Page 50 of Depraved
He’s not seeking my answer. Dante’s speaking aloud, like an affirmation, a validation for whatever he’s planning to do next.
I could correct him. Tell him it’s not true, but where he is, in this headspace, it’s no good. Better for him to hate me because it’s clear that Dante protecting me has become intricately woven into how much we like each other.
But me and him, we’re for another lifetime.
And I can’t trust him with the truth—tonight was evidence of that. So, I do what I do best and push back.
“Wedon’t have anything to do with all this shit. Andwedon’t even exist. We fucked. That’s it,” I spit angrily.
Dante’s growl weaves around his words. “I’m gonna make you eat those words off a plate from where you crawl to lick me clean of the person who came before you.”
There’s hating me, and then there’sthis.
Rage burns my skin. He’s a bastard.
I spin and look at Matteo, furious. I want to scream. Tear down the wall. But instead, I drop the phone from my ear and walk back the few steps to where Matteo stands. I can hear my name being yelled through the phone, but I hand it back, leveling him with a glare.
“Tell him that when he’s ready to act like a sane person and be fucking polite, I might speak to him. But not a goddamn minute before.” My voice raises even louder at the end as my temper spikes higher.
Matteo hands the phone back to me and shakes his head, but I know Dante heard me loud and clear.
“Sarah. You know who he is…stop stoking the fire and answer him.”
“Fuck you! I won’t ever be spoken to that way. And if he wants to kill me for it, then he can get the fuck in line.”
Matteo puts the phone back to his ear and winces as he hears Dante yelling.
“Sorry, boss, but she won’t speak to…” He nods his head. “Yeah. I think so.” More nodding. “I can…I could try and make her…”
My eyebrows raise, but whatever Dante’s saying cuts him off, and Matteo seems uncomfortable as he listens. His eyes dart to me, and I swear he looks apologetic. Matteo lowers the phone, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and meets my eyes.
“Well?” I ask expectantly, waiting for an answer.
Matteo holds his hand over the phone and squares his shoulders.
“He says you have two choices. Take the phone back and answer, or take your spot on the living room floor, head bowed, hands on your thighs. Because either way, he’ll get the answers he wants. It’s your choice whether or not you enjoy the process.”
My hand strikes out across Matteo’s unsuspecting face, his cheek reddening immediately. Leaning in close, I sneer, “That’s for your boss, since we’re passing messages.”
Checking the time again, I crane my neck to the kitchen clock from where I’m sitting on the couch. Eleven o’clock.
I pour myself another glass of chardonnay, hoping he walks through the door this time.
It’s been an entire day.
We collided, teeth bared and armor on, Sunday night, but he never walked through the elevator doors. Matteo stayed with me most of the night, although he’s not speaking to me after I slapped him, and then it was a steady stream of the guys ever since. But nobody will tell me anything. They’re barely speaking to me.
If I thought my situation was bad before, now I know it can be worse.
Monday’s about to come and go, and still no Dante.
I wish I felt nothing, that I didn’t care, but I do. My nerves are raw and frayed. I’ve picked up the phone to call Dominic or Luca, but I haven’t. Too many questions, too many explanations I won’t give to do that.
My leg bounces with my unease as I stare at Antonio, who’s sitting no more than ten feet from me. I know he knows what’s going on, but he’s the most standoffish. I think he’s still pissed about the scissors and Vincenzo. In my defense, I had no idea what was going to happen to me…it was survival of the fittest.
“Is he okay?” I breathe out, extinguishing the silence.
Antonio folds down the top of his paper and stares at me for a moment. “He’s alive.”
