Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Don’t be a dick,” I snap.
He grits his teeth. “Well, we’ve both made it clear.”
“Yeah, F marriage,” I say.
“F marriage,” he repeats, a slight smirk on his face. “You’re so innocent, Mia.”
“I’m not,” I tell him.
He looks at me, something fierce and dark flickering in his eyes. It’s that look that convinces me we’re wrong. We can’t F marriage. We can’t pretend we don’t feel this way. I’m like a trashy pop song, but it’s true. He’s seeing into my heart. A passionate mood grips us, just like when we were hugging last night.
“You are,” he says huskily. “No matter what, you’re innocent.”
This fills me with so much warmth I couldn’t explain it if he asked. Things aren’t simple between us. After this, there might not even be an us, but at least we have these moments. Maybe that’s how I’ll have to think of this connection—a series of paintings, bright and full of life, but in the past, over with now.
“Let’s get started,” I say, trying to sound upbeat.
“Is this really how you see me?” he says hours later as we stand in front of the canvas together.
I feel invigorated. Something is intoxicating about the artistic process. It’s a rush to the head, and maybe the orgasm is adding to it, too. As I worked, Dante sat in the chair, reading the book Inferno by Dante. Apparently, he’s read it several times.
I turn to Dante in real life, his gentle smirk on his lips and a few strands of silver in his otherwise dark hair. Then, to the canvas. It’s based on my wolf-dog piece, the transitioning. Only this time, it’s Dante, starting as an angel with a heavenly glow on him, then becoming shadowy and gray, and finally, his demon face emerges. His eyes are the same.
“Your eyes,” I whisper.
He touches my shoulder softly. “It’s amazing—the eyes. You’re right. They’re the most human part.”
“The most you part,” I say.
“An angel and a devil,” Dante says, raising his eyebrow. “They do look like me, both of them.”
“But it’s inaccurate,” I tease, touching his arm. “You’re just an angel, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” he says sarcastically.
“You’re a devil when you need to be.”
He looks at me seriously. “I’ll always be that.”
There he goes again, throwing around words like always. Yet we both saw how we reacted to that marriage-talk slipup.
“I’ll have to get this to you after the drop-off,” he says. “You won’t be able to show up with a painting.”
“So I’ll see you after, then?”
“Yes,” he says, as if the idea of not seeing me is unthinkable.
“We managed to go so long without running into each other.”
“I’m not much of a socializer,” he says gruffly, “but I’ll make an exception. In fact, my ma wants to invite you for dinner. I don’t know how we’d make that work, but—”
“I’d love to do that,” I cut in. “Do you really want me to meet her?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I think you’d get on great, but if the wrong people found out we were meeting… I’m surprised the cops haven’t contacted me since we were texting before you disappeared.”
“It’s the Family,” I tell him.
“That means Luca or Elio would’ve had to get ahead of the game on that.”
“They’re looking out for you,” she says.
“We’ll figure this all out,” I reply. “For now, we just need to get you home.”
“Where are you staying tonight?” I ask.
“You tell me, Mia.”
“I don’t want to do anything else,” I whisper, “but last night, when you—”
“I’ll hold you all night long,” he says huskily, suddenly pulling me into a hug.
I wrap my arms around him and press my face against his chest, savoring that feeling, that closeness, that warmth. He hugs me even tighter. “I’ll hold you all night long. I won’t even sleep. I’ll make the night last as long as it possibly can.”
“Keeping watch over me?” I whisper.
“Protecting you,” he says, squeezing me.
I turn my face to the side, listening to his heartbeat as I look at the painting, his demon face, his angel smile.
The night is over too soon. I try to stay awake as I wriggle tighter against Dante. He holds me close, and soon, I’m flowing into a dream. It’s tangled and messy. I see myself with a veil on, but then it’s torn away, and Dante moves to one knee and opens a ring box, but spiders crawl out. I wake shuddering, Dante whispering, “It’s okay, Mia. I’m here.”
I grab his hand as if to make sure he’s real.
“Sorry, bad dream.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” he tells me. “Hey, how likely are you to be searched?”
“What? Searched?” I say. “No way. None of them would—Elio, Luca, Colt—and I won’t let anybody else.” My skin crawls when I think about who else might try to search me.
“Then keep the cell phone,” he says. “They’re both burners with end-to-end decryption and self-deleting messages.”