He calls a cab and lets me rest on his shoulder the whole way home without saying a word.
He tucks me into bed with a kiss.
I know that I am safe with him.
Chapter 13
"Where exactly are we going?" I ask two days later, peering out from the limousine window. My breath is fogging the icy glass and making it hard to see.
"I told you, it's a surprise," Dante answers nonchalantly, leaning back in his leather seat. His white button-up shirt is open at the collar and I am st
rongly considering opening it further. The backseat of a limo has plenty of room and privacy for where I want this date to go. He shakes his head slowly, his brown eyes knowing exactly what I am planning. I have to wait.
I slump back in my own seat and cross my arms. I know I look like a irritable, spoiled brat. Dante rolls his eyes, but a sliver of a grin cracks his face. I can tell at least he is considering my idea.
"We're here," he says as the car pulls to a stop. "Behave and later we can play."
The way he says the word play sends a small shiver down my spine. I like it when we play.
The door to the limo opens and the driver helps me out. I leave my coat in the car and my breath catches in the cold afternoon air. Dante is right behind me and I can feel his warmth. In front of us is the Hayden Sphere. I'd seen it, but have never been inside. I know it is part of the American Museum of Natural History and that they just redid it a year or so ago. It looks like a clear cube with a giant ball inside. It certainly makes me think of something from space.
"The planetarium?" I ask, turning my head to look at Dante. He grins.
"You said you never get to see the stars anymore," he explained, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and guiding me toward the building. "Well, this afternoon we are going to see some stars."
I barely remember saying that in passing. I'm impressed he remembered at all. The clear night sky is something I miss from my old life. I am more than happy to trade those small twinkling lights in the sky for the sparkling lights of the city.
We enter the the glass doors of the museum and start to wander through the exhibits. I'm not really paying attention to Jupiter's red spot or even that Pluto isn't given its rightful place as a planet anymore. I'm focused on Dante.
His hand is on my shoulder as we read an exhibit display. It's hot through my thin, silk blouse. I close my eyes and try to think, but all I can concentrate on is how good it feels to have him touch me. For a moment, I let myself dream. The two of us, married and happy. A wedding with me in a white dress and him waiting at the end of the aisle.
Except, as I walk down the aisle in my thoughts, Victoria Russo is there. Her cold eyes pierce my happy thoughts and ruin my imaginary wedding. I open my eyes and let Dante guide me to the next display. I need to talk to Aunt Sophia about her.
The museum is blissfully quiet with only a couple of other patrons browsing the exhibits. It seems strange to see anywhere in New York quiet, but it is a weekday. A small boy, no older than four years old, points up at one of the planets lining the museum and shouts with glee. His mother smiles and picks him up, keeping his excitement in check. He is the only child here. It must just be a slower day until school lets out and the children come flocking to see the planets.
"Are you close with your parents?" I ask Dante, watching the mother whisper to her child about the stars. The happy duo look like something from a sappy Mother's Day card commercial.
“I'm a good son,” Dante answers noncommittally, his eyes following mine to the mother and child. It's slight, but his jaw tightens. “I know where my family loyalties lie.”
"Do you talk to your mom a lot?" I keep my voice light and easy, even though my heart is squeezing into my throat. I want him to say no. I want him to say that he doesn't listen to a thing she says and that the woman has no real power over him. I want the conversation with her to be nothing but an empty threat.
Dante turns his full attention to me. There's something ancient and dark in those dark eyes. His face is hard and I know I'm treading on dangerous ground with this subject. "She runs the Russo Family and she is my mother.”
I try to smile like it was just an innocent question, but my heart sinks a little. She runs the Russo Family... which means she has power over him. For a moment, I wonder if we're going about this all too fast. There are too many ways that Victoria can sabotage this.
Dante walks to the next display, leaving me to catch up. The edge is gone from his voice and the easy-going smile of youth crosses his features as I join him. "What about you? You close with your parents?"
"They're dead, so not really," I say, bitterness making my words short. “Sophia is my mother's sister. She took me in when my mother died.”
"I'm sorry," Dante says, wrapping his arm around me. He's warm and I am safe. For a moment, I wish that we were different people. I wish that we were normal. That we didn't have the family pushing us together or anyone wanting us to stay apart. I wished that this could be a boring story without any of the danger or stress.
"It was a long time ago," I say.
He kisses my head and smooths my hair with his hand. "Any siblings?"
"No. My dad died when I was a toddler and my mother never remarried.”
"A brother and a sister," he answers, but doesn't offer up any more information.
He guides us to the next display. I wasn't finished reading the last one, but I go with him anyway. It takes me three steps to realize that he's been subtly moving us through the museum on a schedule. I didn't even realize he had been doing it. Something about the ease of which he moves me along bothers me. I don't like not being in control. If we're to be married and our families joined, I need to be in control as much as he is.
"You said you used to be able to see the stars," Dante says, pointing to a display with a picture of North America. "Where did you live?"
I know he doesn't mean anything by the question. It's something that a fiance should know about their betrothed, but it irks me. I should be glad that he hasn't pried into my life and found out all of this from other people. He's asking me, yet I don't want to talk about it.
Unjustified anger heats my center. The fact that it's unjustified just makes it worse and now I'm angry at myself too.
“It doesn't matter. There's no one there to go home to.” The only person left in that town is the one person in this world I need to run from. They are the person that killed my mother.
I want to snap at him, but that isn't fair. I take a deep breath. It isn't his fault that I have a tragic past. I remind myself that he's in love with me and that I am in love with him.
"Dante..." I turn to look at him, and my heart aches. His dark brow is tight and it just makes him more beautiful. “It's not that interesting. Or important.”
“It is to me,” he says, taking my hands.
I sigh. I don't like talking about this. I don't like thinking about that day.
"I grew up in the suburbs outside of Detroit,” I say softly. “It was just my mother and me. She didn't want to be in the mattress business. She was a professional piano player. She was amazing. People would come from all over to hear her play.”
Dante's hands are warm around mine. I concentrate on that.
“She started seeing this guy. He seemed like a good choice. He was campaigning to be senator. I thought he loved my mother, but...” My voice falters a little. In the eyes of an adult, the issues are easy to see, but the eyes of a child are blind. “He wasn't a good person. My mother would come home with bruises. She told me it was always an accident.”
Dante's hands tighten and I can see anger flash in his eyes.
“Anyway, it was a week after my twelfth birthday. He drove me home from school. My mother wasn't home.” My shoulders tighten with the memory. It's taken years to work through this moment. Sometimes, I wake screaming from nightmares where I relive this moment. “He kissed me. He touched my chest and said I was growing up into a such a lovely young woman. I tried to leave the car, but he grabbed me. He left bruises on my arm. He hurt me when I didn't give him what he wanted.”
Dante growls. He's angry for me.
“I told my mother. She was furious. It was her breaking point. She was leaving him. She had me pack a bag while she went to tell him it was the end. She said she'd destroy him for this. She died in a car crash on the way home.”
I leave out the lingering questions I have about her death. I've tried to figure out how it happened, but it never seems to make sense. I've read the repor
ts. I've even been to the site of the accident. It doesn't feel right. The words in the report don't match what I saw. Something about it makes me uncomfortable. I have no actual proof that he killed her, but I can't seem to shake the feeling either. I just know that somehow, John Norwood is responsible for her death.
“I'm so sorry,” he says, his hands still tight on mine.
“Uncle Tony and Aunt Sophia took me in. They made me their own.” I'm more confident with this part. This part doesn't make my chest feel too tight. This part is where I feel safe again. “Family means everything to me now. They saved me from him. He's a powerful man and he wasn't pleased when they took me. They made sure I was safe and well cared for.”
"Oh, Vesper," Dante whispers my name. Concern replaces the anger in his eyes. He touches my face and I realize I'm crying. The pads of his fingers smear the tear across my cheek.
"I don't want to tell you because it isn't who I am anymore. I don't want you to look at me differently." I wish my voice didn't waver so much, but I can't help it. I don't like being this emotionally exposed to anyone. He wants to marry me and the small voice in the back of my mind keeps telling me that if he finds out who I really am, he will leave and never come back. I know that it's not true, but that doesn't stop the insecurities from whispering through my mind. "Can you understand?"
"Yes," he says, pulling me into his chest and wrapping his arms around me. I relax into him, feeling safe for a moment.
“You have any dark past I need to know about?” I ask him.
“I'm in the mob,” he whispers, making me giggle.
I feel a little better now.
"Would you still like to see the stars?" Dante asks after a moment. "I mean, I get it if you don't... the stars being part of your past and all."
I ignore the implication of his words. "No, I'd like to see them. Stars don't have pasts."
"What?" One of Dante's dark brows lifts. We start walking toward the planetarium entrance.