home. Not working, after all. Be careful, wherever you are.
She slid down into the suds, earbuds in her ears, her phone perched on the ledge of the tub, blasting music. It took a minute or so for him to respond, her phone lighting up. Not working, either, so don't worry.
Where are you?
At Michaels.
Who's Michael?
Fuck if I know.
Her brow furrowed. Why would he be at someone's house he doesn't know? Why are you there?
Because they got what I need.
What do you need?
A fucking psych consult for doing this shit, probably.
What are you doing?
Being a damn Girl Scout for you.
She stared at that, even more confused, when another text popped up from Dante. Be home in a bit. You're distracting me.
She scowled at that, typing K, figuring that to be the end of that, but her phone lit right back up seconds later.
Don't K me. I deserve that shit spelled out for all the trouble I'm going through.
She rolled her eyes, typing OK.
Setting the phone down, she closed her eyes, sinking further into the tub, hoping to clear her mind and forget about everything that had happened that evening. She mumbled along to the words, letting the warm water soothe her muscles, relaxing so much she dozed off.
Something startled her, drawing her out of her light slumber. Blinking, Gabriella sat straight up, a chill ripping through her as she turned her music off. Goose bumps coated her, the now cool water nipping at her skin. Her teeth chattered, the bubbles dissolved. Crossing her arms over her chest, she climbed out of the tub, snatching up a towel when she heard the faint sound of footsteps.
"Dante? Is that you?"
No answer.
Silence permeated the apartment. A door shut in the distance. Her heart stalled a beat before kicking in. It was hard living in the city, differentiating noises, the walls thin and floorboards creaky. Innocence felt alarming, while the dangers of the world registered as whispers on a breeze instead of fiery explosions. Up was down, and it all went round and round. Sometimes gunshots were just fireworks but occasionally the sparkling bangs masked the suppressed sound of a bullet from a silencer.
Gabriella shook it off, wrapping the towel around her before letting the water out of the tub.
Stepping out of the bathroom, she walked down the short hall toward the bedroom, stalling in the living room when someone moved. "Dante?"
Dante turned to her, holding up a piece of paper. "This is about me, I'm guessing?"
The letter from the hospital board.
"So it seems."
He glanced back at the paper before shoving it in the envelope. "Emotionally vulnerable, my ass."
"It's true," she said, taking the letter from him. "Technically. You were hurt and you were grieving. You had nobody. But I was there, advocating for you."
"Don't do that," he said. "Don't act like I was just some fucking wounded animal."
"I'm not. I'm just saying—"
"I know what you're saying. I was beat down, at my lowest, and you swooped on in and made me feel something, like I caught Stockholm Syndrome, but that's bullshit. Because I've never been that weak, Gabriella. I'm not going to roll over and beg for the first pretty face that comes along."
"I didn't mean—"
Dante cupped her cheek, his thumb roughly grazing over her bottom lip. "Look, I love you, and I could stand here and list dozens of reasons why I do—you're funny; you've got guts; you understand my life—but not a single one of those goddamn reasons will be because you saw that tube in my dick."
She cracked a smile as he wrapped his arms around her. "Too bad the hospital board won't see it that way."
"I'm sure you can convince them." He nudged her chin, making her look at him. "When in doubt, just tell them you'd rather have your pussy shrivel up and die than let Dante Galante inside of it."
"That's a horrible lie," she whispered. "The biggest lie ever told."
Leaning down, he kissed her. "That's good to hear, because I'm pretty sure I'd die if I never got to fuck you again."
He gazed at her in silence, and she stared right back, those goose bumps still coating her.
She shivered in his arms. "I should put some clothes on."
"Or," he said, "I might have a better way to keep you warm."
Dante backed her up to the bedroom as he yanked away the towel, dropping it. Her eyes flickered around the apartment in the darkness, ghosting across the unlocked front door, eyeing the dangling chain. "You broke in again?"