Dinner on Friday

21. Carla

CROSSING LINES

The sharp knock on the bedroom door startled me and I looked up. I rolled over to Dante's side of the bed just in case the person behind the door wasn't friendly, but then I remembered that Dante kept a loaded gun in the bedside drawer. But maybe I didn't need it to be loaded, I just needed the person behind the door to believe it was.

"Carla?" I heard Sergio call after a long, tense moment.

"Yeah?"

"Can I come in?"

"Um, sure." I pulled the sheet up around me to hide the revealing silhouette of my breasts through the sheer top I was wearing.

The door creaked open and Sergio entered the room. "You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Schipper asked me to check on you. Your husband is worried. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Well, I was until you told me about Dante being worried. What happened?"

"I'm not sure." He walked further into the room. "I'm going to check if the windows are locked, okay?"

I nodded and then waited for him to check the locks on all the windows. Once he was satisfied, he moved to stand in front of the bed. His gaze traveled over my body as I sat there, the sheet almost hugging my neck. A mixture of apprehension and desire flickered in his eyes, but any hint of desire I thought I saw vanished when we heard footsteps in the hallway.

Seconds later, the door swung open and Dante barged in. His eyes locked on Sergio and I watched his features contort with suspicion and then anger.

"What the fuck?!" Dante's voice thundered as he pulled up on Sergio, who stood frozen in front of the bed. "I warned you to stay away from my wife, and yet here you are in our bedroom."

"I was checking to see–"

Dante's arm swung with precision and I watched horrified when his fist connected with Sergio's jaw, cutting off his speech. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed in the room as Dante landed several more punches on Sergio's unsuspecting face.

My mind raced, trying to process what was happening. Somehow, in the chaos, I found my voice, my screams blending with the cacophony of the room. "Stop! Dante, stop!" I pleaded, my words drowned out by the intensity of the scene unfolding before me.

Finally, Dante's anger seemed to subside, and he staggered backward, his breathing heavy. The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by our labored breaths.

Sergio, his face bruised and bloodied, slowly moved away from Dante and toward the door, his eyes filled with pain and disbelief. "Dante... I... I didn't..." His voice quivered, his words trailing off.

Dante's chest heaved as he struggled to regain control of his emotions. "Didn't what? Didn't just try to fuck my wife?"

"Dante," I said. "Please... let him explain."

"There's no need. He's fired."

The distress on Sergio's face was like a tautly pulled wire, ready to snap under the weight of his emotions. "Sir, listen to me. I take my job very seriously and I would never cross any boundaries with a client. Schipper asked me to check on Carla. I came and made sure that all the windows were locked and was on my way out when you walked in."

Dante's fists unclenched and his hazel eyes burned cold. "Get the fuck out of here, man. I will talk to Schipper in the morning before deciding what to do with you. From now on, you're no longer Carla's bodyguard."