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I pivot back to her. "Oh, and Jenkins is on a rant. You might want to reconsider Jag getting you out of here."
"And what happens then?" she asks, eyes fixed on the pages.
"What do you mean?"
She sighs, laying down her book again. "Let's say he actually gets me out. Which is a big if, mind you. But then what? Do I just go home and pretend none of this is here? Does Jag come back to help? And I'd be leaving you alone to deal with everything. You obviously don't have anyone in your corner, because as much as Dante seems to feel some sort of way about you, he's got too much on his plate to really protect you."
I don't know how to respond. She's right—no one is truly in my corner. Dante doesn't have the capacity to fully protect me. Hell, he can't even do it now. Which is why Grant had such an easy time throwing me in that room. I don't blame him, but no one has cared since Roman and Ember. Not like that.
"Some sort of way?" Dante grumbles from behind me, and I tense. "I don't feel ‘some sort of way’ about Aelia."
I can practically feel the air quotes he uses, though I don't understand why he's making fucking statements. If he doesn't want to have feelings for me, fine. I knew going into this it was a weird situation. There isn't even a future for us, since I probably won't make it out of here. He's wily, so I'm sure he'll go back to his normal life, whatever normal means for him. I don't actually know a lot about MCs, and he won't talk about it. To talk about what we are to each other in front of Jag and Avery is just disrespectful.
My cheeks burn and I clamp my lips together. I'm not going to stand here and listen to him stutter his way through an explanation. Except he wasn't even stammering. His voice was as bold and smooth as usual. Bastard. How he can be so calm and collected tells me all I need to know. Now I'm really pissed I blurted out my question earlier about us fucking. I should have stuck to getting myself off in the shower.
Pivoting, I march to the bathroom. Jag huffs as he leans against the wall, but I ignore him. No use dragging him into this either. He probably wants to be here even less than I do. I barely make it before the tears fall, dropping onto my shirt and disappearing into the fabric under the garish sequins. At least no one will know I've been crying after I get under the water.
I kick the door closed behind me, but it doesn't shut. Spinning around, I glare at it, but then jolt back as Dante calmly closes it. He leans against the wood, crossing his arms as he studies my face.
My mind and body war with one another. I want to be upset, though I should have suspected something was coming. But my body can't decide whether to light up for him, or cry because I lost something I never actually had.
"You want to talk about what just happened back there?" Dante asks, his face unreadable.
I tip my chin up. "Well, Avery gave me a book I'll probably never get around to reading. I freaked the fuck out being left without a handler. And you and Jag came up with a way to destroy all the Guild sites in other cities."
"And what Avery said?"
"You're going to have to be more specific."
I bite my tongue, hoping to stop my tears. I don't know why because it never works. It only makes my eyes water more, and it looks like I'm a blubbering fool.
He tips his head back, then meets my eyes again. Something burns deep within the darkness, sending a shiver down my spine.
"What about your question earlier?" he asks.
My gaze skips away, and I wrap my hands around my waist. Can I have secondhand embarrassment from myself? Or is that just regular embarrassment? He doesn't owe me anything. I'm acting like a teenager in my first relationship, which isn't surprising since I have no experience, anyway.
"Can we just forget I said anything?" I mumble. Spinning around, I put the book on the counter.
Heat from his body sinks into me as he presses his chest against my back. I glance up, breath hitching, and our gazes collide in our reflection. Shit, he looks pissed. Apparently, my answer wasn't enough. His hands land on the counter, boxing me in.
"You can't keep running from conversations, Aelia."
"I'm not running. It slipped out, I thought about it, then realized it was not a question I should have asked in the first place." I try to hold my voice steady, but his nearness is messing with my head.
"We're a little busy with other things and there's usually two other people hanging around. There haven’t been many chances to fuck you, angel."
I sigh, closing my eyes. "Which is exactly why I don't want to talk about it. It's fine."
"It's not, but I doubt I'll be able to convince you of that. What about Avery's assessment?"
"What about it?" I attempt to step away, but he doesn't move. I huff, glaring at him in the mirror, and he smirks.
He brushes his lips along my shoulder and up my neck. I tense, locking down the urge to give him more access, to melt into him, to force him to reassure me. Even with my limited experience, I know I don't want someone who makes an effort merely because I told them to. He shouldn't have to force himself to seduce me just because we had sex before. I don't even know if that's a fucked-up view or not.
He rests his chin on my shoulder. That can't be comfortable, but he doesn't seem to mind. Whatever he's searching for in my eyes, I doubt he'll find it. I have nothing to give him.
"You have no idea how I feel about you, do you?" he murmurs.
