Chapter 18
1137 Words
Leah
It lingered pleasantly in my throat, warming me from the inside. I liked it more than I expected. Dry, but not too dry. I took a second sip, letting the taste sit on my tongue for a moment. It wasn’t a brand I recognized—no label had been visible when he poured it—but I didn’t ask. Maybe I should’ve. I had no idea what the alcohol content was, and while my tolerance wasn’t terrible, it also wasn’t exactly something I could count on, especially on days when I hadn’t slept well.
Today definitely counted as one of those days. Still, one glass wouldn’t kill me.
I shifted slightly on the couch as Dante settled beside me and opened the article draft on his tablet, casually crossing one leg over the other. My eyes strayed to the way the dark fabric of his slacks stretched over his thigh before I forced myself to look away. His jaw was sharp, the shadows of the room catching on the angles of his face, making him look more like a painting than a man. I caught myself watching him more than I should have and looked away, pulling my laptop onto my lap.
He pointed out the first edit. Something about the phrasing of a headline. It was minor, almost irritatingly so, but I didn’t complain. The wine dulled my irritation, leaving behind only a heat in my chest and an unusual patience. I adjusted the sentence as he spoke, my fingers moving across the keyboard, my wine glass balanced carefully in one hand.
Next, he pointed to a line of text. “The second paragraph on page 3,” he said, tapping the screen with a long finger, “is still a bit soft. It’s better than the last version, but the tone’s off.”
I made the correction, and the next one, and the one after that. The changes he suggested were small, borderline obsessive, but I didn’t mind. Somehow, the process itself was oddly calming. Or maybe it was the wine. I could feel its warmth spreading down my neck and arms, making me slightly fuzzy but not quite tipsy. Just... loose.
I let myself get lost in the rhythm of his voice, my typing, the faint clink of glass as I sipped now and then.
His phone rang, and without looking away from the tablet screen, he fished it out of his pocket. When he saw the caller ID, a small faint smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Excuse me,” he said in a murmur, though he didn’t get up.
I nodded, pretending not to care, even as curiosity coiled low in my belly.
He answered. “Mm. Yeah?”
A woman’s voice filtered through the speaker, muffled but feminine, unmistakably familiar in the comfortable way she spoke to him. Although it was faint, I could make out her words “I made something with those local mushrooms you love. I thought I’d drop it off, just a quick stop—”
She continued for a few seconds more, and I discreetly paused my typing to hear her better, my fingers hovering above the keyboard.
Dante’s eyes flicked toward me briefly, watching as I filled up my glass halfway. “Now’s not really a good time.”
She laughed over the line. “Oh? You left the office early today. What could be keeping you?” There was a pause on her end. “Don’t tell me you’ve got someone over. A woman, maybe? Are you doing something I shouldn’t interrupt?”
I took a long sip, then inched closer to him. The woman’s voice dipped into a playful tone as she told Dante to not do anything she wouldn’t do, and I don't know what exactly it was about her words that made me suddenly very aware of how close we were sitting now.
Dante shook his head at her. “You’re insufferable. I’ll come by later to pick up the food. Thanks.”
He ended the call without saying goodbye and tucked the phone back into his pocket. I caught his gaze as he turned to me, and knew he’d noticed I was closer than I’d been before his call.
I offered a half-shrug and scooted a few inches closer, lifting my laptop slightly. “I couldn’t hear you properly. Let’s keep going.”
He didn’t believe me, I could tell. His lips quirked, but he played along.
We dove back into the article, though the air between us was more…charged. I could feel the warmth of his body now, right beside mine, and feel the tension winding tighter under his suit. I quickly made the edits he dictated, my fingers moving on autopilot while my focus zeroed in on him.
Eventually, I found myself close enough to feel the brush of his sleeve against mine whenever he shifted. He didn’t move away. After a final round of corrections, Dante sat back and tapped the screen. “It’s fine now. You can send it through.”
I nodded, saving the file and renaming it so I wouldn’t mix it up with the old one. “I can revise again if you want,” I said, placing my laptop to the side. “Just say the word.”
He didn’t respond immediately. When I glanced up, I found him looking at me thoughtfully. Then he asked, his voice low, “You’ve been here a while. Won’t your boyfriend mind?”
I gave him a lazy smile, lifting my wineglass for a final sip. Would it be weird if I asked for a third one? “What boyfriend?”
Dante plucked the now empty wine glass from my hand, and set it down. “The one you were waiting in the rain for that night.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling the heat from the alcohol spread through me in a slow wave of confidence. “I broke up with Ethan the night I met you.” I leaned in, narrowing the space between us, watching his reaction as I asked, softly, “Can I pursue you?”
He turned toward me slightly, one arm resting along the back of the couch. There was something dangerous in the curve of his mouth, and it seemed to grow amused when I forced my gaze from his lips to his eyes.
“If I say no,” he said, “will you back off?”
I grinned, not even trying to hide it. “You and I both know the answer to that.”
Dante c****d his head. “Enlighten me.”
“I won’t,” I said simply, inching even closer, so close I could press my lips to his if I dared. “You’re going to be mine.”
- Writer
