Chapter 45 His surprise gift
Isabella POV
He could have snapped my neck or punched me in the face, but he walked back to the table and returned the plate where it belonged. “Now, if you’re done with your little meltdown, can we move on?”
I stayed rooted to the spot, still afraid of the place he wanted to show me.
“isabella, if I were going to kill you, I would tell you. Believe me, I want to see you cry and scream. I get off on that shit. But that’s not on the itinerary today.”
He came back to me, his large arms stiff by his sides as he approached me. He stopped in front of me then looked down, annoyance written all over his face
.
“Promise me?” I whispered. Listening to him make a promise was the only way I could really trust him. He said he would always be honest with me, so listening to a promise shouldn’t make a difference. And if he was a liar, he wouldn’t have a problem making an endless line of promises because he would break every single one of them. But it made me feel better.
His hands slid up to my face and cupped both of my cheeks. “I promise.”
He was the man I was afraid of, but once the danger passed, he somehow became my savior. I shouldn’t be grateful for his gentleness, not when he threatened me every day. I shouldn’t appreciate his good days when there were so many bad ones. He dropped my expectations so low that every good thing he did was received as a gift. It was a form of psychological warfare. He kissed me softly on the mouth, his fingers reaching into my hair. He bent his neck down to kiss me and yanked me onto my tiptoes so our mouths could
reach each other easier. He pulled me into him and let me balance against his chest, his warm touch surrounding me.
I felt better once I had that kiss, but I shouldn’t love his affection so much. He took his kiss away then walked toward the hallway. This time, I followed him. We walked across the hardwood floor and then turned to the door on the left. He grabbed the doorknob but didn’t turn it right away. Instead, he looked at
me. “I had someone help me with this. If it’s not what you want, let me know. I can change it.”
My eyes narrowed, having no idea what he was about to show me. Was it my own bedroom? Why would I care about having my own space, especially when my apartment was just fifteen minutes away?
He opened the door and stepped inside first. He moved to the left, so I could walk in past him. I stepped inside and stared at the floor-to-ceiling window that had a perfect view of the entire city. So much natural sunlight flooded inside, along with the open skylight at the top. It was a painter’s dream.
There were three easels next to the window, all set up with different paint colors, brushes, and other tools. A large table was in the center of the room, storing all the extra supplies I needed.
Two large couches were centered around a coffee table in the corner, a place where I could sit when I wasn’t painting. I stared at everything, completely dumbfounded by the sight in front of me. He did all this for me?
Dante studied my face, watching every little reaction I gave. “I thought you could do your artwork in here. You said that natural light was the most important component to any picture. In here, you have plenty of it, especially since the sun rises in front of the window. Now that you want to do this full time, you need an office. You’ll have plenty of space, and when I’m not around, you can come here and use it whenever you want.” I was still speechless, staring at this kind gift. From Dante. Was this really happening?
“I…I don’t know what to say.” Dante was harsh, cruel, and lethal. He still vowed that he wanted to kill me and get the revenge he deserved. He wasn’t kind to me most of the time, and he treated me like a slave rather than a person. But then he did something incredibly thoughtful and generous. It didn’t make any sense. “I really don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything at all.” He moved his hands to his pockets and admired the view outside the window. I stared at his back, wondering if there was a heart inside that muscled mass after all. Maybe there was more light inside his soul than he let on. Maybe he wasn’t just a stone-cold killer but actually a conflicted man suffering from old
wounds.
“I have to be honest and tell you this isn’t entirely selfless.” He turned around again, his black hoodie stretching over the muscles of his shoulders. Even when he stood in a room with vaulted ceilings, he still looked incredibly tall. His muscled mass made him appear large, no matter what he stood next to. “It’s not?” I whispered. “No.” He walked back toward me, his blue eyes returning to their cold look. “I want you to make something for me.”
“You want me to paint for you?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my tone. He seemed impressed by my work, but he wasn’t an art collector. The stuff he had in his home had been selected by Michael. “Yes.”
“What do you want me to paint?” Maybe he wanted me to paint a portrait of his mother. He’d seen me draw lifelike versions of my family. It wasn’t as good as a photograph, but pretty close. He came closer to me, standing so close I could feel his breath fall across my
lips. His hands went to my arms, his fingertips gliding across my smooth skin. He moved his forehead to mine, his eyes on my lips. “You.”