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Full tank
PAID IN FULL is stamped on the bottom in bright-red ink.
What in theactual fuck?
Right now, I’m kind of regretting walking out of Dante’s home with absolutely zero intention of seeing the man ever again.
I haveso many questions.
But it’s for the best, right?
I had a good night.
The final tether to my old life was snapped, and in a way, I feel like I’m finally the new person I’ve been working toward. And even if I had a fantastic time last night, if dinner was fun and sex was excellent, and sleeping was unbelievably restful . . . It’s the wrong time.
I am entering a minefield, walking into armed warfare with what feels like a princess wand. I can’t have anyone holding me back, anything in my mind keeping me from doing whatever I have to do to get what I want.
And Dante Romano seems like the white-knight type, seeing a woman in what he deems to be distress and wanting to fix it.
He would be a distraction.
So he’ll remain just a fond memory.
And with that, I turn off the car, take the keys, slam and lock the door, and head into my apartment to remind myself of my plan and what I’m doing here.
Seventeen
-Dante-
It’s cute how she tiptoed out the door, like I didn’t take note of the moment her breathing changed, the millisecond when she returned to this world.
I've never been a good sleeper, but something about the way her soft, low breaths sounded like a gentle, constant beat gave me the best sleep I've had in years.
No way in hell am I letting that go. Letting her go.
Two years ago, she saved me, and I lost her.
Six weeks ago, she started working at Jerzy Girls.
Six weeks ago, I demanded a private show.
Six weeks ago, I started the process of trying to convince myself of what a fucking horrible idea this was, ignoring that all the same and starting this obscure game with her.
24 hours ago, I stopped fighting it.
18 hours ago, I took steps to get her into my bed.
12 hours ago, I heard her moan my name for the first time.
But Delilah Turner has been mine since the moment I laid eyes on her.
Not a thing about that woman slips through my notice.
So as the door clicked behind her, as I watched an Uber come to the curb and pick her up, I grabbed my phone and made a call I’ve been waiting to make for six long weeks.
Longer, if we’re being honest.
Eighteen
