Desire's Edge (31 page)
“That’s something we need to discuss. We need to talk about why you left the way you did.”
She raised her chin, looking up at him then. Anger burned in her, hot and fierce. “Really, Dante? If you were so concerned about that, why have you waited all week to tell me?”
He rubbed at his jaw, blew out a breath. “Because . . . I don’t know why. Jesus, Kara.”
“Great answer, Dante.” She ducked her head and opened her office door, shut it behind her, making an effort not to slam it.
Her heart was thundering. Her blood boiling. And the hurt was a raw wound, freshly reopened.
He didn’t know? That was the best he could do?
She stalked across the room, sat down hard in her chair, smoothing her hands over the neat chignon she’d pulled her hair into that morning. She could not believe she was doing it, but she was going to plead sick and go home. She picked up her phone, dialed Ruby’s extension.
“Ruby, it’s Kara. I’m not feeling well. I need you to cancel everything on my calendar today.”
“Are you okay?”
“I . . . Not really. I just need to go. Can you take care of it for me?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll handle things here. I don’t want you to worry about anything. Do what you need to do, Kara.”
“Thanks, Ruby. For everything.”
She hung up and bent down to drag her purse and her briefcase from under the desk. Got up and pulled her coat back on. She paused for a moment, her hand on the doorknob, hoping Dante was nowhere in sight. She opened the door.
The hall was empty, and she was grateful for it. And angry that Dante hadn’t tried any harder to talk with her.
She’d been the one who had told him to go away. That she wasn’t going to talk to him.
Maybe she was an idiot. But it had felt like pure survival. It still did.
She sighed, moved down the hall to the elevator, stepped in. And caught sight of Dante coming out of Charles Landers’s office. He was staring at her, his face tight, as the elevator doors slid shut.
She kept breathing, pulling air into her lungs as she reached the ground floor, made her way to her car, drove home. By the time she reached her apartment, her chest was aching, the pain so heavy she had to force herself to breathe. And the tears burned behind her eyelids, in her throat.
She shook off her coat, dropped it and her purse, her briefcase, on the floor. On autopilot, she went to the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. She didn’t know what else to do. Tea was an old, familiar comfort, and she needed comfort now.
She needed Dante.
No
.
.
She gripped the edge of the counter, the old white tile cool beneath her fingers. Grounding her. She stared at the tiles, the box of tea on the counter. It was all running together, blurred by the tears pooling in her eyes.
Don’t do it
.
.
She couldn’t cry anymore. She could not do it. If she gave herself up to the tears again, she was afraid she’d never stop.
The kettle whistled and she gave herself a mental shake, poured the boiling water into one of her cobalt-blue mugs, dipped a bag of Earl Grey tea for several moments before taking the mug between her chilled hands and carrying it into the bedroom.
There, she stepped out of her tailored skirt, pulled her turtleneck sweater over her head. She shivered in the winter air.
She needed to be warm. To climb under the covers with her tea and curl up. Maybe sleep the pain away.
She yanked the covers down, then took off her bra, stepped out of her underwear, and was taking her white cotton knit robe from the hook in her bathroom when she heard a knock at the front door.
She pulled the robe on, tying the sash around her waist as she moved through the apartment. Her pulse was racing. She knew it would be him, somehow.
How had he gotten in past the door downstairs? Had she left it open in her hurry to get home? But she couldn’t think about it, could barely think at all.
When she opened the door her heart filled with pain. Need. Dread.
Dante.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded with as much force as she could manage.
She was breathless. Stunned. By the fact that he’d come after her. By the emotion trembling through her system like a series of small shocks. And, underneath it all, she was still mad as hell.
“I had to talk to you, Kara. I realized it wasn’t appropriate to talk with you at work.”
“But bending me over your desk to spank me was?”
He ran a hand over his dark hair. “That was . . . different.”
She let out a short, barking laugh. “Yes, it was.”
“I don’t blame you for being angry with me. But just . . . let me in.” She started to shake her head, to close the door, but he put a hand out, stopping her. “Please, Kara.”
His voice had gone soft. She couldn’t resist. The anger in her wanted to. Wanted to slam the door in his face, scream at him to go away and leave her alone.
Her heart never wanted him to go.
She took a step back, let him move past her into the apartment. She closed the front door, pulling her robe tighter around her as she turned to face him.
His eyes were glittering with emotion, but she couldn’t tell what it was, exactly. And under his eyes were dark circles she’d never seen there before.
It could be his court case. Maybe he was worried, staying up late to work.
She didn’t want to hope that it was
her
. That he actually cared in the same way she did. She couldn’t believe it was true. She didn’t dare.
her
. That he actually cared in the same way she did. She couldn’t believe it was true. She didn’t dare.
“Okay,” she said finally. “You’re here. What do you need to say to me so badly that you had to follow me home in the middle of a workday?”
“Christ, Kara. Screw work. This is important.”
“Is it? Why, Dante? You couldn’t tell me when we were at the office.”
He scrubbed at his jaw. “I don’t blame you for being so closed off to me right now. I shouldn’t have approached you at work. And I think I know why you left my place on Sunday. I
think
I do. But I need to hear it from you.” He took a step toward her. “The truth is, I don’t trust myself when it comes to you. My head is all fucked-up. My instincts are fucked-up. So I’m probably way off base.”
think
I do. But I need to hear it from you.” He took a step toward her. “The truth is, I don’t trust myself when it comes to you. My head is all fucked-up. My instincts are fucked-up. So I’m probably way off base.”
She couldn’t help but challenge him. There was enough anger in her still. “Why do you think I left, Dante?”
“Because I haven’t . . . I haven’t opened myself to you. Not the way I’ve asked you to do with me. And it’s not fair. I haven’t been honest with you. And I’m sorry.”
His features had gone soft. She was shivering all over. “I’ve shut myself off to you, too, Dante.”
“You’ve been totally open with me.”
She shook her head. “I haven’t.”
It was true. She hadn’t given him the one crucial piece of the puzzle that was their relationship. A relationship built on the secrets they’d kept from each other, as much as it was on the things they’d revealed. If she was going to be fair about this, she had to tell him the one truth she’d held so close.
“Dante . . .” She looked at him, her gaze catching his, holding it. His eyes were that gleaming whiskey brown she’d come to love. She loved so many things about him. It was time to let him know. To be honest. To reveal her truth.
Remembering her feelings for him made her soften, go loose all over, the anger melting away, along with the fear. Things were so fractured between them already, maybe she had nothing left to lose.
“Dante, the one thing I’ve been keeping from you is . . . that I love you.” She shrugged helplessly. “I do. I love you.”
Shock in his eyes. Her heart filled with dread. Had this been a mistake?
“Jesus, Kara.”
“And, Dante, there’s more,” she said, realizing only then by the absolutely torn expression on his face that it was true. “You love me, too.” She was shaking, a hard trembling making her legs weak, but she stepped closer to him, until she was only inches away. Close enough to breathe him in.
She waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she tried again through clenched teeth. “You love me, God damn it. I can see it. Feel it. And I love you, despite myself. So I know just how you’re feeling. But I’m putting it out here on the table. I am taking that chance, which feels enormous to me. Because I have loved people before. And I’ve lost out. I’ve been rejected. By my own parents. By my ex. And I’ve hated how weak that makes me feel. How powerless. So you reject me, too, if you have to. But I’m not walking away again until you do. Because that would really be where the weakness is. And I refuse to be that person. I refuse.”
He shook his head. His face was so dark, his expression so raw, she had no idea what might come next. Her heart was thundering in her chest, her pulse going a million miles an hour. But it felt good that she’d said it, finally. That she’d let the truth out. She felt stronger for it, for being honest. True to herself.
Finally, he shook his head, and said so softly she had to strain to hear him, “You are a hell of a lot braver than I am, Kara.”
She waited for more. But he was standing there, his arms hanging at his sides. He was watching her, as he’d done so often before. And after several moments had passed, the anger was coming back, surging through her veins.
“God damn it, Dante! Say something. How do you feel about this? About what I’ve told you. About
me
? Tell me you love me, or tell me you don’t. But I’m not letting you walk away from your feelings. Or mine.
Especially
mine. I deserve better than that.”
me
? Tell me you love me, or tell me you don’t. But I’m not letting you walk away from your feelings. Or mine.
Especially
mine. I deserve better than that.”
“Yes, you do. You deserve more than I can give you, Kara.”
“That’s such bullshit.” He looked shocked again, his mouth opening as if he was going to speak, but she wouldn’t let him. “That is the same old crap you’ve been telling yourself for how long? Since you lost your college girlfriend? I don’t mean to be less than sympathetic, because I can imagine how awful that must have been for you, whether you loved her or not. But how long are you going to use that as an excuse?”
That seemed to stop him cold. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He closed it, blinked. And as she watched him, his features shifted, smoothed, the shadows in his eyes clearing.
“Not ever again,” he said, grabbing her and holding her arms in his hands, his grip tight. “I’m done with that. Because you’re right. It’s an old, worn-out excuse. It
is
bullshit. I’ve used what happened with Erin my entire adult life. My own experiences with my family. My guilt over never being able to help my mother. But the truth is that she didn’t want my help. Even when . . .”
is
bullshit. I’ve used what happened with Erin my entire adult life. My own experiences with my family. My guilt over never being able to help my mother. But the truth is that she didn’t want my help. Even when . . .”
He paused, and she could feel him shaking a little through his grip on her arms. And in his eyes was that raw vulnerability she’d seen in him before. Years ago, when he’d hit Brady. And a few times during sex. She had no idea what was coming next.
“Kara, I’ve never said this to another person, aside from my brother, Lorenzo. But I need to tell you now . . . when I was ten years old I saw my father hit my mother. He slapped her. I don’t remember why, what they were arguing about. It only happened that one time, that I know of.”
Kara shook her head. She didn’t know what to say. And he wasn’t finished.
“I guess they worked things out, my parents. And as an adult, there have been so many times when I wanted to tell my mom I’d protect her. But I haven’t ever done it. I talked to Lorenzo about it a few years ago and he said he thinks they’re fine. And maybe they are. I understand my mother’s always wanted my dad to make all the decisions. There must have been . . . I don’t know, some sense of safety in that for her. Or maybe her own excuse to be weak. I don’t know,” he said again. “But I remember that feeling of powerlessness. That fear. I hated it. I still do. It’s become a driving force in my life. And my father . . . all the crap he fed my brother and me about how we had to be men. Be responsible. Even when were nine, ten years old. That’s too much to put on a kid, for God’s sake. And maybe I’ve always known that. But parents tend to have this . . . sort of weird stranglehold on us. And it’s all made me—I’ve let it make me—into this hyper-responsible guy. It’s not that witnessing that one slap has led me into being a dominant so I can sexualize it. But it has been a way for me to work through that . . . absolute helplessness to
help
her. My mother. Erin. But even that I’ve used to hide behind. And I’ve known it, too, all along. I haven’t wanted to think about it. But being with you, Kara . . . that’s changed everything. Made me look deeper.”
help
her. My mother. Erin. But even that I’ve used to hide behind. And I’ve known it, too, all along. I haven’t wanted to think about it. But being with you, Kara . . . that’s changed everything. Made me look deeper.”
She was staring at him, hardly able to believe the things he was saying to her. Wanting more from him. But she had to acknowledge what he was giving her, that look inside. “It all makes sense to me, Dante. I’ve been thinking a lot of these same things recently. I’ve realized how much of my own self-image has always been related to my parents. And how badly I’ve needed to move beyond their opinion of me. What I’d gotten from them growing up, what I needed but never got.” She paused, biting her lip, trying to think it through. “I have to stop feeling so damn sorry for myself about it. It is what it is. I can’t go back, can’t change them. All I can change is myself. My relationship with Jake emphasized those same feelings of being judged and coming up short, but you know . . . fuck him. He doesn’t deserve that much energy from me, and I’m done feeding into it.”
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