Falling for Dante Page 17

  I nodded, contemplating his words while I sipped my drink. Erica was more than worth it. I just needed to convince myself that I was too.

  I barreled out of the cab the second it pulled up curbside in front of Dante's building. I had spent hours walking the waterfront, struggling to make sense of everything. While I should have been celebrating Dante's desire to take the next step, something was holding me back. I worried he was forcing us down a path to appease his insecurities.

  We hadn't seen each other much since the awards ceremony. Winning the award, or perhaps the ugly scene with his mother, had propelled him to drive himself even harder at work. Coupled with the fact that I had been spending a ton of time at the mission, we had barely seen each other all week. I had been secretly relieved since I had been able to delay the inevitable a bit longer.

  My delaying tactics were only making it harder to broach the subject. I needed to come clean about everything. It had been hanging over my head for weeks. If Dante wanted to take the next step, then he needed to know the truth.

  Would it change the way he felt about me? It very well could. Fear that it might had stopped me every time it had come up. But I was done with all that. The only way to move forward was with a clear conscience.

  My heart sank when I noticed that Dante's unit was dark. Now that I was ready to spill the truth, waiting even one more minute seemed like a century.

  The street was empty, save for the married couple who lived a few houses down. They waved at me as they hopped out of their car, encumbered with bagged takeout. They hurried inside since the sun had almost disappeared and the temperature was dropping.

  I took one step forward when the nauseating scent of Brent's cologne hit my senses. It took my brain half a second too long to register his form skulking from the shadows. Instinct kicked in, and I lurched towards the building, dread turning my stomach over. But I was too late.

  Brent yanked me back by my hair, dragging me between the two buildings, before my mind could catch up. The acrid scent of garbage filled the air and I had to wait a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dimness.

  "Help! Help!"

  "Shut the fuck up," Brent hissed, slapping a hand over my mouth and nose. I couldn't breathe and I bit down until I tasted blood. Brent yowled, releasing his vice-like grip for a split second. I staggered forward, but he tackled me before I could take more than a few steps, my knees scraping hard against the damp asphalt.

  "Get off of me," I yelled as I writhed and squirmed, doing my best to buck him off. My efforts were entirely futile and only seemed to annoy him more.

  "Stop fighting me or I will have no choice but to hurt you. Do you understand me, you little bitch?"

  "Fuck you," I hissed.

  The blow to my head dazed me stupid. The salty taste of my tears pooled in my mouth with the metallic tinge of Brent's blood. I had to concentrate on Brent's next words, because my head was spinning.

  "Where is the thumb drive, Erica? I need it. There are people involved who will do much worse to me and you if you don't give it to me."

  I stopped struggling, letting his words sink in. "Other people?"

  His sinister laughter turned my stomach. "God, you're still so fucking naive, Erica. You think this is just about you and me?"

  No words came out, because my mind was reeling from his revelation.

  Before I could ask him what he was insinuating, he flipped me onto my back and pinned my arms down. Even in the darkness I could see the menacing glow of his green eyes. I needed to vomit and blessed blackness curled around my field of vision.

  The slap to my face forced me back to consciousness. "Don't fucking pass out on me now, Erica. Here's what's going to happen. We're going to go upstairs, nice and quiet, and you're going to get the thumb drive."

  "Not here. It's not here," I lied. The words were gummy in my mouth and I didn't recognize my own voice.

  "Where is it?"

  "At my brother's house."

  "Fuck!" Brent yelled, letting my hands go to pull at his hair.

  All of my self-defense training was in preparation for this one moment. I brought the heel of my hand straight up against his nose, the strike so hard I heard the crunch of crushing cartilage. Blood splattered warm across my face and Brent reared back with a growl.

  I used the opportunity to scramble out from under him. I jumped to my feet and tore off down the alleyway, ignoring the pain in my head and the stinging in my knees. I heard Brent closing in, but I focused on the narrow shaft of light coming from the street, pumping my legs as fast as they would go.

  I screamed out nonsensical words, hoping that someone, anyone might hear. I glanced over my shoulder and when I turned back around, I ran straight into something that felt like a brick wall. I flew backwards, arms flailing, and landed hard on my ass.

  "Shit. Erica? Are you okay?"

  I thought I was imagining Dante standing there, face darkened by shadow, but then he helped me to my feet. Brent came to a screeching halt, eyes narrowing as he sized up Dante.

  "What the fuck is going on?" Dante asked. I was too shocked and stunned to respond. Dante perused my face and his entire body stiffened with rage.

  He lunged at Brent, but Brent sidestepped him, punching him so hard that Dante fell to one knee. With a feral growl, Dante tackled Brent to the ground.

  "No," I yelled. Light in the unit above us flicked on. "Help! Please help." I hoped that they would hear me and call the police. My purse was at the opposite end of the alleyway, and there was no way I could chance slipping by Dante and Brent.

  The two wrestled with each other, their grunts and groans echoing off the brick walls. Dante landed a blow that stunned Brent momentarily. I screamed again, which distracted Dante long enough for Brent to gain the advantage. They were so evenly matched, I was sure that one of them was going to end up dead.

  Soon Dante was back on top, punching a dazed Brent over and over. The sickening scent of blood and sweat mingled in the air, and I clutched my hand over my mouth to keep the contents of my stomach down.

  The sound of a police siren in the distance distracted Dante. "Babe, are you okay?" Dante asked over his shoulder, his chest heaving from exertion.

  "I'm fine," I lied. My legs trembled and there was a dull pounding in my head.

  "She is fine, isn't she?" Brent said, his voice muffled by the blood spilling from his mouth. The slam of Dante's fist echoed off the concrete.

  "Stop," I screamed. "Please, stop." I couldn't take the sound of flesh pounding flesh even one more time. No matter how much the asshole deserved it.

  "Who is this motherfucker?" Dante yelled.

  "Please, calm down," I said.

  "I'm surprised Erica hasn't told you about me. We know each other well, don't we?" Brent said. Dante's arm dropped to his side.

  Dante looked wildly from Brent to me and back again. He jumped off of Brent, who stayed on the ground, snickering to himself like a lunatic. "What the fuck is he talking about, Erica?"

  "Dante, it's not what you think. I, I-" Before I could respond a police cruiser with lights flashing came to a sliding stop at the curb. A second car showed up seconds later.

  Dante and I were both so dazed, we didn't even protest when the cops ran towards us with guns drawn. All three of us were forced to the ground while the cops scrambled to figure out what the hell was going on.

  It took about thirty minutes to convince the cops that Brent was the perpetrator and that Dante was defending me. Luckily the neighbor in unit 2B had looked out the window, called the police, and corroborated our story.

  As the officer pushed Brent into the back of the cruiser, Brent shouted out, "Erica, don't do anything stupid. You hear me?"

  I turned so I didn't have to see his leering face as the car pulled away.

  Dante slammed his front door shut and I jumped in surprise, my fragile nerves shot from the last hour. The police had finally allowed us to leave with the understanding that we would go down to the station a
nd give a formal statement tomorrow.

  "Were you a virgin when we had sex that first time?"

  I spun around to face him. Blood was splattered across his shirt and still lingered around his nose. After everything we had been through, I was shocked he even cared. "Does it really matter?"

  "Yes. No. I mean, it doesn't fucking matter if you were a virgin, it matters if you were honest with me."

  "You were there, Dante. You saw that I was in pain. Do you think I faked that?"

  He scrubbed a hand down his face. "No. I don't know. Why the fuck did Brent say that? What happened between you two?"

  "I don't know."

  "What the fuck does that mean, Erica? Either you slept with him or you didn't."

  "You don't get it. I don't fucking know!" I shrieked.

  His jaw dropped open as he wrestled with my harsh words. We stared at each other, chests heaving, the dim light from the entryway casting Dante's face in shadow. He spun around and walked away, which was probably good because I was two seconds from slapping the shit out of him.

  "What happened, Erica?" Laced in the depths of his calm voice was something more unsettled, like he was on the precipice of losing it. I understood the feeling. I was still shaking from Brent's attack, adrenaline poisoning my veins.

  I stumbled to the couch and sat down. There was no easy way to tell him. It was time to come clean. It felt like an anaconda was wrapped around my throat and tears stung my eyes.

  "I don't know what Brent did to me. I mean, I know he drugged me, but beyond that I have no idea what happened the four or five hours I was out."

  "Erica," Dante moaned. He marched towards me with a look of anguish that matched the way I used to feel. I'd had over a year to come to terms with what I was about to tell him, but I worried that he would never be able to look at me the same.

  "I met Brent a few years ago when I started running in the same crowd. He was a photographer Hot Shot had hired to work on one of their campaigns." Dante sank down next to me with a weary sigh. "I was attracted to Brent, like so many other stupid girls. He was handsome and knew how to make you feel like the most attractive woman in the room. Which was pretty surprising, considering how many gorgeous women were around. When he offered to do a private shoot for me, I couldn't pass it up. Everything he touched turned to gold, and at the time, I had my sights set on something bigger than Hot Shot."

  Dante rubbed his temples, his jaw set into a hard line. When I paused, he smiled at me and grabbed my hands giving them a squeeze. "Keep going."

  "I went to his house that night. He gave me some ideas for my hair and makeup and looked through my outfits. When he offered me a drink, I didn't think anything of it. He said it would loosen me up. We'd been around each other for several years by this point, so I didn't think I had anything to worry about."

  I looked over Dante's shoulder at the framed photo of the two us on top of the Space Needle, sitting on his mantle. We both looked happy, but the Seattle skyline was laced with dark clouds, perhaps an omen. I wouldn't be able to finish my story if I kept looking at that picture, so I stared at the fireplace instead.

  Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I continued, "The shoot started. We chatted and laughed while Brent snapped away and then-poof! Nothing. I don't remember anything after that. The next thing I remember is waking up on his couch. Naked."

  "I knew I should have killed that motherfucker," Dante said, exploding out of his seat. He paced in front of the coffee table, hands balled into fists and nostrils flared. "Why didn't you tell someone?"

  "I did. I went to the CEO of Hot Shot and my agent. They didn't believe me. They told me that I drank too much and passed out."

  "You've got to be kidding me."

  I shook my head. In some ways, their betrayal had stung worse. When I went to them, I had assumed that they would protect me, but instead they had made me feel like a foolish girl.

  "What about the police?"

  "The next day Brent came to my apartment and threatened me."

  Dante stopped pacing, eyes narrowed to slits, the vein in his forehead throbbing. "What happened?"

  "He assaulted me," I said, staring down at my lap, until Dante's sharp inhalation drew my gaze. "Not sexually. He slapped me around, pushed me to the ground and choked me until I was scared enough to listen to what he had to say."

  Dante bellowed and spun around, placing both hands on the mantle while he sucked in ragged breaths. I cringed when he flung his arm across the mantle, forcing the picture and a few other knick-knacks to the floor, the glass breaking in shards at his feet. I wanted to comfort him, but I was too sickened to move.

  "What did he tell you?" Dante asked without turning around.

  I rocked back and forth, shoving my shaking hands between my thighs to hold them still. "Brent told me that he had photographs that would destroy my reputation and career. That no matter what I thought had happened, the shots would tell a different story. I had been more than willing. And I believed him."

  Dante's head dipped between his shoulders and he cursed quietly. Shame burned in my chest. He had every right to be disgusted with me. I had been a foolish girl. But worse, I was a coward.

  "I know how bad it must sound."

  Dante turned around. The tears I had managed to hold back for the last few hours trickled down my cheeks.

  "Babe, don't cry," he said, lips trembling. He rushed to me, sinking to his knees and wedging himself between my legs. "This is not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

  I wanted to believe him, but I had held onto the guilt for so long that believing anything else was impossible. I had flirted with Brent. Encouraged him, even.

  How could I not feel responsible?

  After wrapping his arms around my waist, Dante laid his head on my lap. Tears dripped from my chin, but I couldn't stop crying. A solitary tear slipped from his own eye and ran down his cheek, trailing a path over his strong jawline.

  "I should have been there for you."

  "That's ridiculous. You and I weren't even friends then."

  "My biggest regret."

  "Stop. You're here now."

  He sat up and cupped my face. "I am. And I'm never letting you go."

  We stared into each other's eyes, every second relieving the doubts I'd had about how he would respond. I wanted to tell him that I loved him. That I always had. But now was not the time. I didn't want the first time to be associated with the horrors of my past.

  "Do you have any idea what he wants?" Dante asked.

  "I took something from him. A thumb drive."

  Dante sat back on his haunches swatting away his unruly tears. "What's on it?"

  "I don't know. But it must be pretty bad because he ransacked my apartment in New York and hurt Jake."

  "He hurt Jake?"

  "Yeah. When we were in Maui, Jake got jumped coming out of a club. And then a few weeks later, my apartment got broken into. I mailed the thumb drive to Damian's place and followed two days later."

  A knowing look spread across Dante's face. "Is that what you were looking for on Christmas Eve?" I nodded. "And you haven't looked to see what's on it?"

  "I don't know which is worse, that I have no idea what happened to me, or that I have been so scared to find out, I've refused to look."

  "Give me the thumb drive, Erica."

  "No," I said with a shake of my head.

  "We have to see what's on there."

  "No way. I'm not letting you see what's on that thumb drive. You'll never want to come near me again."

  "Erica, nothing could change the way I feel about you."

  "You don't know that."

  "Then let's go to the police," Dante pleaded.

  "No. I have no idea what's on it and I can't risk him hurting Lila or Jake again. What if he doesn't appear in the photos? What if they can't charge him with anything?"

  Dante seemed to consider this for half a second.

  "If that were true then he wouldn't have hurt Jake,
or come here to get it. He's desperate. And desperate men do desperate things."

  "So, what do you propose we do?"

  "Do you trust me?"

  "Of course."

  "Grab the thumb drive. There's only one person I know who can handle this."

  "Dante," Finn yelled as we walked into the foyer of Allie's Craftsman-style home. The towheaded six-year-old barreled towards me and wrapped his arms around my legs.

  "Hey, little man, how are you?" I asked as I lifted him up into my arms. The pungent aroma of garlic frying in olive oil greeted us as we moved in further.

  "Great," he squeaked. "Are you staying for dinner? We're having my favorite."

  "Oh, yeah, and what's that?"

  "Spaghetti and meatballs."

  "Finn, why don't you let our guests come in before you invite them to dinner," Allie murmured with motherly exasperation.

  "Who's that?" Finn said, pointing at Erica.

  "This is my friend, Erica," I said.

  "She's really pretty," Finn whispered so loudly everyone heard. "Is she your girlfriend?"

  Laughter bubbled up my throat and I glanced at Erica, whose cheeks blushed pink. "She is really pretty. And yes, she is my girlfriend." I didn't know who was more shocked, me, Erica or Allie.

  "What happened?" Finn asked, pointing to the blood-matted spot on the back of Erica's head. We had changed clothes, but hadn't bothered to shower. Erica smoothed her hair back, trying her best to smile at Finn, whose face was scrunched up in disgust.

  "I fell down the stairs. I'm super clumsy," she said.

  "One time I fell off my bike when I was going super-fast and skinned my knee so bad that I almost died," Finn replied.

  "That did not happen," Allie said, with a snort and eye-roll. "Dinner is almost ready. You two want to stay?"

  "Oh, no, we wouldn't want to impose," Erica said.

  "Speak for yourself, babe," I said. "I'm not missing out on Rosalie's homemade spaghetti."

  "Finn, why don't you go see if Miss Rosalie needs help setting the table? Tell her to add two more plates," Allie instructed.