Page 47 of The Prices We Pay
My hands roam every square inch of her body that I can reach, and when a soft yawn escapes her lips, I can’t help but laugh. “Told you you weren’t going to need the tea.”
Her hand slaps at my chest playfully. “Shut the hell up.” She nuzzles her body against mine as if she were trying to get closer than she already is. “Hmmm. Don’t think just because I fucked you, I’m going to be less of a brat.”
I bark out a laugh and scoot us up the bed so we can lay under the covers. Throwing the soft duvet over us, I kiss her forehead and say, “I wouldn’t want anything less.”
And in a matter of minutes, her soft snores fill the room, and I’m left drifting off to sleep to one of the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard.
22
Dante
They fucked.
I know it.
The dickhole couldn’t even make it one night without fucking her.
Not that I blame him.
Or her.
But he could make the whole thing a little less obvious. He’s practically been skipping around the office all morning with a giant smirk on his face. Not to mention, when they got here this morning, the way they looked at each other was wholly different than it was yesterday. It’s a look I haven’t seen in years, but one I know all too well. It’sthe I-know-what-you-look-like-when-you-come look.
And I swear to god, Joe was walking a little funny.
Basically, the two of them might as well be wearing neon signs on their foreheads that say, “We fucked.”
I’m not mad they did. Not jealous, really, either. Well, that’s not true. I’m not jealous that they had sex. I’m jealous of the fact that Enzo had the courage to put himself out there. He knew he wanted her from the moment he saw her, and he’s not letting anything hold him back from having her.
What it must feel like… wanting to be loved andknowingyou can have it.
With a less-than-positive attitude, I muster up the best smile I can manage as I place a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting on Clara’s desk. Her giant blue eyes look up at me, crinkling at the sides as she gives me the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. “Happy Birthday, Gorgeous.”
She stands from her desk, her wide hips knocking into the giant bouquet of balloons sitting nextto her desk. Before I can think twice about it, she wraps me in a hug. Well, she attempts to. She has rather short arms, and I’m a rather large man. “Thank you, Dante. Red velvet is my favorite.”
“I know.” She eats one for every special occasion. Or when she’s sad. Or when she’s on her period. Or any time she sees a stray animal on her way to work. It’s not hard to miss that it’s her favorite dessert. But if it makes her feel special by thinking I paid close attention, then I won’t comment on it.
She takes a step back, knowing I don’t like physical affection for long periods of time. Nodding toward the giant black and green balloons, I ask, “Who are those from?”
“Josephine had them sitting here first thing this morning. Must have had them delivered because they were here before she and Lorenzo got here. Aren’t they amazing?!”
“If you love them, then they’re perfect.”
She claps her hands together excitedly. “I do. I really do. You all spoil me too much.”
I give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Not nearly enough.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” She winks before walking back around her desk. Sitting in her chair, she slides the cupcake across her desk and looks up at me one last time. “Thank you. It was really very sweet of you.”
“Anything for the birthday girl.”
I grab the coffee and chocolate croissant I set on the table in the hallway—figuring Clara was going to squeeze me to death and not wanting to spill it all over her—and walk toward Joe’s office.
I knock against the doorframe, and she answers without looking away from her computer, “Come in.”
I’m able to walk all the way up to her desk and set the cup and croissant on her desk before she finally moves her gaze from the computer to me. The weight on my chest lessens slightly as her eyes light up—like it does whenever I’m near her—realizing I’m the one standing in front of her.
“You know you don’t have to get me a coffee every morning. I have that fancy machine over there,” she protests, but wiggles in her seat as she reaches across the desk to grab it and the croissant.
