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His eyebrows draw together, and he looks so angry I almost take a step backward but fight to stand my ground.
“I’m not firing you.”
“Thank you.”
I walk to the door and yank it open.
His tone is filled with determination as he snaps, “I’m not letting you end things between us.”
When I step into the hallway, I hear him come after me, and a moment later, his fingers wrap around my arm, and I’m spun around to face him.
“Admit it. You want me as much as I want you. It doesn’t fucking matter where we come from or who we are. All that matters is how we feel about each other.”
I shake my head and lie through my teeth, “No. All I want is for things to go back to how they were before we met.”
I can see my words are hurting Dario, and it makes it impossible for me to hold the tears in.
As they roll over my cheeks, I whisper, “You’re an amazing man, Dario. I’ll always treasure our time together.”
“Stop!” he snaps, then he yanks me against his chest.
Before I can push away from him, his arms lock around me, keeping me imprisoned in his hold.
His irises turn black, and with a dangerous expression tightening his features, he says, “You are mine. I will never let you go.”
I try to push against his chest, which only makes him tighten his hold on me. When it borders on painful, I whisper, “You’re hurting me.”
Instantly, Dario lets go of me, and as worry blends with the anger on his face, I say, “I’m okay. You just held me too tight.”
He shoves his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Tesoro.”
I give him a pleading look. “I need to get back to work.”
He nods, then says, “When I’m done with the rehearsals, I’ll come to find you so we can talk without people accidentally hearing us.”
Nodding, I walk back toward my cart, and grabbing the mop, I fight the urge to glance over my shoulder.
All I want to do is run into Dario’s arms, but instead, I focus on cleaning the floor.
Chapter 19
Dario
I can’t focus on the rehearsal, and halfway through, I hold a hand in the air and say, “Everyone go home. Come in an hour earlier tomorrow.”
Mrs. Stafford gets up from where she’s sitting and heads in my direction.
When she stops near me, I mutter, “Go home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“I just want to apologize again. I should’ve handled the situation better. It won’t happen again.”
I take my phone out to show her she’s dismissed and press dial on Eden’s number.
It rings longer than usual before she answers, “Hi.”
“Come to the auditorium.”
“Okay.”
