Page 32 of Chaos
Michael walks back over to us, tucking his phone into his coat pocket. He leans over, whispers something in Dante’s ear that I can’t hear. Even if I could, it’s probably in Italian, so I wouldn’t understand. Dante sharply nods his head.
Michael walks to the back of the restaurant, through a set of doors. He emerges a few minutes later with a thick blue tarp and places it over the body. I turn my head, not wanting to see any more of what he plans on doing.
A few moments later, the front door of the restaurant opens, and five men wearing hazmat suits walk in. They don’t look at Michael or Dante, they just walk over to the tarped-covered body.
I watch in fascination as they efficiently wrap the body up, take it out through the back, and clean the blood off the floor. They complete their task in less than twenty minutes and leave. Never speaking once to anyone.How many times have they done that?
The door closes behind them, ushering in a deafening silence in the room. Dante hasn’t let go of me since we sat down, and I can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of my head. Taking a deep breath, I look over at him. In the depth of his dark amber eyes, I can see all the questions that are screaming in his head.
I glanced over at Michael, still standing a few feet away from us. Dante says something to him, I’m guessing he is asking for some privacy. Michael nods before walking to the back of the restaurant.
“Darling,” Dante starts. So much emotion is in his mesmerizing greenish amber eyes. Many things about Dante catch your attention, but his eyes have to be the most spectacular of them all. They are so vibrant, with little flecks of gold woven in. He may hold a hard exterior, but his eyes are the windows to his soul. I can see every emotion. Every thought he has in them. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” His voice is soft, like he is speaking to a wounded animal.
I guess in some ways, I am. Not how I ever wanted to describe myself, but it’s true. Everything I have been through has turned me into this. It’s not what I want, but it’s reality right now. A reality that I plan on changing. I refuse to let everything that has happened to me affect me.
I look at Dante, trying to find the right words. I already gave him the half-truth, so that should explain why I reacted the way I did. But do I keep up with the half-truth or do I tell him the real story?
Can I trust him enough to tell him everything?
Do I trust him?
Weirdly, I do. There is something about him that I can’t put my finger on, but it calls to me. Telling me to tell him every secret I have, knowing they will be kept safe. Dante is a protector. He wouldn’t use this against me.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself before letting everything out. I pull the end of my sleeves over my hands, adding another layer of mental protection, as I debate telling him about Evan. I haven’t told the Kings, but maybe I should finally get it all off my chest. If I tell Dante, I know I will need to tell them too.
I trust all four of them. They deserve to know every dirty secret of mine, even if they are all keeping some from me. Hopefully, if I can open up, so can they.
Isn’t that what relationships are about? Honesty. Trust. Communication.
Not that we are in a relationship. I don’t even know what you would call this situation I have going on. But if this ever turned into a relationship with just one of them or all of them, the last thing I would want it to be built on is lies.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself.I need to be honest. I need to tell the whole truth. I need someone to know everything.
My voice is quiet, nervous as I start with everything that happened with Evan. The whole story. How he made me feel. What he did to me. How it ended.
The more I speak, the angrier Dante gets, though his body stays as relaxed as he can force it to be. I drip his hand, holding it with mine for him and me. I need the stability that he gives me after spilling my horrible past.
I stop speaking for a moment. Not sure where to go from here, but Dante is sitting on bated breath for me to keep going. So I do.
“Midas might drive me crazy, but I love it. Arguing with him is something foreign to me, but it feels right. To have someone challenge me and not make me feel bad about it. He may be thick-headed and arrogant, but he has a sweet side to him.
“Odin is everything I never knew I wanted. He is wild, crazy, and unpredictable, but those are the best qualities. He makes me laugh and smile even when I thought I never would.
“Zeus is strong and level-headed, but he has a darker side to him. He can be the sweetest guy to me, but he also stands up for me when I need it. He cherishes me in a way no one has before.”
Dante’s body was rigid as I spoke about the Kings. He takes in my words, assessing them. I can see the wheels turning in his head as he merges the version of them that he knows with the words I say about them. He doesn’t refute my claims, letting me get out everything I need to.
I don’t know why I need to say all this, but I do. I think it’s because of the animosity between them. I am silently praying that if they all know the truth of my feelings for each of them, they can overcome whatever is between them.
Wishful thinking, I know.
“And you, Dante. You are the most surprising to me. I don’t know much about you yet, but there is something I can’t deny between us. You are a protector, and I have never had that in my life. You spoil me in a way I never could have imagined I deserved.
“I like all four of you for very different reasons, but I feel like I need all of you to make me whole. I know that probably sounds insanely selfish and unrealistic, but it’s the truth. Since moving to Fallingbrook, life has changed so much, but it has all been for the better. I don’t want to lose any of you.”
He instantly relaxes when I say how I feel about him. He leans over, gently placing his lips against me. The kiss is sweet, tender, and not nearly long enough for my liking.
Before I can deepen the kiss, he leans back, imploring me to continue my story. This is the part that is the hardest to tell him. The stalker. My hands shake as I tell him about the letters, pictures, text messages, and roses. How he has broken into my home more than once, and about that night I thought I was going to die.
