Five
WHEN THE COLD LIGHT OF day greeted me the morning after, I almost regretted what I’d done the night before. Almost. I’d offered myself like a brazen slut but how else was I going to get anything done around here? I’d waited long enough.
No regrets aside, I woke groggy and in pain. I remembered calling out in agony a few times in the night but Dante was always there to hush me before going back to his own bed.
“Dante?” I groaned, again sounding like I was in pain.
I was.
“I’m here, Ciara.”
I shifted and followed his voice to the chaise longue opposite the bed where he had obviously been sat watching me sleep. Gradually my vision cleared and he took my breath away, his slim, lithe form sharp as steel in a pristine charcoal suit.
“Where’d the suit come from?”
“Sexton delivered it
