Page 19 of Do It For Me
As I stand up, Dante pulls me against his body with one hand around my hip. To my surprise, it doesn’t bother me at all. His touch is warm and tingly, in a good way. I haven’t felt this close to someone since Tara. Not even my mum can make me feel this comfortable. Since I came back, she’s always sad, and that’s a constant reminder of what I’ve been through.
“I only have one umbrella,” he explains, placing it over our heads. “I didn’t think it would rain. I was too nervous to think straight.”
“I still don’t understand what’s making you nervous.”
“Well, you, of course.”
“Why me?”
I wouldn’t kill a fly. He looks lethal—Ishould be nervous. In fact, Iamnervous!
His grip tightens as we reach the door.
“I do not need to earn your family’s affection, but yours is absolutely necessary to me.”
“Why? You don’t want an unhappy wife?” I tease.
He huffs. “I wish to have a wife who is as passionately in love with me as I am with her.”
Oh…
“But you don’t even—”
My father yanks the door open. My stomach twists.
This is wrong. This is so wrong, and I’m not just talking about the look on his face or the anger in his eyes.
I don’t want to go in.
I don’t want this to end.
Iwantto be with Dante.
I’ve never had a happy day like this one, not even when Tara was around. Dante laughed with me, never shouted, or even raised his voice. He listened to me; he wanted to hear me! No one ever wants to hear me because I’m boring…
I might not love him yet, and I won’t for a while, but I enjoy his company more than I enjoy being in this house, near my father’s presence, or locked up in my room.
Dante doesn’t beat me, humiliate me, or remind me of what happened three years ago. At least, not on purpose. He doesn’t insinuate or ask about it, even though I know it’s painfully obvious something’s wrong.
My father glares at my fiancé, but Dante doesn’t flinch. He stands tall, chest out, chin raised; he’s even smirking.
“It’s late.”
“She was safe and sound,” Dante says, squeezing my hip.
My heart flutters. I don’t want him to let go.
“From now on, I hope you bring her to me before eleven o’clock.” My father glares at me. “And you,” he spits, “you should be more responsible. You wouldn’t want to…relapse.”
Meaning, being raped again.
I shiver, and tears gather in my eyes.
“I assure you; Lana won’trelapseby being with me,” Dante says, his voice cold and harsh.
“You can’t know that,kind6.”
Dante tenses, and I pat his back in an attempt to calm him, just like my mum used to do with my brothers. But I immediately regret it. I don’t know if that’s an appropriate gesture.
