جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 20

CHELSEA Air pumps harsh and fast through my lungs as I jog through the park, keeping up with Dante's long strides. "Do you. Always. Jog. So fast? I'm literally. Running." I punctuate each word with a breath. "Then you're slow," he says without even breaking a sweat. "No I'm not, you're just unusually fast." "Whatever makes you sleep at night." He chuckles deeply. Oh fuck you. Of course I say that in my head, not out loud. We jog around a group of possibly thirteen-year-olds playing soccer in the field in a small group. Their cheers fill the air when one of them scores and Dante sports a small smile, watching them. Huh. They start playing again and one kicks the ball a little too hard. It launches into the air and plummets towards us. Towards me. In a split second, I ready myself to catch the ball. But... I'm Chelsea, right? Oh shit. I shield my face just as the spinning ball heads for me, waiting for the hit of the round object, but it doesn't come. Opening my eyes, Dante'

CHELSEADante taps the button rapidly. Furiously.The panel blinks the same number eight without changing."Fuck, how the hell is an elevator out of order so soon? What do I pay them for?" Dante mutters under his breath."Wait, this building is yours?" I blurt out before I can stop myself."Of course it is. Would I rent an apartment?"No, he wouldn't. I should have seen that coming.He runs his hands through his hair, ruffling it and sighing deeply."How do we get help?" I ask the most practical question of the moment."If the people I hired are doing their jobs properly, then they already know of the problem with the elevator."Just me and Dante in an elevator that wasn't large enough for six people.Suddenly the small box becomes increasingly smaller. I move away from him and lean against the cold steel wall, closing my eyes.Just breathe. Breathe. You are fine.Dante places his phone to his ear."Hey Giovanni. You need to continue without me. Yes. I'm stuck in the elevator and I do

CHELSEAMy breaths come in puffs and pants as I run alongside Dante, keeping up with his long strides.Guess practice does make perfect.My hair in a tight ponytail bounces, grazing my neck with each step I take."Should I do a regular with the kids?" He nods at the same group of children playing soccer the other morning.I glance up to meet his gaze. The sun lighting his dark green eyes, making them look like a lighter shade, has to be the highlight of—Nope, it definitely isn't."No, that would be a waste of time and energy," I deadpan, glancing away from him."And you're gonna say you didn't like my play the other day. You weren't at least jealous?" he says with a humorous tone, but I ignore him and shake my head.Why can't he just get the message? Don't talk to me. Stay away from me. But of course I say that in my head."My schedule for the day," he suddenly says, and I pause before responding."Um, you have a meeting by 12 p.m. with a businessman at a cafe."Weird, I know. I fixed

CHELSEA I step back into the elevator and he presses the button. His hand snakes behind my waist as he nudges me inside the house. My body shivers in response. "Welcome to my humble abode," he says proudly. "You know this isn't the first time I'm here, right?" "Well, now you're here under different circumstances, aren't you?" He steps closer to me, his gaze meeting mine. "Well, yeah, I guess." I shrug and look away. "Don't worry, I have something. I hope you don't mind frozen food." "No, I don't." "Good. For now, you may want to enjoy something." He enters a room behind the kitchen. After a few seconds, he steps out with a bottle and two glasses in his hands. "Isn't wine supposed to be for dinner?" "Is there anyone stopping us from having wine now? Except you don't want it." He turns to leave. "How could I refuse?" I say, and he comes back, pouring a glass for me. "Enjoy, while I prepare lunch." He nods and leaves. I try not to look at him as he works in the kitchen, bu

CHELSEA"I'll go get the box." He nods and sits on the couch.He hisses as I apply alcohol to the wound, which, by the way, is deeper than a scratch. Why did he lie? There's no way he'd get a wound this deep and not feel it or not know how he got it.At least, it's not bad enough to need stitches."Sorry," I say blandly as a memory crosses my mind.My hands graze his neck, and he goes absurdly still.What the hell?I swipe the cotton wool over the wound again, making sure my fingers graze his neck. I didn't think he could get any stiffer, but he does. His body goes rigid under my touch, and he sucks in a breath.I glance over his shoulder, and his hands are on his knees. He grips them tight.This man is weird.I cover the wound with a small piece of bandage and plaster."All done." I tap his shoulder, and he jerks up."Thank you." His eyes are drawn and hollow. "Thank you," he says again, nodding and picking up his jacket."How did you get wounded?" I ask as he turns his back to me."