Chapter 2
737 Words
Steam blurred the bathroom mirror. It blurred my senses too.
Dante's possessiveness swept over me like a storm and left me no room to breathe. His kisses bit into the side of my neck. His hand tightened in my hair and pulled me toward him as if he meant to tear me apart.
I trembled beneath his rough hunger. My fingers found his back and brushed the coarse ridges of his old scars.
Just as my consciousness began to blur, another memory surfaced in my mind.
On the evening of our first wedding anniversary, I had done the boldest thing of my life. I seduced him first.
It was the first time I had ever taken the initiative.
The week before, I had canceled the sample observations at the laboratory. Then I secretly contacted Chef Marco Bellini at the Moretti estate and learned how to make one of Dante's favorite family recipes.
I still remembered being so nervous that I nearly cut my finger while chopping onions. I remembered adjusting the candleholders again and again in the dining room. I remembered scattering the last handful of rose petals into the bathtub, my palms slick with sweat.
When the lock clicked, my nerves almost gave out.
Dante stood in the entryway. He glanced at the candlelit room and the carefully set table, then went still for three full seconds.
For those three seconds, I thought I had ruined everything.
Then he walked toward me, caught my chin, and tipped my face up. Surprise and tenderness flashed through his eyes, only to turn at once into a fierce desire that had finally broken free. He looked like a beast spotting prey.
And I was clearly the prey.
"Do you know what you're doing?" he asked, studying me.
"I do. I just want to make you happy." I lifted my flushed face, and my voice trembled despite my best effort to control it.
"You want to make me happy?" His thumb brushed lightly over my lower lip. The desire in his eyes was impossible to hide. "Sera, once I start, I won't stop. Can you really handle what happens when I stop holding back?"
I didn't answer. I simply rose onto my toes and kissed him first.
That night, he held back less than he ever had before.
Rose petals scattered across the floor as we tangled together. Water spilled over the edge of the bathtub. I heard my own broken gasps, and my strength slowly drained away.
My last memory was of Dante lifting me out of the water. I leaned against his shoulder until my consciousness seemed to drain away, then collapsed weakly against him.
The next day, Dr. Alan Mercer, the Moretti family doctor, said expressionlessly that I was suffering from exhaustion.
I caught a fleeting trace of regret in Dante's eyes.
After that, I never dared to take the initiative again.
The love he wanted came like a storm. It swept through everything and left nothing standing.
What I had learned since childhood was restraint. I knew how to maintain dignity in cold composure. I knew how to keep my emotions sealed inside specimen jars. I knew how to observe the world through glass, the same way I observed the cell walls of rare plants in my laboratory. Everything was clear, orderly, and safe.
I had once thought that was enough.
One hour later, Dante carried me from the bathroom back to the bed. My whole body felt as if it had come apart at the seams, and I couldn't even lift my fingertips.
"Good night," I murmured with my eyes closed. My voice was so hoarse that it barely sounded like mine.
He paused. His rough fingertips brushed my cheek, and his knuckles felt cool.
I was too exhausted to see what flashed through his eyes in that instant. It looked like tenderness, but also like loss he was struggling to hold in.
For him, that had probably been only a warm-up.
For me, I was already completely spent.
His throat bobbed. Then he said in a low voice, "All right. Go to sleep first."
Late that night, rain hammered against the glass. He watched me for a long time in the dark. I thought it was lingering desire.
Only later did I learn that it was goodbye.
The next morning, there was only a note beside my pillow.
Dante: Sera, let's get divorced.
- Writer
