Page 51 of The Prices We Pay
“I will.”
As we ride the elevator down to the parking garage, I can’t help but think about how right that moment just felt. About how there wasn’t an ounce of jealousy between any of us as they told her goodbye. About how they were ready at a moment’s notice to help her when she needed it. About how certain I am that I would rather die than harm her ever again.
23
Josephine
Holy. Shit.
The elevator door to the guys’ penthouse opens, and I’m immediately jarred at how luxurious and massive it is. With his hand on my lower back, he guides me out of the elevator, and I walk slowly into the main living area, taking in the entire space.
In front of me is a living room with floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides, at least twenty-five feet tall, with matte black beams between each window. Rich walnut flooring runs the length of the space, and a glass orb chandelier hangs from the ceiling. On one end of the room, a large blackleather sofa that is big enough to seat fifteen people sits atop a beautiful earth-toned rug with a tasteful geometric pattern. Across from the leather sectional is a smaller matching loveseat and a brown suede ottoman. In the middle of all of the furniture is a wooden coffee table that I would kill to get my hands on. On the wall, furthest from me, sits a sleek glass fireplace with a huge rustic wood mantle above it that matches the color of the floors. Above the mantle is a flat screen big enough that you could probably watch a Yankees game from the moon.
On the side of the living area closest to me is a round dining table with six chairs, along with a set of ridiculously comfy-looking armchairs facing toward the windows. They look like the perfect place to sit with a cup of coffee and watch the sunrise over the city.
To my left is a kitchen suitable for a Michelin-starred chef. It has sleek black cabinets and white marble countertops. A small pendant light hangs over the island, matching the chandelier hanging over the living room, along withtop-of-the-line appliances. However, upon closer inspection, there doesn’t look to be a spec of dirt in this kitchen. So, either they just had it cleaned, or it never gets used.
I’m practically spinning in slow circles as I assess everything in front of me when Dante says, “Pretty crazy, isn’t it?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Don’t get me wrong, my apartment is nice—really nice, even—but I think the entire thing could fit in this area alone, and I haven’t even walked past the entryway yet.
“Yeah, me either. It took me a long time to get used to it. Some days, I still can’t believe this is where I live.”
Refocusing my attention on him, I realize how utterly exhausted he looks now that he’s in the comfort of his own home, and I remember why I’m here in the first place. “Where do you want to cozy up? Couch or room?”
“Joe, you really don’t—”
Setting my bag on the kitchen island, I place my hands on my hips and ask again, “Couch or room?”
Realizing this isn’t a battle he’ll be able to win, he relents. “The couch is fine for now.”
“Okay, go get settled in, and I’ll make us some tea. Do you have some?” I know chamomile has been proven to help with anxiety and relaxation, but I secretly want the warm drink to soothe my sore throat. Not that I’ll say that out loud. The poor man already feels awful enough about everything that happened. The last thing I need is for him to know that it actually did hurt a little bit.
I saw my reflection in the rearview mirror of Enzo’s G-Wagon; my neck looks significantly worse than it feels. I will admit, I was terrified for a moment, but as soon as I saw the look in Dante’s eyes, I knew something was seriously wrong. He wasn’t there, yet at the same time, he looked absolutely terrified. At that moment, he was gone, and I knew there wasn’t anything I could do to get him back. It was when he started squeezing me harder that I knew I needed help.
Thank god I was able to yell loud enough for someone to come and help me.
Luca, Enzo, and Sebastian all got to me in record time, and they didn’t waste a moment assessing and taking control of the situation. I’m beyond thankful they were there to help—not only to save me but to save Dante.
Because I know that if anything had happened to me, he would have never forgiven himself.
“There’s a container of chamomile in the cabinet to the right of the stove, along with some mugs. Seb likes to drink it when he can’t sleep.” I smile at the fact that the two of us unknowingly have the same habit. “The kettle is on the stove.”
“On it.” When I notice he still hasn’t moved, I wave my hands in front of me. “Shoo. Go find something to watch.”
I toe off my heels before moving about the massive kitchen. As I’m rifling through the fridge for whatever milk they have on hand, I hear the opening scene of one of theHarry Pottermovies playing on the TV. After about thirty seconds, I immediately recognize it asThe Prisoner of Azkaban.
I’m bringing our cups of tea into the living area just as Harry’s aunt turns into a balloon fit forthe Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade when I notice Dante already dozing off on the sectional.
Setting our mugs on the coffee table, I grab a throw blanket that’s thrown over the back of the couch and drape it over him, chuckling quietly at how it barely covers half his body. Grabbing my cup and not wanting to leave him yet, I gently sit down next to him. Crossing my legs, I cozy in to watch this cinematic masterpiece on the most impressive TV I’ve ever seen. Not to mention, this couch literally feels like I’m sitting on a cloud. Just as I’m getting comfortable, Dante sleepily stretches across the length of the sectional, laying his head on my lap. I run my nails across his head while he nuzzles deeper into my thigh. We sit like that for the next two hours. He shifts every so often as he snores against my leg, and I run my nails over his head, arm, and back, wanting to keep him relaxed and at peace as long as I possibly can.
We’re well intoThe Goblet of Firewhen the elevator chimes, signaling someone is here, and Dante jumps up from the couch. “Easy there, Big Daddy.It’s just us,” Enzo announces, with Luca and Sebastian behind him.
I smile at the three of them as they walk toward us.
“Jesus.” Dante rubs his hand over his eyes. “How long was I asleep?”
Setting my well-empty mug onto the coffee table, I answer, “As long as you needed to be.”
