Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“Do you mind driving me to Dante’s office?” I ask after I’ve greeted him. “I’d like to surprise him for lunch. I can always take a car, but I suppose you’ll have to accompany me.”
He climbs down the steps and opens the back door of the city car that’s parked in the driveway. “It’s my job to escort you, Mrs. Morici.”
I thank him and get inside.
I’m lost in thought as we drive to the office, staring through the window while contemplating how to broach the subject of this morning. A restaurant is hardly the place for an intimate discussion, so it will have to wait for tomorrow as Dante will be home late tonight. My stomach ties into a knot when I think he’s probably going out on another job.
It’s close to one o’clock when Ulysses turns into the street of Dante’s office building. As we approach the Italian restaurant, he curses under his breath.
Alarmed, I tear my gaze from the window. “Is something wrong?”
He catches my gaze in the rearview mirror. “I totally forgot. Mr. Morici has a lunch appointment today. He’s not in the office. Shall I drive you home, Mrs. Morici?”
That doesn’t make sense. Ulysses doesn’t strike me as someone who forgets anything. “I’d like to go to the office anyway. We’re here already. I may as well say hi to Penny.”
Ulysses shifts in his seat. “I think Penelope called in sick.”
He’s lying to me. What’s going on? Why doesn’t he want me to go to Dante’s office?
Just then, my gaze falls on a man that stands out from the pedestrians crowding the sidewalk. It’s not only because of his tall, muscular frame and the ink on his hands. It’s not only his handsome face or the way his strong body fills out his dark suit. It’s the way he carries himself—with ease and confidence. It’s the power he exudes, the dangerous vibe that surrounds him. I stare at that man as he walks down the street, a man I’ve welcomed in my bed and heart, a man for whom I’ve never put up walls.
Dante.
He’s walking next to a tall, gorgeous woman with blond hair hanging like a shiny curtain to her waist. Her black coat matches his suit. They make a formidable pair, moving heads as far as they go. She stares up at Dante with a dazzling smile as he guides her around a puddle of water with his hand on her back.
“Fuck.”
The expletive reaches me through the white noise that rings in my ears. It takes me a moment to realize it was Ulysses who’s spoken.
He rolls along slowly as we near them, watching me as if he expects me to jump out of the car and confront them.
They stop in front of the Italian restaurant, turning to face each other. Dantes smiles and says something. Whatever she replies makes him laugh. The gesture brings out his dimple, the one he normally tries to hide by smiling a practiced smile.
Taking her arm, he guides her up the steps. The owner himself opens the door. He shakes Dante’s hand and pats his back. The woman holds out her hand. The owner takes it and kisses her knuckles without touching his lips to her skin.
My stomach bottoms out. I feel sick. Because if he doesn’t touch her, I know what that means.
Dante glances around, looking up and down the street, and then he ushers the woman inside, and the owner closes the door behind them.
Ulysses looks anywhere but at me.
I feel stupid and small, wishing the earth would open up and swallow me.
Keeping my head high, I say, “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll have lunch with Jazz.”
Trying hard not to cry, I give him the address even though he likely knows it.
“Do you want me to come up?” he asks as he parks in front of her building.
“No.” I get out before he can come around the car and open the door for me. “I’ll be fine.”
For once, Ulysses doesn’t insist. He probably understands that I need a moment to find my composure. He does, however, follow me to the entrance.
A neighbor exits the building. He nods in greeting and holds the door for me. Thanking him, I slip past him into the lobby.
“Wait.” Ulysses presses a palm on the door to keep it open. “Do you have your phone?”
I take my phone from my handbag and show it to him.
“Good.” He glances around the empty lobby. “Call me if there’s a problem.”
I try to smile, but my attempt is weak. “It’s Jazz, Ulysses. There won’t be a problem.”
He considers that for a moment, and then he gives me a tight nod before stepping back and letting the door swing shut.
My heart falls to pieces as I climb the stairs. I ignore the elevator in lieu of the exercise. I need to move, to run. I don’t know where to. I just want to get away. I want to trust Dante, but what I’ve seen… I don’t know what to make of it. Did I push too hard this morning? Did I win that fight only to drive him into another woman’s arms, one who doesn’t challenge his control and make him feel weak?