Page 85 of Vicious Souls

“I’ve already been in contact with the contractor who did the original work, King. There’ll be hell to pay once I’m through with him.”

She fixes me with another disbelieving look.

“You’vebeen in contact with the contractor?”

I know exactly where she is going with this, and I don’t want to do this right now. This will probably be the last time I try to fool Ms Bossy Pants into believing me.

“Be ready for us to have dinner together at six,” I tell her, my arm cradling her waist as I drop her off at the office. “I don’t want you waltzing up there while a stranger’s in your home. I’ll pick you up at six and we’ll head up together.”

* * *

When we enterthe penthouse a few minutes after 6pm, we are hit with the aromatic medley of every Italian herb and spice known to man. I watch as King stops in the doorway, spellbound by the wafting scent, then scrunches her forehead in confusion.

“Oh my God, did the plumber cook while he was here?” she asks, walking toward the kitchen in disbelief. If I know anything about King, it’s that she’s territorial about her things being used. I’m amused that she thinks it’s possible the plumber used her kitchen. And I’m even more amused by the fact that she would never guess what happened here today.

I remove a thin scarf from my suit pocket, and stand behind her as she surveys the spotless kitchen. I am so close, I know she can feel my breath on the back of her neck and her body stiffens in anticipation.

“We’re going to play a little game,” I whisper near her ear, and I watch as goosebumps appear along the length of her arms. She is wearing a sleeveless red dress that hugs her like a wrap and falls to her knees, making me weak inside at the sight of her bare legs. “Do you want to play, King?”

I always ask her this question. I would never do anything to cause her discomfort or unease. That is the beauty of why we work so well together.

At her nod, I proceed to wrap the blindfold around her head. I move my hands up and down her arms slowly, appreciating her skin under mine as I cherish her body in ways I’ve never done with another woman. My arms embrace her, my mouth slides to her ear and I nip it, causing her to moan. She is already delirious. But I don’t want her that way, I want her wide awake for what is to come.

I grab her hand and guide her gently to the dining room. Once there, I resume my place behind her and place my hands on her hips. I walk her into the room slowly, until we are in the middle of the room, next to the dining table. I look around the room, take in our surroundings, and crack my neck. This is happening. Just the way I planned it.

73

KINGSLEY

Inever know what to expect of Dante. He calls me his bag of contradictions. But he’s a box of mysteries I can’t wait to unpack. As soon as he lets me in. He’s started to open up, but I know there’s so much more I need to learn about him. And he still has that way of deflecting whenever I try to probe into his past. He just doesn’t want to share. But what he doesn’t know is that patience is my middle name.

I know immediately when he tells me maintenance has to carry out work on my place that he is up to something. But I go along with him and let him have his fun, interested to see what he has planned. He always surprises me with every little move he makes, so why wouldn’t I let him have his way?

He walks me through the house that I’ve now memorized like the back of my hand until we finally enter the dining room. The blindfold may be hindering my sight, but it is in no way preventing me from inhaling the aroma of food that is doing something to all my senses. The smell is most overpowering in the dining room, and my tastebuds are warring against each other as my mouth waters. Food – it’s the mouth’s equivalent of sex.

Something is dancing against my feet as Dante continues to guide me into the room. He tells me to be careful; I take slow steps and let him lead me. Until we come to a stop somewhere in the middle of the room, and he is no longer behind me. I can feel him in front of me, his presence overwhelming the air. He unties the blindfold from around my head and watches my face. My eyes meet his for only seconds before I cast them around the room. There are balloons everywhere. Large ribboned balloons are hanging from every inch of the ceiling. Gold helium balloons. Lining the ceiling and littering the floor. They’re everywhere, and they’re gorgeous. Several stands are scattered around the room holding fresh floral arrangements; white and champagne roses blend with stunning vibrant green foliage. And the air – the air is softly showering the room with a thin sprinkling of stardust that is gorgeous to behold. The room looks magical.

The room was definitely organized by a designer or event planner, and I take in my surroundings, memorizing every minute detail and filing them away for further reference somewhere down the track. I never want to forget this gorgeous night, or the way my dining room looked when Dante decided to surprise me with dinner.

I look towards the table and my heart catches in my throat. All the dishes we enjoyed from that first lunch at Papa Gino’s are laid out on the table in crystal domes. I shift my gaze to Dante’s, who stands quietly watching me with lazy, hooded eyes. He knows exactly what I’m asking. I don’t know how he managed all this, but he’s somehow put together a dinner for us unlike any other. Every time I think he can’t possibly surprise me with anything more than what he’s already done, he goes right ahead and proves me wrong. And no matter how hard he tries to avoid my questions, I’m learning so many things about Dante that I wouldn’t otherwise know were it not for the way he operates.

This room… this set up… tells me that he’s a romantic. The trouble and effort and cost he’s gone through to organise the night leaves no doubt about that. The way he dominates me in the bedroom gives me an insight to his passion, his desires and his need to control. The way he directs my eyes towards his whenever we are around others tells me he’s possessive. And I like that. I like that a lot. I like everything about Dante that I’ve come to learn so far. And there’s not a single thing about him that I would ever consider changing.

“The food smells amazing,” I murmur, wanting nothing more than to throw myself at him and maul him. I am so turned on by the thought and care he’s put into the night, my knees are about to give out. As though sensing this, he guides me to the table, pulling out my chair before he sits opposite me. “It looks exactly like the way Papa Gino made it for us.” I clap my hands together gleefully as I set my napkin across my lap.

“That’s because Papa Gino cooked everything,” he informs me, and I stop my hand midway to my cutlery and throw him a surprised look.

“Gino is here?”

“I flew him in to cook dinner for us,” he says, and I’m absolutely floored. Having that sort of money affords you many things, but I mean… flying in a chef?

“Is Gino in the habit of doing you favors?”

“This wasn’t a favor. The reasons for his trip were two fold; to cook for us and to check prospective business opportunities here.”

“Here? In Seattle?” I’m gobsmacked but secretly delighted.

“It’s been in the pipelines for a while now. Let’s eat before the food grows cold.”

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