The taste of rebellion
706 Words
The morning after the party felt like a hangover, even though I hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the way Dante had looked through me—like I was a ghost, a "brat" who was simply in the way of his adult fun.
I spent the morning in the penthouse gym, punishing the treadmill. If I couldn't get him out of my head, I’d sweat him out of my system.
"You’re going to pass out if you keep that pace up, Elena" Leo’s voice echoed in the room.
I slowed the machine down, panting. "I'm fine, Leo. Just restless."
"Restless? Or looking for trouble?" A second voice joined in. My heart stopped.
Dante walked into the gym, looking infuriatingly handsome in grey sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt that showed off the heavy muscles of his chest. He was carrying two protein shakes. He handed one to Leo, completely ignoring me as if I were part of the gym equipment.
"She's fine, Leo," Dante said, his voice flat and bored. "She’s just nineteen. They all have too much energy at that age."
"I'm standing right here, Dante," I snapped, stepping off the treadmill. I was flushed, my hair messy, and my gym top was damp with sweat.
Dante finally looked at me. It was a brief, icy flicker of a gaze. "I noticed. Go take a shower, Elena. You’re making the floor slippery."
I felt the sting of tears again. I didn't wait for a reply. I grabbed my towel and bolted for my room. I hated him. I hated the way he treated me like a nuisance.
Dante’s Perspective (The Secret Regret)
As soon as the door slammed behind Elena, I dropped the protein shake. My hand was shaking so violently that the plastic bottle rattled against the floor.
"You okay, man?" Leo asked, frowning.
"Fine," I lied, my voice sounding like I’d swallowed glass. "Just didn't sleep well."
The truth was, I hadn't slept at all. I had spent the night imagining her in that emerald dress, the way the silk had draped over the curves she didn't realize she had. I had spent the night wanting to kill every man in that room who had dared to look at her.
In my mind, I saw her flushed face and sweaty skin from the gym. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to follow her into that shower, to pin her against the tile and show her exactly how much of a "brat" I thought she was. My staggering length was already straining against my sweats, a heavy, pulsing ache that never truly went away when she was near.
I wanted to ruin her. I wanted to be the first and only man to ever taste her. But she is my best friend sister, and she was "pure."
"I'm heading out," I told Leo, not waiting for an answer.
I walked to my car, my jaw clenched so tight it ached. I got inside and slammed my fist against the steering wheel. The "Playboy" mask was suffocating me. I had to go find some nameless girl to distract me, to try and bury the unyielding thickness of my desire into someone who wasn't her.
But I knew it wouldn't work.
Elena’s Perspective
Two hours later, I was dressed and ready to leave. If Dante wanted to treat me like a child, I was going to give him a reason to worry. I had messaged Jake, the guy from my lit class who drove a Ducati and had "trouble" written all over him.
When I walked out of the penthouse lobby, Jake was waiting.
"Ready to go, beautiful?" he asked, handing me a helmet.
"Ready," I said, climbing onto the back of the bike.
As we sped away, I didn't see the black SUV pulled up at the curb. I didn't see Dante sitting inside, his knuckles white as he watched me cling to Jake’s waist. I didn't see the predatory look in his eyes as he shifted the car into gear to follow us.
He didn't want me, but he wouldn't let anyone else have me either. The "Playboy" was about to become a stalker.
- Writer
