radicalducati Chapter 5
Chapter 5
The next day, Mireille had her hair tied up in a bun as she stood in front of the stocked closet. She hadn’t realized Dante had gone so far as to fill it until she opened it that morning.
The space was filled with designer clothes—every single item was ridiculously expensive. Mireille wondered how much he’d spent on it all.
“Whatever he spent... I doubt I could earn it in three years with the jobs I’m being offered.”
She sighed, shaking her head. Last night, she’d browsed the net again, and, as before, all the well-to-do companies had rejected her applications. The few responses she’d gotten were from small cafés she’d applied to in moments of desperation.
With another sigh, she finally settled on a black fluffy top and blue boyfriend-fit jeans. Returning to her room, she decided to call James to check in on him.
James picked up immediately.
“I was just about to call you,” he said.
“I beat you to it,” she replied with a chuckle.
“So... are you comfortable there?” James asked.
“Fairly. But if I’d known it was Dante, I definitely wouldn’t have packed my things,” she replied.
“Dante’s reliable, and he’ll treat you well. But you remember how he was back in high school. He’s still a bit of a playboy, and I don’t want you falling for him or anything.”
“I don’t need to remind you how much I dislike Dante, right? He’s wild, annoying, and a total player. I can’t stand someone who sleeps with different women just because he can. I hate him, and you know that, so don’t worry—I’m not falling for him. It’ll never happen.”
“Great. Say it again. Say you hate him.”
“I hate Dante Romano,” Mireille declared.
“Hate is a strong word, Princess,” Dante said, stepping into the room. Mireille’s eyes widened, and James abruptly ended the call without a word.
Mireille dropped the phone and turned to face Dante.
“I said what I said,” she replied sharply, but her attention drifted to his appearance.
He looked as stunning as ever. Dante stood tall and proud in the doorway, his broad shoulders emphasizing his masculine frame. His perfectly tailored suit hugged his body in all the right places. The crisp, white dress shirt beneath it complemented the gray of his eyes, while his meticulously styled hair completed the look.
“Keep staring, Princess,” he teased, spreading his arms with a shrug.
“I wasn’t staring,” Mireille lied.
“You tell the most obvious lies,” Dante said, shaking his head as he walked toward her.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To work. You don’t think all my money appeared by magic, do you?” He smirked, then added, “Unless you don’t want me to leave?”
Mireille looked away from his intense gaze. “Go to work. I can’t wait for you to leave—I feel suffocated with you around.”
Dante smiled faintly as he stepped back. “You’re the only woman I know who dares to say she hates me. Maybe that’s because...” He reached out, gently tilting her face to meet his gaze.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice steady despite the tingling in her chest.
“Maybe it’s because I’ve never fucked you,” he said with a grin. Mireille’s cheeks burned as her eyes widened in shock.
“What the hell are you saying?” she demanded, though her voice came out softer than she intended.
“Maybe all that hatred could be solved with a good fuck. Your dumb boyfriend doesn’t satisfy you, does he?” He winked, and Mireille shoved him away with all her strength.
“Are you insane? Is this what James asked you to do—flirt with me all day?”
“I was joking, Princess,” Dante said, his tone playful. “I love flirting, but don’t worry—I don’t sleep with good girls. I prefer my women wild and experienced.”
Mireille bit back a retort, glaring at him instead.
“That wasn’t funny,” she finally said. “Let’s be clear—what do you see me as?”
Dante didn’t answer, his eyes trailing over her instead.
“I’m not one of your women,” she continued.
“I know that.”
“I’m supposed to be like a sister to you, right? You wouldn’t say things like this to your sister if you had one, would you?”
“You’re not my sister,” Dante said simply.
Mireille blinked. “Then what am I to you?”
Dante’s expression turned serious. “Less than a woman, but definitely not a sister.”
For reasons she couldn’t explain, his words stung. “Whatever. You’re unreasonable,” she said, turning and walking back into the closet.
Inside, she leaned against the wall, her eyes shut tightly. She slapped her cheek lightly, trying to shake the lingering heat from her body.
“Get a hold of yourself,” she muttered.