Dante's Fire(7)

The story fascinated her. His eyes seemed far away, stuck in the distant  past, no longer with her. She remained silent, waiting for the end.

"A few months later, he got cancer. We lost him quickly. And when I said  goodbye for the last time, in a way I couldn't even be sad. I knew I'd  see him again one day-in another time, another place. But there were two  reasons he came into my life, and I never doubted them."

"What reasons?" she whispered.

"To save me from the night of the burglary and to teach me about love.  Real love. The kind that's real and true, with no thought to ego or  benefits or safety. Superpup really did live up to his name, and I was  different after that."

Her eyes began to close, weariness seeping into every bone in her body.  For a little while, the image of what Superpup must've looked like  drifted past her vision, away from the bad stuff.

"Sleep, sweetheart."

His last words echoed in her mind before darkness pulled her under.





Chapter Four



ON Monday, Selina stared at her computer screen and wondered for the hundredth time if she should go home.

Every step she took throbbed with pain. Her face looked like a Halloween  costume gone wrong: yellow bruises, puffy lips, and a blood-crusted  brow. Make-up made it look worse, and she'd spent over an hour trying  desperately to mask the truth of Friday night. Finally, she'd given up.

The looks were horrible, but the questions were the worst. She briefly  told everyone about the mugging. That she was indeed just fine, even  though the bruises were still fresh. When her team called her Saturday  morning, all at the office except for her, she'd texted back, citing the  flu. Showing up on Monday with a beaten up face screamed that she was a  big fat liar. Ed turned ashen and felt responsible for not walking her  home, but she made sure to laugh it off, lying that the police had  already arrested them and it hadn't been that big of a deal. Much  scarier than it looked.

Another lie.

The intercom buzzed. Selina dragged in a breath and answered. "Yes?"

"It's Patricia's birthday," a laughing voice called out. "We're having cake. Get out here!"

"Be right there."

She stood up from the chair, dragging her sweaty palms down her smart  Jones suit. Why was she so nervous? They had cake at least once a week,  since it was office tradition and they employed hundreds of people. She  tilted her chin up with determination and walked into the conference  room.

"There she is!" Tom and Ed motioned her over, and her assistant began  shouting about forty being the new thirty. A large sheet cake sat on the  table, with shots of champagne in plastic glasses being passed around.  Black balloons were tied to the chairs, and a withering, dried, black  rose made up a centerpiece.

Selina held up her hand in acknowledgment, forcing a smile at the cheers  and claps attacking her ears. Usually she adored participating in  celebrations with her co-workers and took the role of cake cutter. Sweat  pricked her brow. What the hell was wrong with her? Her throat locked  at the idea of squeezing in between the mass of bodies to get to the  cake. Why was she acting ridiculous?

"We got cooties, Rogers?" Tom shouted out. Laughter broke out.

Patricia, the birthday honoree, raised her glass in the air. Short, dark  curls flopped about her face in artful fashion. "She wants a break from  cutting! Screw you, Tom! Next time you get me a black rose let's see if  your lunch order ever gets delivered correctly."

Whistles rang out. Her heart pounded so hard she wondered if everyone  could hear it. The noise continued as they cut the cake, teased each  other, and drank the bubbly liquid. Her back pressed against the wall,  and suddenly a hard, muscled arm dragged across her chest, brushing her  breasts.

Selina froze. Terror chopped through her. A silent scream rose to her  pursed lips and then she was pushing the intruder away, backing away to  safety. Drew Coleman, one of the top salesmen in the unit, raised a brow  and lifted both hands in the air.         

     



 

"Sorry, Selina. Just trying to get some cake."

She tried to laugh it off and make a joking remark. The words got stuck,  and feeling on the verge of a panic attack, she ducked her head and  raced out of the conference room.

The moment she shut the door behind her, her legs gave out. Selina sank  into the matching leather armchair, much smaller than hers, and buried  her face in her hands.

What was happening to her? She wanted normalcy. She wanted to forget.  But she was so damn jumpy. Even at lunch, she'd tried to venture out to  the deli with her team, but the thought of walking down the street close  by the incident twisted her stomach. When she headed past the main  lobby, the noise level jolted her. Dialogue, keys tapping, laughter,  phones ringing. The only place she felt safe was in her office, but the  isolation caused a different fear.

The weekend had been a blur. With bright sunlight streaming through the  windows, she'd felt a bit stronger and capable. Dante vanished with the  night, until she wondered if she'd made him up with her subconscious in  order to get through a traumatic experience. So, Selina pushed him out  of her mind and made herself go through the rituals of a Saturday. She  decided to lay low and heal from the night's traumatic events.

Wash. Dress. Eat breakfast. She'd tried cleaning her apartment but her  muscles ached. Instead, she'd worked most of the day on her laptop,  sipping tea, television blaring for company. She buried Friday night's  event to the recesses of her mind, closed the door and locked it tight.

Until night fell.

Still exhausted, she tried desperately to sleep. But the nightmares came.

"Shut up, bitch." Slapped, pushed down to the cold ground. Hands ripping  away her sweater, pulling at her jeans. Her naked breasts exposed for  their laughter and groping fingers.

She screamed and sobbed uncontrollably at the raw images behind her lids.

"I'm here." Dante's voice reached into the nightmare, grabbed her tight,  and brought her to safety. This time, she knew he was no apparition. He  was real; he was her priceless gift to keep away the demons. At least  for a while.

He stood guard over her both Saturday and Sunday night. Kept the  nightmares at bay. Held her hand, brought her water, and let her talk  when she wanted. His calm strength flowed through her as if a blood  transfusion, allowing her some peace.

It made no sense, yet she didn't care. A masked stranger was now the  only person she clung to. A million questions swirled through her mind,  but she was too tired and battered to voice them. Accepting his comfort  was the only thing that kept her sane.

Selina shook off the memory of her weekend and tried to re-focus. Time  to get back to work. She needed to be ready for Forrester on Thursday,  and still had a dozen phone calls to make.

A knock sounded on the door.

She jumped out of her seat, and then turned red at her obvious  skittishness. Daniel hovered by the door with a banded pile of mail.  "Hey boss, can I come in?"

She'd been avoiding people all day, but found herself nodding at his question. "Sure, Dan. Want a cup of coffee?"

"Sounds great, as long as you have a few minutes."

"I need a coffee break." She watched him walk to the farthest table  where she kept her one-cup coffee maker fully stocked and consistently  brewing. Her gaze took in his Judas Priest t-shirt, worn jeans, and  Sketchers sneakers. The light streamed over his loose dark hair and  illuminated the jagged scar, but she only saw the deep pull of his eyes,  the strong slope of his jaw covered with a bit of stubble, and his  graceful motions as he took the chair opposite hers.

"Heard about the mugging." He looked her over. His face gentled. "I've  been worried about you but didn't want to push. How are you holding up?

Selina opened her mouth to give her usual statement. Instead, the truth  tumbled out. "Not great. I got spooked, and now it's pissing me off. I'm  jumping at things like a baby."

He stared at her thoughtfully. "Do you think you're Wonder Woman or  something? You need to give yourself a break. I can't believe you came  into the office today."

"I'd rather work." She took a sip of her own coffee. "Anyway, it's over now. I need to move on."

"Sounds like a plan. But your mind may have a different agenda."

"I hate weakness," she muttered.

"You don't have a weak bone in your body." His voice dropped and caused  shivers to run down her spine. Odd. For a quick moment, he sounded so  familiar. Suddenly, her casual friend across the table struck her as a  powerful man. His dark intensity ruffled her nerve endings. Her belly  dipped, and confusion marred her brow as she stared at him. Instead of  his usual retreat, his gaze locked with hers. Those piercing eyes, so  like Dante's, pinned her to the ground. Energy sizzled between them.  This time, Dan challenged her right back. And not as a friend.