Page 103 of Their Fairy Princess (Office Intrigue Duet 7)
“We could take care of the house,” he suggested.
I tucked the last of my shorts into the dresser drawer.
“We?”
“Yeah. You know, cleaning, cooking, yard work, taking care of the pool.”
I smiled. “Grocery shopping. I could see that working. It’s a big house and a massive yard.”
We sat there for a moment. I could practically hear Dante’s mind working, but he didn’t speak for the longest time. I thought he was going to go get the boxes when he stood, took my hand, tugged me toward the door.
“Where’re we going?”
“I need to tell you some things.”
“Okay.”
He started into the guest room at the same time Ian was walking toward us.
Dante stopped. “We’re going to … talk.”
“Sure. You seen Isaac?”
I nodded. “He said he had to take care of some things.”
Ian nodded, turned, and headed in the opposite direction.
Dante pulled me into the room, gestured toward the bed.
“What’s going on?” I asked, turning to face him.
“Can we sit?”
“Of course.”
With no other options, I climbed onto the bed. Dante joined me, then tugged me into him, pulled me down onto the pillow. He spooned behind me, wrapped his arms tightly over me.
“What’s wrong, Dante?”
“I need to tell you what happened to me.”
I tried to turn, to face him, but he held me against him, not letting me move.
“I need it this way,” he said, pressing his face into my hair. “Please.”
The pain in his voice scared me, but I managed a nod, gripping his arm, holding him.
“I’m going to preface this by saying that I’m damaged, Everly, but I’m not broken. It’s important that you understand that.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I remained quiet.
A few minutes later, I understood all too well. He told me about Roger/Vernon, what he’d done to him at the club, the abuse he’d endured, the threats that had been made against me and Heaven. That was horrific, but it didn’t hold a candle to what he told me after. When Dante launched into the abuse he’d sustained at his father’s hand, I started to cry.
“I didn’t want to tell you,” he whispered. “For this reason, Everly. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
“You couldn’t hurt me,” I said on a jagged sob. “It just… It breaks my heart that someone could do that to another person. Much less you.”
“I know, sweetheart. Which is why I couldn’t tell you. I knew you’d understand, but I also know that hearing it will take a piece of you. I don’t want that.”
This time, I did turn in his arms, facing him, cupping his face. “I gave that piece of me to you, Dante. A long time ago. Because I love you.”
“I know you do. And I cherish that.” He brushed my hair back from my face. “I love you, too. And that’ll never change.”
For some reason, I believed him.
Two hours later, I was sitting in the library, taking advantage of the peace and quiet. It gave me time to think, to process. I was sitting in the window, staring out at the backyard as I’d been doing for the past hour. Replaying Dante’s story again and again, feeling my heart break over and over.
“You all right?”
I didn’t turn to look at Ian, but I managed a nod.
“I will be,” I assured him.
He came over, and in his true Dom fashion, he forced me to look at him by picking me up, carrying me over to the recliner, then sitting down and situating me on his lap.
Unable to resist his warmth, the security I found in his arms, I held on, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. He didn’t push me to talk, just hugged me to him, kissed the top of my head.
We remained like that for long minutes until I knew I had to get some of it out, fearful the evil would settle in somewhere and break me into pieces.
“Ian?”
“Hmm?”
“How can someone do that to another person?”
“Which someone are we talking about?”
“Any of them. Dante’s sick father, this asshole who thinks Dante’s something he can own. I just don’t get it.”
“I don’t, either, Everly.”
I tilted my head back, stared at his neck. “Tell me about your family.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” I admitted.
He sighed. “They’re back in Dublin. I hear from my father a couple times a year. On our birthday, Christmas. For the most part, we’ve separated from him by choice.”
“Your choice? Or his?”
“Mutual.” His hand brushed softly over my hair. “Before we came to the US, things were rocky between my father and me. Normal teenage stuff. I thought I knew everything; he insisted he did.”
I chuckled. “I can see that.”
He squeezed my thigh. “Since we were old enough to wreak havoc, Isaac stuck with me wherever I went, and I wanted it that way. We’d been best friends since the womb. I can’t be away from him for long before I get antsy. Not many people know that, either.”
