Page 78 of Shattered Chords

I made a mental note to ask my daughter who he was later on if the opportunity presented itself and if Malik’s true profession wasn’t outed before the end of the party. Or I could google him on my phone. Harper would do just that.

But after careful consideration, I decided against it. Too tacky.

The second we moved past the initial introductions, footsteps sounded down the hall and Dante’s figure emerged from behind the stairs.

There was a slight hitch in my breath. I didn’t know why, but perhaps it was because he looked somewhat different in his own house. He was decadent and beautiful despite his simple outfit—a pair of low hung jeans with rips across his knees and a black T-shirt that stretched seductively across his chest, showcasing some of the ink that adorned his arms, which he continued to hide while at my place. He wore no shoes or socks, and I found that cute.

My pulse skittered through my chest, suddenly becoming fast and hard, and I questioned my sanity yet again. My instinct and my body were in total disagreement.

You have no business being attracted to a man like him, Camille.

“Hey, you made it.” Dante crossed the room and leaned in for a quick hug. By any means, the gesture was perfunctory, merely a formality, because we’d never hugged before, but shaking hands with him would be odd.

Then Dante bumped Ally’s outstretched fist. “I see you’ve already met my roommates too.” His gaze darted between Snowflake, whom my daughter was cuddling, and Malik, who stood off to the side with both hands now buried in the pockets of his slacks and a grin that seemed almost permanent.

“Will you excuse me for a moment? I should change out of these and into something more appropriate.” Malik jerked his chin down, motioning at his attire, and disappeared upstairs.

“So you’re here,” Dante said.

“We wouldn’t have missed it.” Ally smooched the puppy before setting him down on the floor. “Happy birthday.” She thrust out her hand at him, the box with the bow hanging awkwardly in the space between them.

“Happy birthday,” I added quietly, but my words sounded like an afterthought. I also didn’t want to steal my daughter’s thunder.

Dante’s eyes changed. Something similar to surprise lurked there. “You didn’t have to get me a present, Hendrix,” he told her.

“I wanted to,” she insisted, red coloring her cheek, the one that wasn’t hidden behind the curtain of purple-highlighted hair.

“Okay...well…” He accepted the gift, seemingly at a loss, which was so not him. “Thank you.” He studied it with curiosity. “I should open it.” A statement and a question.

“You should,” I agreed. My daughter worked hard to find the right present. What would one even get a man who had everything?

“Why don’t we do it in my music room?” Dante motioned toward the stairs and started in that direction.

Visibly nervous, Ally slipped her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and fell into step behind him, then I followed.

The space that he led us to was at the rear of the house. Big and windowless, stuffed with dozens of guitars, amps, and other equipment that looked a lot like Ally’s but was probably ten times more expensive. Framed posters, awards, and photos lined the walls.

Strangely, this room felt like the only properly lived-in room in the entire house. Dante’s character was splashed and smeared across each and every surface like paint against canvas. The madness of his existence. The decadent luxury.

“Wow!” Ally rushed toward a white guitar in a case that was sitting on a stand opposite the door. I didn’t even need to see her expression to know she was amazed by the instrument.

Dante shot me a sideways glance and winked.

“Can I touch it?” She spun and pressed her hands together as if she was praying.

“Go ahead.” He nodded, his gaze sliding to me again for a brief second. There was a subtle smile on his lips, warm and artful, and I returned it.

I’d brought a swimsuit.

Because the text message said so. Granted, it took me over two hours to work up the courage to lose my dress and join the rest of the small crowd that wasn’t as shy. The afternoon heat and the sight of Ally and Malik splashing around in the massive pool that stretched out along the terrace finally convinced me that it was okay to let the man who’d recently declared that his interest in me wasn’t just platonic to see eighty percent of my bare skin.

I’d never been self-conscious about my body. I ran and worked out several times a week. The need to stay healthy and in shape had been pounded into me by my mother since my childhood, and at times, I wondered if it had simply become a part of my DNA.

But here and now—in the company of a man who’d definitely slept with more than a handful of intimidatingly beautiful women in his past—the swimsuit affair terrified me.

When I finally emerged from the pool house reserved for Ally and me and our things, my stomach was tight with nerves.

Dante was handling the grill. Yanneth, who was his property manager, was apparently also giving him cooking lessons, because as I walked over the cobblestone path leading to the pool area, she was rattling off some instructions. He nodded, a fierce expression twisting his sunglasses-covered face. Their speech was a mixture of English and Spanish and I could only understand separate words that didn’t make much sense if put together. It was the gestures that revealed what exactly they were doing.

---