Crave For You

Sofia

The doors of the elevator part swiftly, my reflection separating in two halves. A Scandinavian-style area comes into view, the floorboards are colored to look like wood but reveal their identity as solid marble when I place a foot inside.

Dante stays in the elevator until I am a few steps into the penthouse before his stance relaxes. He follows, erasing the gap between us in large steps. He is at my back, the heat of his body standing the hair on the nape of my neck.

"This is your new home, Bianchi," his murmur caresses the shell of my ear. He is being too comfortable with me. I mean to tell him to stay away but my words have become ice, burning my tongue with charred chillness.

A hand presses to the small of my back, urging me with pressure to move forward. I am a prisoner under the custody of this ghost. He controls me unknowingly, my numb muscles submitting to his mercy.

"This is the living area." He gestures towards the open living room plan with glass walls on the right which give a majestic view of the New York skyline.

A coffee table is spread across a flat-screen TV, framed by a royal blue sectional sofa where an orchid flower vase sits with its petals untarnished. The area is furnished with modern, sleek accents, ceramic artifacts, vintage records, and framed paintings. To the left of me, a bar counter is enclosed with gold accents with rows of wine bottles sparkling in unobstructed view.

I pay little attention to Dante's words as he points towards the various locations of his shelter which isn't modest, which is a far cry from the apartment we lived in, struggling to make ends meet with our jobs. That was the truth I had known. This was a lie.

The ghost was a lie.

Before he can continue pushing me forward like a prisoner doing a walk of shame, I slap his arm off me, coming to a halt with my feet together. My boots rub against each other as Dante turns, his eyes catching the light from outside, adding a shimmer to the pupils.

"I'd like to shower," I say, my voice hoarse like I have swallowed rocks. "If that isn't a problem."

The twitch in his jaw tells me that he has gotten the underlying message behind my request. I want nothing to do with him, or his house. But I have no place to go for now. I can't go back to my dead father's house with its two dead bodies and I can't go back to a home I had gotten used to because my betrayal has been discovered. By now, the news must be out across the city and there would be guns out with orders to shoot me on sight—

"The drive," I exclaim, the thought striking me suddenly. My stomach becomes squeamish at the memory of it being dropped to the floor as I saw my mother's face.

I left it there.

"Drive?"

"I had a hard drive with me," I explain with a shaky breath. "It must be back at the...at..."

I can't speak. The truth sticks to my tongue which in its turn sticks to the roof of my mouth. Quaking horror shivers my body at the thought of the drive falling into the wrong hands. If I have to convince Gabriel of my innocence, I need the drive.

I turn on my heels, ready to head back when fingers enclose my wrist, tugging me back.

I collide with a gasp against a hard chest. My eyes drift upward, taking in the lightly stubbled chin, the shape of his lips, the bridge of his nose, before settling on the dark greys of his eyes. The heat of Dante's body seeps into my skin, settling into my pores as a quiver travels through my body. We look at each other, lost with unspoken words dangling between us.

There is no essence of the man he once was to me. Then why does my heart leap like it recognizes his touch?

As if guessing my thoughts, the hand clasping my wrist opens, dropping its hold. I cringe, stepping as far back as possible which turns out to be only a distance of two feet before my back hits the bar counter.