29. Dante

Chapter 29

Dante

I had back-to-back meetings all day and by the time the last one was concluded, it was nearly eight. I knew Zola was safe in the hotel, but she had not answered my calls so I decided to pay her a visit before I returned to my suite. I knocked and she opened the door a crack.

“I’m about to go to bed,” she said.

“I have something important to talk to you about.”

She pulled the door open fully and stepped aside to let me enter.

She looked unhappy. Her eyes were red and swollen and her hair messy.

“What is it?” she asked. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

I looked around the room. The bed linen was creased. She must have been lying on top of it. I also couldn’t help but notice just how quiet the room was. The television hadn’t even been turned on.

I turned to face her. “I tried to reach you several times but you didn't pick up my calls.”

“Sorry, I was asleep. My phone was set to silent.”

“You can't do that. There could be an emergency and I need to be able to reach you immediately at all times.”

She sighed and nodded.

“Alright.”

“Have you had dinner?”

She seemed surprised. “Dinner? Is that what you wanted to ask me about?”

“No, but have you eaten?”

“I don’t have an appetite.”

Her tone was firm and definite and a very clear message for me to take my leave, but I couldn’t leave. Not while she was in this state. I turned away from her and headed straight to her bathroom.

“What are you doing?” she asked following me. “Where are you going?”

I pulled my jacket off and draped it across one of the chairs by the side. Then I rolled my sleeves up.

“I think a bath will be good for you,” I said.

She stopped by the door. I turned on the faucet. I don’t know the first thing about running a bath for a woman, but I figured it just had to be full, fragrant, and soapy. I looked around at a basket of supplies. There was mineral salt, gel, perfumed oil, and bath bombs. Not knowing which to use I dumped them all into the water. Almost immediately the water began to rise and foam. I considered my attempt successful. I turned around and saw her watching me, amusement in her eyes.

“To start with, I didn't say I wanted to have a bath,” she said. “Also, you’d better shut the water off, you kind of overdid it with the bubble bath.”

I shut the taps off. She was right. "Regardless it would be nice to have one, wouldn’t it? It smells great, it’s warm, and it will help you relax.”

She met my gaze and for the next few seconds, neither of us said a word. I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

“What do you want to eat?” I asked. “Is there anything in particular you want from a restaurant in the city?”

Her expression showed me how disengaged she was before she turned around and walked towards the bed. I called the hotel service as I went over to the sofa chair. I heard their selection, made a variety of choices, and ended the call.

“I need to rest,” she said. “I won’t be able to do so if you’re still here.”

My defense was simple. “I ordered enough food for the both of us. I’ll leave after we’re done eating.”

“You’re forcing me to have dinner with you?”

“I ordered for two,” I pointed out.

She sat up and leaned against the headboard and closed her eyes. A defeated gesture.

“Zola,” I called softly. Maybe it was because of the unusual tone of my voice but she immediately looked up and met my gaze.

“Why did you come back to the hotel early?”

She shrugged. “Why not? I gave your men a chance to rest.”

“You came here to find some sort of escape and relief, and to rest. My men are paid very handsomely to protect you.”

A long stretch of silence followed, and then she said, “My father died on your watch.”

Her words cut deep like a knife and it must have shown on my face because immediately I could see the remorse in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t know why I’m being such a bitch. I know he asked you to divert your men to look for the informant.”

“You’re just still in shock. You haven’t even started the process of grieving yet.”

She drew circles on the bed with her finger. “Maybe … When I get back and get into the program, they’re going to send me far away from everyone and everything I’ve ever known. I’m going to have to start again and I can never share my true self with anyone.”

I looked at her and understood where her unhappiness had arisen from. “Ugo is not going to be free forever. It is my personal mission to make him pay for what he did to your father. I promise you that. He will not go scot-free.”

At my words, she turned to look at me. “Do you mean that in literal terms?”

“The less you know, the safer you will be.”

“Are you going to do it immediately … or are you going to wait for the court to try him and find him guilty?”

“Whichever occurs first,” I said, which was not the truth. He had lived his whole life by the sword and must find his end on it.

I could feel her staring intently at me. “He’s turned my life upside down. I don’t know him, but I hate him so much I want to kill him myself. But even death is not enough for the hate I feel. It won’t pay for what he has done to me?”

I couldn’t help my smile. “And how are you going to do that when you can barely hold a gun correctly?”

At the slight jab, she turned toward me and I could see the clear offense on her face. “You were keeping tabs on me?”

“Learning how to defend yourself is of prime importance to me. I had to be sure the instructions they were giving you were accurate and effective.”

“Will you teach me how to properly use a gun?”

It had been my plan all along but I wasn’t about to tell her that. “Take a bath and eat something. Then we’ll talk about it.”

To my surprise, she got to her feet. “Sure, I’ll bathe in expensively scented water and agree to eat really good food when I’m hungry anyway.”

“I’m used to you rejecting every single suggestion I make,” I said, but she was already disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

A little while later there was a knock on the door. As the three food carts were being wheeled in, she came out dressed solely in a bathrobe. Her hair was damp and falling all over her shoulders. She looked beautiful, clean and so impossibly sensual I had to look away.

“What did you order?” she asked as she went over to the carts. I got to my feet to join her. We sat across from each other and ate bits of all kinds of food. Muscles, steak, chicken, spaghetti carbonara. Nothing made sense. Only that she was naked under her robe and I wanted her, but I had promised her father. We ate silently until she turned and caught my gaze.

She went still for a moment. “You usually eat in silence?”

I nodded. “Always. Unless I’m out with friends.”

“So … when are you going to teach me to hold a gun?”

“After dinner.”

She nodded again. After we had eaten, I stepped out to retrieve my gun. I set it on the table before us. She gazed at the gun, then she moved her attention to me.

“What kind of gun is this?”

“It’s a 9mm Glock. It has relatively low recoil so it’s easier to control and aim accurately.”

“Oh,” she said as she stared at it.

“Your father really never taught you how to use a gun?”

“No. Maybe he didn’t think I was in danger.”

“He must have. He had measures in place,” I said.

She looked at me in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“From the time I came to your house until my trial was completed and even about two years after I think, he had at least two security personnel on you at all times. I assumed he would have taught you how to protect yourself. Maybe he didn’t want you to be afraid.”

“Yeah,” she said, her gaze back to the window. “He kept a lot of things from me. I knew it and I had no problems with it. That was his world and I didn’t really have an interest in it.”

I knew it was time to leave. I grabbed my phone and jacket. “You’re not alone. You have me. I’ll help you … in whatever way you need.”

“For how long?” she asked.

“For as long as you need,” I replied.

She leaned forward and picked up the gun. She turned it around, as though she was admiring the polished steel, and then she put her forefinger in the trigger hole.

“There are no bullets in here?” she asked.

I slid my hands into my pockets. “No.”

“Why?” she asked, a corner of her lips tilting in dark humor. “Scared I’ll shoot you?”

For a brief moment there I felt my heart miss a beat. She was gorgeous. I found myself admitting to myself once again, and it wasn’t in a glaringly obvious way. Rather, her beauty seemed like something that occurred to you the moment you saw her but you needed quite a while to understand. There was innocence in her gaze, but at the same time mischief, and a whole lot of sorrow. It made me wonder if there was a time when she had been truly completely happy. If there had been, then more than anything I wanted to know what had caused it so I asked her.

“Why would you shoot me?” I asked.

She smiled. “I could find a reason.”

This made me smile. “Like what?”

“We didn’t go all the way yesterday,” she said. “Shouldn’t we finish what we started?”

“You are driven by pain and a need to escape,” I muttered.

“Take off your shirt,” she said.

My cock throbbed in my trousers. I knew I should go, but I couldn’t move. I stared at her. She was forbidden to me.

I stood as still as a statue as she came forward and began to unbutton my shirt. She kept her gaze on me until all the buttons were undone. Then she pushed the shirt off my shoulders and gazed at my body. Her lips curved into a slow appreciative smile.

“You shouldn’t do this because you want an escape from the hurt,” I growled.

She smiled sadly at my words. “Can you take me back to the days before my father died?”

I stilled at her words.

“Because that’s where I want to go, but I can’t, can I?”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I promised your father I wouldn’t,” I whispered hoarsely.

She pushed me down to the chair. “You’re not going to. I’m a big girl now and this is what I want.”

She stared pointedly at me as she pulled the robe up her thighs and before I knew it, she was astride me. She held onto my shoulders and lowered onto my lap and her warmth settled against the bulge in my pants.

My relations with women in the past had never been tumultuous. Obviously, I took enjoyment from their soft skin, their beauty. It was enjoyable, but I always thought of it as a passing excitement. Soon it would be over and they would go their way and I would go mine. And it was always so…

Until now, I found myself holding my breath. She brushed her hair over her shoulders as her gaze lowered to my lips.

My hands went to the shapely curve of her hips. She leaned forward to kiss me. I could taste the red wine we’d shared. “Don’t you want me?”

“More than you know, Zola, more than you’d ever know, but I promised your father,” I whispered.

“He’s dead, Dante. He’s dead. I don’t think he would give a shit if you fucked me,” she cried and began to sob softly.

I held her close to my heart and felt the terrible grief in her shaking body. “Let me dry your hair.”

She turned her face away. “Do what you want.”

“Stay. I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later I returned and saw her seated in my chair with her glass of wine once again in her hand. She looked dejected as she stared out of the window.

I found an outlet nearby and plugged it in.