Dante's Fire(11)

"It leaves us right here. Together." He paused. "To figure it out."

Those green-gold eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say something but  the waiter interrupted. After ordering the tartufo and cappuccino, he  sat back. The moment had passed.

"Your turn. How did you come about working in the mailroom?"

He enjoyed her directness. She wasn't afraid to mention the dead end job  or question his intentions. Dante wondered how he could answer her with  the same honesty. He picked his words carefully. "When my parents died,  I inherited some money. Enough so I wouldn't have to worry about making  enough. But not enough where I didn't have to work. I enjoy being  around people on a regular basis and helping out. Inferno gave me the  job, and I figured I'd take it from there. So far, I haven't wanted to  leave."

Her gaze probed and searched for the words beneath his words. "Are you afraid to go after what you really want?"

Yes. Because what he really wanted was her.

In that moment, he almost wished he were Bruce Wayne, a millionaire with  ambition, who had the option of courting the woman he loved. Hell, he'd  even take being a reporter at this point. Instead, his disguise was a  working stiff lusting after the big corporate executive.

"No," he said. The waiter placed the dessert and coffee on the table and  disappeared. "I wish I could tell you I have a secret dream, or that I  need more. But I don't." His gaze burned into hers. "This is who I am. I  like my job, I like my friends, and I like my life. So far, for me  that's been enough."

Dante waited. He knew his admission gave her the ammunition needed to  politely end the date and walk away. How the hell could a businesswoman  climbing the ladder of success settle for a mailroom courier? He'd never  be able to tell her he owned Inferno. Never be able to confess he'd  hired her, would promote her, and held the strings to the entire  company. So, he waited for relief to flood through him for the end of  this game that twisted him in knots and gave him something to hope for.  To dream for.         

     



 

But it couldn't be real.

Selina stirred the rock candy into her coffee, round and round. She  studied the motions as if it held all the answers. Looked up. "I only  have one question left."

His world shattered piece by piece around him. "What's that?"

"Do you think Metallica is a better band or the original Van Halen?"

Daniel's heart stopped. Then sped up as joy crashed through his body. "Definitely Metallica."

"I disagree."

Dante sipped his cappuccino and pushed the dessert toward her. "Tell me why."







She stepped out of the cab in front of her apartment and began to shake.  Selina twisted her hands around the strap of her purse and prayed he  wouldn't notice. The sight of the familiar street bathed in darkness  stabbed her like needles as she fought the memories. God, she hated  this, hated every part of this damn fear that slithered like a  rattlesnake and bit hard and deep when she was unprepared.

But she couldn't invite Daniel in. She wasn't ready.

He stepped behind her and his presence calmed her jagged nerves. One  warm hand rested on her upper arm as he stopped at the bottom of the  stairs. "Do you want me to walk you up?"

She glanced at the cab. He'd already gone out of his way to ride with  her uptown just to see her to the door. Now the cabbie waited  impatiently for them to finish their goodbye and get his meter running  again. Selina tilted her chin with determination. She refused to be  afraid of her own apartment. Besides, the doorman waited there  discreetly. Nothing would happen. "No, I'm fine. Thank you for a lovely  evening."

He smiled down at her, obviously amused by her formality. "You're  welcome." Dark eyes drilled into hers. "I want to see you again."

Sensual energy swirled around her and pulled tight. Her voice came out in a rough whisper. "Yes."

Slowly, he reached out and ran his fingers down her hair. Traced the line of her jaw. Then lowered his head.

His lips touched hers, feather light. Warm, soft lips molded to hers.  The clean male scent of him swam around her and she longed for more. She  opened her lips; her feet steady on the ground, her heart pounding,  excitement and anticipation tingling her nerve endings. And--

Fabric tearing; fingers hurting; pain; violation; fear.

The image attacked without warning. Selina stumbled back a step, her  arms automatically coming up to ward him off. Daniel kept still, giving  her the space she needed, his face calm and impassive as if he was used  to women freaking out after a polite goodnight kiss. He didn't even know  about the truth of the attack, believing she was only mugged and not  assaulted.

"I'm-I'm sorry," she tore out. "I can't--"

"Stop. Selina, look at me." She forced herself to lift her head,  humiliated beyond belief. Dark eyes stared back into hers with a gleam  of patience and desire he didn't try to hide. As if he realized the  truth behind the story she told everyone, understanding flickered over  his face. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere. Go upstairs. I'll wait  right here until I see your light go on."

She nodded. "Thank you."

He smiled and motioned her in. Selina climbed the steps, unlocked the  door, and made her way up the staircase. When she was safely in her  apartment, she turned on all the lights and looked out the window. He  stood by the taxicab, staring up at the lace curtains, until he saw her  wave.

He waved back, climbed in the cab, and left.

With methodical movements, Selina went through her bedtime ritual.  Changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth, turned on the television,  and propped up on her pillows to watch late night entertainment.

The screen swam before her as the tears burned and released. She sobbed  with frustration at her inability to enjoy a kiss or a touch from a man.  Would she ever be the same again? She turned out all the lights,  flicked off the TV, and buried herself under the blankets.

Time ticked by with a painful slowness. Sleep eluded.

Now she knew why she'd kept Daniel at a respectable distance for so  long. Not because he worked in the mailroom. Not because they ran in  different social circles. Evidently, her heart had always known the  moment she spent alone time with him, it would reinforce the fact he was  special. He made her laugh. He made her feel good about herself. He  made her feel safe.

And he was hot. All through dinner, she ached to touch him. To feel  those carved lips slipping over hers. She already knew he'd be a  patient, thorough lover. Those dark eyes held a sensual promise of the  things he'd do to her when they were finally alone in a bedroom. She  ached for more, but a simple kiss had her running for shelter. He didn't  seem bothered, but Selina had to tell him what happened. He never  pressed for more details regarding the mugging. If she wanted to  continue this relationship, she needed to tell him the truth.         

     



 

Despair leaked through her. Tears burned her lids, and a raw, aching  emptiness reared up and swallowed her whole. She ached for safety,  warmth, and tenderness...

"I'm here."





Chapter Seven



THE deep, gravelly voice cut through the darkness. Selina flung back the covers and turned.

Dante sat beside her bed. Dressed in black, with the fabric mask  covering his face, he seemed like a superhero-gone bad. But he was hers.  A deep longing rose inside of her for more of this man. More knowledge,  more connection, more of...everything.

"Dante?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"How do you get in my apartment?"

He laughed, and the memories of Daniel's laugh beckoned. She pushed the  guilt aside. Dante was a mythic figure of the night. He didn't belong in  the day, or to reality. She'd stopped searching for logical answers.  Selina just knew she needed him.

"Magic. Why are you crying?"

She swiped her cheeks. "I feel like an idiot. I can't stand for anyone to touch me. I don't think I'll ever get past this."

Dante reached over, took her hand, and rubbed her cold flesh between his  warm fingers. She relaxed and surrendered to his presence. "You're  letting me touch you right now," he said.

Her face flushed. "That's different. It's a friendly touch." Selina tried not to fidget. "I meant sexually."

"Date tonight?"

"None of your business."

He laughed again. Then tipped her chin up. "You've been violated. This  is a normal process and it takes time. It takes trust. But I can help  you, if you'll let me."

"How?"

I can show you how to trust a man's touch again. I won't do anything  you're uncomfortable with. But you need to learn to let go, to  surrender. Do you trust me?"

Selina nodded. "Yes." This was the man who had saved her, helped her  night after night, and held her hand while she cried. Yes, she trusted  him on a basic level she'd never experienced before.

"Very well." He stood up, and with one smooth motion, stripped off his t-shirt.