by Vivien Vale
Dante punches another man mere seconds after his first assault. The man grabs his head in anguish and retreats, tagging another to finish his job. Hah. Coward.
But one turns into five, and five multiplies into ten. It’s now ten to one.
Shit. They become a sea of darkness—leather-clad men with dark features fueled by anger and toxic testosterone.
It’s a heavy mix, one that I’m becoming more fearful of each passing second. I was scared before, but watching them swarm around Dante, I’m now panicking.
He pins one down with little to no effort. But they keep popping up, wanting more. Fighting for their livelihood, their manhood—I’m not sure—but they won’t give up.
I stare at Dante, amazed and afraid. He looks like a gladiator, fighting off the animals programmed to destroy him. I can’t look away.
He searched for me. Then, finding me like this, without any hesitation, he took it upon himself to rid me of this trouble. Helping and supporting me, like a man in love does.
I’ve been so wrong. This man, my Dante, is volunteering himself to protect and fight for me.
He could’ve left me and have gone into the arms—or bed—of another woman, one of the many eager for his attention. But he’s here, showing me that he’ll do anything for me.
Unlike the gladiators he resembles, he is not enslaved. His livelihood doesn’t depend on winning this fight and destroying these animals. His livelihood relies on me and my well-being, the life he is fighting for.
Warmth envelopes my body, and my pain dissolves. I look at him—surrounded by scoundrels foaming at the mouth—and I see my husband in a whole new light: a man who loves me, and the man I love.
I can’t believe I didn’t see this before.
I do…I love Dante!
I quickly snap back to reality when I see a man punch him hard in the gut. He kneels over from its suddenness, gasping for breath. Shit. Vulnerability is their specialty and just like last time, they take advantage.
After a punch in the face and a kick in the back, Dante is on all fours, hovering over the concrete. He looks at me with the most pained expression, and it breaks my heart.
I feel useless, hopeless. I don’t know what to do. I need to touch him, tell him I love him.
A man plunges at him from the side with a knife.
“Dante!” I scream.
He reacts immediately, grabbing the man’s arm, the knife now inches away from his chest. Standing, the assailant holds the knife pointed at his heart. Dante, holding him still, struggles to push him away.
I gasp, closing my mouth shut, trying to contain my reaction. One wrong move, and the knife would be in his heart. Stabbing him, leaving him for dead.
This is too much.
He can’t die.
This can’t be it.
It can’t be the end of our story. We’ve barely had one.
I need to tell him I love him. I have to tell him that he’s the one, the one I want and need. He can’t die not knowing.
I’m holding my breath as we all stare at the two of them. The crowd of men and I are aware of the severity of this moment—it’s life or death. Time stands still.
With a swift kick to the man’s knee, Dante forces him to the ground. He twists the man’s arm, loosening his grip on the knife. It falls beside him, the sound echoing in the empty aisle of the Colosseum. I exhale loudly.
There’s a quick scramble, the others trying to retrieve the weapon. The largest man does. Shit.
Luckily, Dante is aware and ready—blocking the man’s jabs, expertly pivoting his body away from his sudden movements. His focus is solely on him and the knife.
The other men try to force themselves between them, hoping to distract Dante. They’re just as intimidated by the knife, so their distractions are minimal—a random slap, trip, or scream. Nothing worthy of Dante’s attention.
A sound in the distance—a tourist screaming—freezes us all. The men are all suddenly ready to scatter, not wanting to get caught in the brawl. The large man, however, only has eyes for Dante.
He plunges forward as Dante stands still.
But he misses him by an inch, ripping a hole in his shirt instead.
Dante is quick to react, grabbing the man’s arm and bending it opposite of where it naturally goes. The man screams in pain and punches Dante in the face.
I’m stunned, immobile.
Once the knife drops to the ground, Dante and the man go at it. There is a flurry of fists, blood, and grunts. It’s hard to make out where one man begins and the other ends.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch her,” I hear Dante say.
He gets the man in a headlock and punches him repeatedly.
“You’ll fucking pay, fucker,” he yells in time to the beat of his punches.
It looks like he’s in power position, winning and beating the beast. I exhale, yet again, but this time with more relief.
Shit. Another man, with that damn knife, looks like he has a plan. Behind Dante, he readies himself for an attack.
Fuck this. I can’t stand idly by, watching the man I love fight for his life and mine. I put him in this situation, I need to get him out.
I can fight; I’ve proven that already.
Silently, I walk towards the knife-wielding man, making sure I have a direct path to him and that he doesn’t notice me. Lining up perfectly, I run towards him, jumping on his back.
I grab onto his neck with as much strength as I have. I hear him gasping for air, the movement lifting me up and down.
He drops his knife and grabs onto my arms. He roughly jerks his body, wanting to throw me off. Hell, no.
I need a weapon. Something to get this man down. Quickly, with one hand holding onto his Adam’s apple and my nails digging into skin, I reach for my shoe.
Using my blunt heel as a weapon, I hit the man on the back of the head.
Thank God for I wore my new Louboutins today.
He buckles in response. Yes!
I continue hitting him. His head, his chest, his back…every part I have access to. He falls into submission, face-forward on the ground.
I stand above him, feeling vindicated.
Putting my shoe back on, I look around to see where Dante is, hoping he’s okay.
The large man is now on the ground, lying like the one I just beat. I smile and relax a little. The other men have left, leaving us with the harmless leftovers.
I see Dante, exhausted, standing beside his attacker. He looks at me with that same pained expression.
Without thinking, I run to him. I know he’s in pain and hurting, I see it. But I need to be with him, on him, touching and holding him.
Telling and showing him I love him.
Because I will not lose that chance…ever again.
I jump on him, wrapping my legs around his waist. He winces in pain but holds and pins me to him.
I frantically kiss him all over, leaving nothing on his face and neck untouched. I want to kiss his pain away, heal him with my love.
We gasp for air, not wanting to let each other go. Afraid of what might happen if we do.
Abruptly, I pull back.
Breathing heavily, I stare into his eyes. I feel tears well up in mine, and I refrain from hiding them, wanting to be exposed and vulnerable at this moment.
With all my sincerity and confidence, I tell him.
“I love you, Dante.”
Dante
Nicole looks so peaceful and irresistible when she sleeps. As tempting as it is to slide closer to her and wake her with my fingers, I carefully pull away instead.
After washing up quietly, I scribble a short note. I set it quietly on the pillow near her head, tiptoeing closer to the bed.
I can’t seem to stop myself from reaching out and smoothing an errant hair on her cheek.
But this will be worth it.
The note lets her know I’ll be back by mid-day, and not to go anywhere. Nicely, of course.
I debate tying her
to the bed. Always a wonderfully kinky thought—but maybe in a few more years.
I smirk with these thoughts as I creep out. It’ll be worth it.
It’s hard to surprise her if I’m constantly with her. And I want to be with her.
She’s a drug, I’m sure of it.
Entering the lobby, I’m happy to see a few taxis waiting. The driver first in line hops out as he sees me coming.
“Can you take me to Atelier Flavia?”
“Si, signore.”
He opens the car door for me.
I spend most of the ride on the phone, setting up my elaborate plan.
I quickly call the limousine companies the concierge referred. It’s a short notice, but the third call was a success.
As we pull over in front of the exclusive boutique, I pass him the payment with a hefty tip.
“Do you mind waiting? I should be quick.”
Nodding yes quickly, he jumps out to open my door.
Atelier Flavia’s front entrance has a waiting room, where a sharply dressed young woman greets me.
“Welcome, I’m Venus.” Her handshake is limp and awkward. “What can we help you with today?”
Her appreciative smile puts me on guard.
“I’m here to pick something out for my wife.”
I intentionally drop the wife bomb. It’s one of the nice perks of being married.
An easy deterrent. At this point, it’s hard to imagine ever being attracted to anyone else.
Nicole makes everyone else pale in comparison.
“Right this way, signore.” She turns and escorts me into a private room. “Would you like any refreshments?”
“No, thank you. I’m in a bit of a rush. I’m interested in a ball gown, preferably in a deep jewel tone. Maybe a blue or green or purple?”
“Certainly sir. Is there a size you can give us?”
“A size six would be good. Maybe I’ll take some water.”
This is a little out of my comfort zone.
“Excellent, signore. Just give us a few moments.”
She shuts the door quietly behind her and leaves.
The room has a three-sided mirror with a platform in front of it.
I briefly think about how I’d love to bring Nicole shopping with me to a place like this.
I’ll put it on my pending to do list. Her beautiful body is made to be showcased.
My phone dings, and I smile as I read the text from Nicole.
What are you up to?
I type back, Wouldn’t you like to know! xx
Two minutes later, with a small soft rap on the door, Venus pops in and hands me a bottle of water.
“Just a few more minutes, signore.”
Just as she completes saying this, three women in gowns slide in behind her.
It takes thirty seconds for me to decide. With the plunging neckline and deep V in the back, the emerald green gown was fit for a princess.
My Princess. I know she’ll love it.
“The green one, please?”
Venus smiles. “Very good choice sir. Sara, please step up to the mirror. Greta and Ana, you may go.”
Sara steps up on the platform and slowly turns in a circle.
The dress is truly exquisite. Crystals or whatever sparkly things decorate the top of the dress. The clusters form a unique scroll pattern, and they slowly disburse after tightening at the waist where it flares out.
The low-cut front and back almost mirror one another.
She’ll love it, and I can’t wait to see her in it.
Her breasts will be perfectly displayed—for me—and my dick perks up at my wandering thoughts.
Shifting and leaning forward, I hide my growing erection. The errant motherfucker.
I take a quick picture of the dress color for future reference.
“Can I get this packed up and delivered immediately?”
“Absolutely, signore. If you want to follow me up front here, we can finalize the address and delivery location.”
Venus holds open the door for Sara, who files out in front of us.
I text Nicole.
Expect a delivery. Get Luciano set for the day. Love you. xx
She responds immediately.
I guess I’ll owe you again. Haha. He’s set. Love you! xx
I settle the bill and finalize all the delivery information.
Filling out a card, I tell her I can’t wait to see her in the gown. To put it on and be ready for a trip out.
At the curb, my taxi driver is waiting. He opens the back door and asks, “Where to next, signore?”
“Albiubagio, please.” I relax into the seat and give him the address for the restaurant.
When we pull up, I know this is the perfect place. I did some research online, and according to its reviews, this is the most romantic restaurant in the city.
The architecture, location, and ambience are exactly what Nicole will love.
I need to make a reservation in person to confirm. This must be special, and for me, that means no sharing. I want the place to ourselves.
I’m going to have Nicole all to myself, for my eyes only.
Walking in the restaurant confirms all of my thoughts and expectations. It’s perfect.
The accommodating woman at the front walks me through the restaurant to discuss the best table. They also boast one of the top chefs in the city. The menu is superb.
“Is your manager available?”
She’s a bit taken aback. But with a murmured, “One moment,” she spins on her practical heels and heads for the back.
She returns with an older, slightly stooped gentleman.
“I’m Piero.” We shake hands, and the man asks, “How can I help you, signore?”
“I’d like to book the restaurant for the lunch hour. Is that possible? What would that cost?”
“Ah, the cost of love. This has been done before. Let me discuss with the chef.”
He shuffles off to the back.
I take a seat and call a florist.
White roses. One dozen. Perfect, just like Nicole.
As I wind down, Piero shuffles up and sits with me. We negotiate briefly before settling on a price.
So, I have the dress, flowers and the reservation.
Now for the final touch. This is the easy part for me.
I direct my taxi driver to Boggi Milano so I can try to look as good as Nicole.
The staff is more than accommodating at Boggi Milano. I explain to them I was interested in a black tuxedo, they pull the requested items quickly and efficiently.
“Can I use the dressing room to get changed now?”
The associate doesn’t seem surprised. He ushers me back into a private dressing room.
I intentionally went with the white roses to be neutral, but my biggest decision will be the complementary tie. Pulling the picture up of the dress, I confer with the associate to finalize my choice.
I stroll out after fifteen minutes. My taxi driver does a double take.
“Very nice, signore.” He opens the door, so I can slide inside. “Where to next?”
“That’s it, sir. Thanks for your driving services this morning.”
Smiling, I settle in to contemplate the afternoon and evening.
I hope Nicole is ready for me—because I’m more than ready for her.
Quickly, I text her.
Ready or not—I’m on my way. xx
I think about her in that gown. Damn.
It may be a long afternoon. Or maybe not.
Who’s to say what we make it up to on our travels?
I chuckle to myself.
I haven’t even seen her in the gown, and I’m ready to take it off already.
Nicole
I read over the text message for what must be the tenth time, the smile growing ever wider on my face.
Whatever Dante’s up to, I have a feeling it’s going to be good.
I run my fingers down Luciano’s head, giving him a good scratch behind t
he ears. He coos in response, tilting slightly towards me.
“What do you think?” I ask him. “Is Dante up to something good?”
He coos again, which sounds like an affirmation to my ears.
Our conversation is interrupted with the rap of knuckles on the door.
“What could that be?” I ask Luciano, already bolting to my feet in excitement.
I cross the room quickly, feet flying across the floor.
Taking a moment, I run my fingers through my hair before answering.
“Mrs. Walsh?” an immaculately dressed bellman asks.
I smile at the title. “Yes?”
“Delivery for you.”
He passes a box to me, larger than I would expect and tied closed with a single red ribbon.
“Anything else I can do for you while I’m here?”
I shake my head no, muttering my thanks even though my eyes are firmly glued to the box in my hands.
“Alright then, have a great day.” He turns to leave, walking quickly to whatever task awaits him.
“You, too!” I call belatedly, forcing my eyes from the box just as he’s about to turn the corner.
I close the door at his departure, already racking my brain for what could be in the box.
I rush to the bed, tearing at the ribbon in excitement. The lid slides off with a gentle rasp, revealing mounds of white tissue paper.
Pulling it aside, I finally manage to uncover the gift.
A small squeal of excitement escapes me as I do.
With trembling hands, I extract the garment—soft green fabric pooling around me as I do. It may in fact be the most gorgeous gown I’ve ever seen, beauty pageants and all.
I hold it up, taking in the view with ever-growing excitement.
If Dante went through the trouble of buying me a dress like this, I must be in for one hell of a day.
Without wasting any more time, I slide the clothes from my body, eagerly changing into the gown.
The fabric caresses gently across me, washing over me in soft waves.
When I, with some difficulty, have managed to secure it on me, I cross to the mirror, taking in my reflection with a grin.
I’ve never felt more beautiful.
I walk back to the bed, green folds grazing my feet as I go. In my excitement, I’ve buried the phone somewhere under mounds of tissue paper.