Breakfast on Tuesday

37. Girlfriend

Dante took me to his new posh house that was within walking distance from the beach in a place called Badalona. It took us about twenty minutes to drive there.

An older lady whose name was Antonia greeted us at the door. Dante hung up his coat in the open closet and she took mine.

"The kitchen is this way, Carla," she said.

Before I followed her, I looked at Dante and he nodded. "I'll be right there, baby. Go ahead," he said.

Why did my heart flutter every time he called me baby?

Because you like it, duh.

As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, the sweet aroma of cinnamon rolls and other delicious pastries caused my mouth to water.

Antonia walked me through the kitchen with its open floor plan until we reached the perfectly set dining table.

She left and I took a moment to appreciate my surroundings. This kitchen was made for a chef, that was certain. Shiny pans and utensils dangled on black fixtures overhead and by the wall facing the ocean, two giant ovens that could easily hold four cakes each were humming away as they baked whatever was placed inside of them.

Dante walked into the dining area just as I took my phone out and was about to make a call. He had taken the suit jacket off and had opened the top few buttons on his white dress shirt, revealing the silver wolf pendant on the chain around his neck.

"Who are you calling?" he asked, eying me suspiciously.

"Not that it's any of your business but I was about to call Bruce and let him know that I'm okay."

"No need. He knows where you are."

"And I'm supposed to take your word for it?"

He strode around the table and stopped an inch away from my face. "Do you trust Bruce more than you trust me?"

"He was there for me these past weeks. I can't say the same for you."

Dante's eyes darkened. "You pain me, Carla. I've been working diligently in the background for you. I put Bruce in your life to keep you safe. Nothing more."

"What are you talking about? There is no 'more'."

He touched the side of my face with the back of his fingers. "Good, then you can delete his number. He's no longer your bodyguard."

Was he serious right now? I couldn't tell.

"Bruce is a friend. I won't delete his number because you're jealous."

"You don't even know what you do to me, cariño. I'm losing my mind here," he said softly. "I'm sorry but I want you to be mine so fucking bad that I can't stand the thought of you wanting somebody else."

"There is no one else," I said to reassure him. "I haven't wanted anyone the way I want you."

I got scared as soon as the last set of words left my mouth because they left me feeling exposed.

I didn't know anyone like Dante. No one else brave enough to challenge me with the bluntness of their words. No one whose sexual energy was so strong it tainted my emotions and filled my mind with lust. No one as calculating and skilled at using a gun that they killed people for a living.

But since he was being open and honest, I figured I should be too. It was pointless trying to deny the way I felt for him.

I gazed up at his face and he seemed pleased with my answer.

Turning away, he pulled out a chair for me at the table. "I hope it's not too early to drink mimosa." He lifted a jar filled with orange liquid and poured some into two tall glasses nearby.