Page 120 of He Should Be Mine
Dario doesn’t understand. He can’t. Rick’s sexual predatory nature is like a color on a spectrum that Dario cannot see. It is not his fault. I’m fucking glad he has never been made to feel small. But the dismissal stings. He should believe me.
“Trust you?” I spit. “That’s all I ever do. It’s all you ever say! And nothing ever changes!”
I whirl away from him. A glimpse of his stricken expression burns into my retina. I storm the three steps to my bedroom and slam the door behind me.
Fucking men.
The bane of my existence. Assholes, the lot of them. I wish I could be done with men and live alone with a collection of dildos and a couple of cats for company. That would be perfect.
I yank off my high heels. My room is a flipping mess from getting ready. The drawers of my dresser are open. As is the closet door. Fuck it. I don’t care anymore. It is nowhere near as messy as my life.
I throw my shoes into the closet. They hit the back wall with a thud, and something that sounds like a crack.
Oh crap.
A fresh wave of fear washes away all my anger. It sounds like I have broken something, and now a thousand memories of childhood punishments are buzzing in my brain like a swarm of angry bees.
I tiptoe over to the closet.
There is a really large crack zigzagging along the back wall of the closet. There is even a hole. About the size of a large coin.
Fuck.
Okay. I have to breathe before I pass out. There are no cameras in here. So I can just shut the closet door next time Rick visits and he will never know.
I drop down to my knees to inspect the damage. I might be able to more than hide it. Maybe I can cover it with something. Paint over it maybe?
A waft of Dario’s cologne embraces me.
What the hell?
I lean forward and peer through the hole. A dark suit, and a glimmer of light from a badly fitted door. I blink and my eyes adjust.
Oh my god. I’m looking at Dario’s closet. I have to be. Our rooms are mirror images of each other. There are no other bedrooms in the apartment. No other closets.
“Molly, you’ve gone quiet. Are you okay?”
Dario’s voice makes me jump. It sounds as if he is pressed against my bedroom door. I don’t think he ever left the hallway. He’s been right there the whole time. Waiting, listening. Caring.
My heart thuds. Dario’s room doesn’t have any cameras in it either. Rick didn’t think he needed to watch his loyal soldato sleeping.
“Look in your closet.” My voice sounds strange. Harsh and robotic. Full of urgency and insistence.
Dario moves. His footsteps sound out, heading towards his room. I remain frozen and motionless in place.
He listened. He didn’t question or even hesitate. He simply listened to me.
Light fills my closet. I blink. When I open my eyes again, I find myself looking at Dario through the hole. He is sitting in his closet. We are mirror images of each other.
His eyes turn a shade I have never seen before.
“Get back,” he says softly.
I scramble to obey. I get to my feet and back up until I’m standing in the middle of my bedroom.
An explosive bang rings out, but I don’t flinch. I watch as Dario’s expensive leather shoe appears in my closet.
Bang. Bang.
