Page 51 of The Virgin Clause (Caprice Langden)

Chapter Twenty-One

- Noemi -

IDIDN’T KNOW WHATto expect from Dante. I tried hard to hold to his decree of “no expectations” but being driven blindfolded to an airport was not something I had anticipated. I was more than a little overwhelmed. My heart hammered the whole drive and Dante was no help. He was so quiet. Normally, I am, too, but he didn’t seem to realize that what I needed to not feel so horribly awkward as I sat in a car, surrounded by complete darkness, was to know that he was there.

I wouldn’t have even known he was the one driving if it hadn’t been for the smell of that citrusy cologne he wore and the natural body heat that radiated from his side of the car.

When he first brought out the silk scarf, I thought he was crazy, but the more he dangled it in front of me, the more I watched it move fluidly through his fingers, the more I wanted it.

As I sat in the car, unable to see anything except the changing light patterns through the dark material, all my other senses came alive. I breathed deeply of Dante’s scent, letting it calm me. I didn’t recognize the Italian crooner whose silky voice filled my ears, but his baritone became my only vocal companion. I ran my hands over the smooth leather of the car seat to ground me. I assumed we were in Dante’s Lincoln; the seat position, the leather – it felt the same as when Dante had given me a ride home from the party. It felt... familiar. Familiar felt good. Ineeded“familiar” because Dante was his usual unsocial self. His demeanor shouldn’t have bothered me. It was another familiarity. I had no reason to expect differently. But for some reason, I thought the man I was going to have sex with for the first time in my life would at least talk to me for a while before hand.

No expectations. How long would it take for me to get that through my head?

I didn’t mean to sigh so deeply, but my guard was down after I began to relax into my solitude.

“Not much longer,” Dante offered, finally speaking to me.

Thank God! I don’t know if it was from being cut off from my vision or what, but the drive seemed to take forever! I shifted in my seat just as my stomach rumbled.

Dante cursed under his breath. “Have you eaten today?”

I wanted to say yes.

“And don’t lie to me!” he barked.

But he’d know I was lying. “A little this morning.” I shrugged. “You didn’t tell me we were leaving tonight, so no, I never ate dinner.”

He didn’t respond. I was learning not to expect him to. I sat back in my chair, closed my eyes behind the blindfold, and let the crooner and the car noise lull me into relaxation.

I awoke to the rush of cold air against my face as the car door opened.

“Stand up... slowly.” Dante ordered.

I did as he said, carefully sliding my legs over the side of the seat to come to a standing position. My anxiety returned because I had no idea where we were or what was coming next.

When my feet flew out from underneath me and Dante cradled me against his chest, I grabbed him around the neck, afraid of being dropped or falling. My heart pounded from the disorientation of not being able to see and not having my feet on the ground.

“Relax,” Dante purred in my ear, his earlier waspish behavior apparently having subsided. “And this will be a lot easier on both of us if you don’t choke me.”

I giggled into his neck at his plaintive tone. I was amused by his words until I felt the incline of what was a staircase of some sort. Gravity pushed me back against Dante’s chest and I held on tighter. I may have squeaked again.

The rumble in his chest wasn’t quite a laugh, but it was closer to one than the snorts from our one-sided phone sex last night.

Dante continued to hold me until we reached the top of wherever the stairs led us. He set me on my feet but kept both arms around my waist.

“Is everything ready?” he asked someone.

A female voice with a distinct southern drawl answered him. “Yes, sir. Captain Smith is ready to depart when you are. And Mr. Delacroix sends his regards and wishes for safe travels.”

“Thank you. When we get to altitude, we’d like a meal. And some champagne.”

“Of course, Mr. Calegari. My name is Sylvia, your cabin stewardess. My partner’s name is Lyle. He’ll be out shortly. If the two of you would take your seats, I’ll let the Captain know we’re ready to fly.”

“What about my bags?” I piped up. If stewardess Sylvia thought it odd that she was conversing with a blindfolded woman, she didn’t let on.

“They’re being loaded as we speak,” she assured me.

“Thanks, again, Sylvia,” Dante grunted. Apparently, his social behavior had run its course.

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