Page 25 of Dante

He stops at the very end and knocks.

“Dante? I have something for you,” he says, flinging the door open.

Dante is sitting at his desk. Leaning over it is a beautiful woman with long black hair.

I feel a surge of jealousy so hot it stings.

She straightens up immediately, smoothing her skirt as she eyes my long, dark wig.

“Gina. Why are you here?” Dante demands.

“I... I was at home, and Uncle Silvio stopped by,” I stammer. “He asked if he could take me to see the casino.”

Dante looks at Silvio, his expression unreadable. Silvio just smiles.

“I enjoyed meeting your new wife, Dante. I wanted to get to know her better.”

Dante gives the woman a quick nod. A dismissal.

She leaves without a word. Silvio follows her, giving me a final, patronizing squeeze on my shoulder.

When the door clicks shut, I’m left standing in front of my husband like a child in front of the principal.

Dante doesn’t move from behind his desk.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

I lift my fingers to the wig, having almost forgotten about it.

“Angie and I passed by a salon, and I just had a whim. Wanted to see how the other half lives with dark hair.”

My attempt at humor dies under his gaze.

He stands and walks toward me. The look in his eyes is similar to when he came at me with the silver scissors. But darker, if that’s even possible.

I take a step back. The wall meets my shoulder blades.

“I... I thought you would like it,” I say, my voice faltering. “We were shopping and⁠—”

“Quiet.”

Dante stops a foot in front of me. His pupils jet black. His jaw locked tight.

His eyes skim me from my wig to the too-short dress, and over the bare stretch of my thighs.

My nipples tighten under the thin fabric, and his eyes catch the movement.

“Hands at your sides.”

I drop them.

“Eyes on me.”

I lift them.

He braces one palm flat against the wall above my shoulder. Then he leans down, and lets the back of one knuckle drag slowly from the line of my jaw down the side of my throat.

Just the knuckle. Nothing else.