Page 44 of When Sinners Fall
“Somewhere dirtier.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Because that place last night wasn’t dirty enough for you? You’re insatiable.”
“No, because your body moves well enough for another place now.” I grab hold of her hand and swing her the way we’re going. “It’s time to show me what you can really do with it.”
"It is, huh?"
"Yeah."
Ambling the sidewalks, we turn a few corners and avenues until we’re at the first place I went to here that dances like my heritage suggests. Women and men tumble out of the place, laughter and sweat all over them as they emerge from the dark. Heavy music starts drowning out the creole rhythms in the air out here, and language starts turning from French to Spanish the second we walk through the door. It’s almost pitch black immediately, with nothing but a few lights and the sounds of laughter to lighten its mood.
I smile and push her in front of me, my hand on her hip to guide her as she starts bouncing to the beat. “You ready to move like you mean it for me?” I ask.
She tips her head back to me and kisses my jaw. “Do your worst.”
Alright then.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WREN
We spend the next morning continuing our tour around the city. After last night we’re both a little quiet and tired, but we enjoy coffee and a breakfast of the famous beignets, and nothing much else. My phone is off for a few hours, but I don’t care. It’s now becoming a habit, especially as he moaned and threatened every time I took a call yesterday. Everything in me screams that I shouldn’t be neglecting my job - my very new job - but with Dante, it’s different. He consumes me and overrides the logical and practical sense of my mind.
Dangerous.
I look at him as we wander through the French Quarter, listening while he talks me through some history of the place, much like our little graveyard tour yesterday. I can't help but become absorbed in his relatively easy-going nature, especially after how intense it got last night. He’s so possessive. One minute we can be talking, and the next, it’s full throttle, hot and sexy. And it’s exciting.
I know there are secrets and things left unsaid, but right now, here, I can easily forget them. He’s more like the boy I remember here - the boyIwould stand up for and help protect. He isn't that anymore, as proved with the guy on the dance floor. He looks at me like he’d stand in front of the world to protect me - like he'd burn it to the ground or watch it suffer for daring to mess with me.
It takes my breath away - he does.
“You seem to know New Orleans well?” I ask. He’s given a pretty full account.
“We’ve been doing business here for a while. It can be an interesting place.”
“Can you please tell me why it smells the way it does?” There’s been a briny smell in the air since we got here. The walk to the hotel from the restaurant was worse, and if this is what we have to put up with to see the sights, I’m not sure how much more I want to take.
“Just is. Piss, tourists, drink, mould, algae. Plus the sea level.”
“Nice.”
“It’s not so bad. I’ve smelt worse.”
Charming.
I don’t dwell and block out the unpleasant air to focus on the last few minutes of our trip. My fantasy and the real world have collided spectacularly on this trip, and I can’t help but enjoy the pull of the fantasy a lot more than real life. But then, isn’t that half of the appeal?
~
The flight back is quiet, and I catch up on work, emailing Bridezilla a few updates from the vendors she feels she needs to dictate to me. I mean, I don't know why she even hired me if this is what it’s like. But at least after our little run-in, she’s emailing rather than calling every two minutes.
Of course, an unexpected trip, and the fact that we stayed longer than first thought, means I’m behind and have a mountain of work to coordinate when I’m back in the office. But there’s a part of me - that darker rebel, maybe - that’s loved being away with Dante.
Just us.
He drives me back to mine but just drops me at the side of the road. He doesn’t come in or say a proper goodbye, and I think back to the morning, or even the last couple of days, where he seemed obsessed with the time we did spend together as I make my way in. There's that split personality again.
When I get inside, I dump my bags and decide to set up in my home office.
