Chapter 14: Fooling Around

Nick cleared his throat. "Boss, you're making her uncomfortable."

Of course he is, Nick. And he's thriving on it.

Danté chuckled and stepped away from me, looking arrogant. "Don't you like that shade of pink on her face, Rider?"

Nick gave me the clothes he was meant to bring. He stood between me and Danté, which made me want to exhale in relief. I couldn't survive a moment longer with Danté that near to me. Looking like that. I would certainly have a heart attack.

My heart still pounded like I ran a marathon.

"Thanks," I tell Nick when I took the soft black bundle of fabric he gave me.

Danté made his way upstares. "We should get you some clothes. I can't have my men murder each other over whose clothes you wear, Princess. I don't want the carpets stained red."

I wanted to kick him so badly. He's insufferable.

"Sorry about that, Vee." Nick apologized. "Danté could be a giant pain in the ass when he wants to be. He likes toying around with people."

"You can say that again," I said in an irritated voice. I can't believe I'll have to stay in his house for who knows how long.

How will I keep myself from slapping his arrogant face in the next few days?

Danté disappeared to the base soon after, despite my and Nick's objections. Nick reluctantly left with him, "Because the stupid bastard could faint or something."

I was left in the mansion by myself. A few of Danté's lackeys did guard the parameter of the place, but they wouldn't so much as look at me. So, I couldn't even ask them a few questions about The Inferno to continue my investigation.

I settled with exploring the mansion. Each room was spacious and decorated to perfection. There wasn't a speck of dust on anything.

There was a pool outside, which was probably the size of the kitchen back at my apartment.

There were also vast gardens with lots of beautiful plants and flowers. I didn't take Danté for someone to have a rose garden. He seemed more like the type of person to give someone a rose stem, the bud cut off, and the thorns left just as they are - so you would prick your fingers and bleed.

I was reminded of how he held onto my hand like a child the previous night. And how he put his jacket around my shoulders at the abandoned factory and asked me if I was hurt.

My heart almost wanted to believe that this man might have a softer side to him. But my mind quickly reminded me that he was a leader of the mafia. A killer.

I was still wandering around the gardens when I saw a car driving towards the mansion. It was a luxury black vehicle with tinted windows.

I could feel my nerves starting to eat at my stomach, even though Nick had said that the mansion was perfectly safe and no one could enter the gates without direct authorization from Danté himself.

The car parked and out sprang a familiar tall blonde woman.

We ran into each other's arms, and Hannah nearly knocked me off balance.

"My Pooksie Wooksie~~ I was so worried!" She cried as she squeezed the life out of me.

Damian, who got out of the driver's side of the car, made his way towards us. The sunlight reflected in his sunglasses.

"I'm fine, I'm okay," I said to reassure her, but I definitely wasn't okay or fine. "I'm in one piece."

Hannah backed away and touched the side of my face where the giant man had slapped me. Her eyes filled with tears. "My Pooksie... Who did this to your pretty little face?"

"It's just a little bruise, don't worry. I'm a police officer, I've had many of these before. Don't cry," I sniffed against the tears forming in my own eyes, "or you'll make me cry too."

Hannah wailed and I wailed with her.

Damian stood awkwardly, a few steps from us. He removed his sunglasses and hooked them to the front of his shirt.

I calmed Hannah down, reassuring her that I wasn't hurt that badly and that the gang fight wasn't that traumatizing.

I noticed Damian holding my laptop bag in his hand. The little piano charm that Hannah gave me in high school dangled from the zip.

"How did you get that? I asked Damian. I had locked it in my locker back at work.

"I know my way around the station, and the lock on your locker was easy to pick," Damian responded.

That is very concerning.

He handed me the bag. "I gave your phone to Zero. He's our... IT guy."

I didn't question it. I'm sure 'Zero' probably wasn't the guy's real name.

"How long will it take to see if he can save the evidence?"

Damian shrugged. "He said he wasn't even sure if it can be saved. Your phone was smashed to pieces. But he'll try his best."

Please let that evidence be saved.

Please don't let all the lives lost last night be for nothing.

We made our way inside, and Damian put his hand on the small of Hannah's back as we walked. But she ever so slightly moved away from his touch.

I frowned. She was so smitten with him the other night, why would she refuse his touch now?

"Let's have some hot chocolate!" Hannah exclaimed as she ran into the kitchen like a little girl. She clearly knew her way around the place, making me wonder how many times she had been here before.

I stole a look at Damian. His face was a perfectly practiced mask, making him seem unbothered by Hannah's weird rejection from earlier. His eyes, however, told me how confused he was.

I felt kind of sorry for him.

Hannah made two cups of hot chocolate and led the way to the living room.

"I have to excuse myself. Let me know if you need anything," Damian said to me. He was about to leave when he turned around again.

"Oh, right. You can't. You don't have a phone." He looked like he wanted to smack himself.

He dug around in pockets and pulled out a cell phone. "Here, take this one. It's an extra phone of mine."

Damian handed me the phone then grunted taking it back. "Let me just put our numbers on here first. How will you be able to contact me without knowing my number."

While he typed, I silently stared at him. Damian seemed so out of it. He was always so determined, knowing exactly what he was doing. So, it was strange seeing him fumble like this.

Did that one little action from Hannah really upset him that much? Was he that into her?

Damian finally handed me the phone after cursing himself. "I'll go now."

His eyes said that he really wanted to stay. He glanced past me - towards the living room. Then he nodded and left.

"Did you have to be so mean?" I asked Hannah when I sat down next to her on the couch. She was sipping from her mug, which had a bunch off marshmellows sticking out.

She looked away. "What do you mean?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. "How you avoided his touch. How you didn't make him hot chocolate."

"I thought you hated them. Why are you standing up for him?" asked Hannah.

She had a good point, but she was avoiding the question.

"Did he hurt you?" I asked her. But I knew from the way Damian looked at her that he would never do that.

Hannah met my eyes, still glancing at me over her mug. "Of course not. He would never."

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing. We weren't together anyway," Hannah said as she put her mug down on the glass surface of the coffee table. "I just don't want to hang out with him anymore."

There was someone else.

"Hannah. Who are you seeing this time?" I groaned. I wished she could just stick to one guy at a time and stop fooling around like this. She's going to get hurt if this carries on.

"I could see your whole inner monologue there, Pooksie. And let me tell you: I'm not the settling kind of girl. I don't settle with one guy." Hannah crossed her legs. "We both know how that ends."

I gulped down memories.

"But you keep messing around with either dangerous guys, or guys that leave you," I said. "Guys that aren't good for you."

"He's a cop."

Her words startled me. "What?"

"The guy that I'm currently 'messing around with'. He's a Sergeant at HQ, where you work."

I squinted my eyes at her. "A cop? You? Aren't you against the police?"

The other day she told me that the police aren't good people, but now she's seeing a cop? What was going on here?

"He's a really good guy, with a bright personality. And he has a killer sense of humor. He's also very good at his job," Hannah told me. "But we aren't official. We're just hanging out."

I must know this guy then if he works in the police.

"What's his name?" I asked Hannah, curious to find out who this man was.

"I'm not telling you," she answered.

"Why not?" I exclaimed. She always told me the names of the guys she went out with. Why wouldn't she tell me about this one?

"It's a secret."

"Secret, my ass. Why aren't you telling me his name?" I had a bad feeling about this. There was definitely a reason why she wasn't telling me. She knew I would be against it.

"I just don't wanna. C'mon, Pooksie. We aren't even serious." Hannah giggled nervously.

Oh, shit. She said he was a sergeant. That means that he was much older than her. There aren't any sergeants our age.

"No, Hannaaaah. Don't tell me you're dating a guy twice your age!" I shook her by the shoulders.

"I am not! He isn't that much older than us!" Hannah let me shake her.

I stopped and frowned at her. Did she think I was stupid? "Impossible. You're lying."

"Am not! There is a sergeant who--" Hannah caught herself before she spilled too much information.

"Who what?" I was burning with questions and I wanted to know who this man was.

Her phone suddenly rang, and she quickly answered it to avoid my questioning.

After she finished, she called Damian to come pick her up.

"Where do you think you're going?" I bolted up with her and grabbed her arm. She wasn't getting away that easily.

"I have to go see a client now. I'll visit again soon," Hannah said, patting my hand with a sugary smile.

"Just tell me his name!" I yelled after her as she left. She just giggled and waved in response.

The rest of the day passed in a bore, along with my mind running laps on Hannah and who she was seeing, the whole plan with Danté and The Inferno, and how I was going to get back in the police.

I explored the mansion further to find a room with a grand piano right in the center. The big windows were decorated by thick red curtains draped around them.

The piano was black, like almost everything in this house. It shined brillianty, making it obvious that it was well taken care of.

I stood in the doorway for what felt like ninety years.

My fingers tips ached to touch the ivory keys. Every bone in my body yearned to feel the notes.

I couldn't. I shouldn't. I haven't played in so long...

I entered the room, the smell of pine needles welcoming me in.

I'll just sit by it. The piano. I'll just run my fingertips across the keys and then leave.

The room was warmer than the rest, and to me, it was the most cozy. The most... home.

The seat creaked with my weight. I opened the cover that protected the keys. They were so beautiful. Not quite white, not quite cream. And the ebonies gleamed as the dim, fading light from outside fell on them.

My heart fluttered as I pressed down on a key.

Before I knew it, I was completely caught up in the melody I was playing. Each note was like a breath, a heart beat. I couldn't stop. I was gasping and sweat dripped from my forehead, down my chin.

When the song finally came to an end, a pair of clapping hands startled me.

"Beethoven's Sonata No. 17. That's a f*cking hard piece to master." Nick walked in, hair bouncing with every step. "That was amazing. You're good."

I blushed. It felt like he saw me naked.

"Uh-uhm, thanks. I was just fooling around."

He came to sit right next to me, the seat now moaning at both our weights.

"That was you only fooling around?" His eyes were wide. Then his lips curled into a confident smile. "Then I want to see what your definition of 'playing seriously' is."

He put his long fingers on the keys. His muscular thigh touched mine, sending warmth through my whole body.

"Why don't we play something together?" Nick requested with a gleam in his lightning eyes.