Chapter 125: 28| Distraction-1

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ Distraction ┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛ Chapter 28: Distraction (Dante's POV) A sigh of exhaustion escaped me as I swung the bathroom door open and stepped out into my room, rough-drying my hair with a towel before tossing that in the hamper behind me. As I grabbed a t-shirt out of my closet and tugged it over my head, I heard the doorbell ring. Today had been a rather demanding day, but in this city and this profession, that wasn't unusual. This morning, I had to run out of Anastasia's apartment when an old client reached out, asking for help. It wasn't a huge task, and the client had been loyal to me for the past few years, so I did the job without asking too many questions and secured my paycheck. I'd gone to The Veil afterward to see Tristan since he was back from the trip he and Amara had taken. Since Kai invited himself to join us, I had plenty of company. I didn't see Anastasia much or at all today. Neither one of us went to work, but we had our own things to do. I knew she would be at dinner with her parents tonight. Her reaction to that invitation left me slightly perplexed. On the surface, I only knew a few things about her father since he often supervised cases and was involved with the FBI, being one of its largest investors and having a lot of connections with the government. Something didn't sit right with me when she mentioned her family dinner. She seemed uneasy about it, almost reluctant to go. Anastasia's past had always intrigued me, but she respected my privacy enough to never question my history, so the least I could do was return the favor. But at times like this, when something seemed to be bothering her, and I couldn't do anything to help, I realized just how little we truly knew each other. I knew Anastasia's body and mind like the back of my hand after being with her and working with her for years, but I knew nothing about her heart. She was so hard to read, I could never know what she was thinking or feeling. When my doorbell rang for a second time, I headed downstairs and to the front door. I wasn't anticipating anyone's arrival, but I certainly didn't expect hers. As I swung the door open and my eyes met hers, a charged beat passed between us. "What are you doing here?" I questioned, observing her. At first glance, she looked as put together and elegant as she always did. Her hair fell over her shoulders and cascaded down her back in loose waves with a black velvet hairband sitting up top, while a black full-sleeve top hugged her tight. The golden buckle of her black leather belt went around her waist, separating her top from the black maxi skirt that stopped just above her stilettos. She looked… perfect. Almost too perfect. I would have missed the redness rimming her eyes if I hadn't looked hard enough or the way the tip of her nose had turned a little pink, along with the flush in her cheeks. She let out a deep breath. "Dinner ended early," she simply said with a slight scratch to her voice. "And I didn't want to go home." I glanced at her up and down one more time, trying to read her body language, but she stood there completely rigid. Her shoulders were lined with tension, her face had tear stains coating her cheeks that were still shiny and damp. I had so many questions itching to crawl up my throat, but I bit my tongue. "I had nowhere else to go," she whispered, staring at the ground. She had been crying. I didn't think she was trying to hide it, but I could tell she wasn't expecting me to ask about it. I nodded once in understanding as I held her gaze. "Come here." She hesitated, her fingers tightening around her purse until her knuckles turned white. It took her a second before she finally stepped inside, stopping just an inch away from me. A shaky breath escaped her as she lifted her glassy eyes to mine. I opened my mouth to reassure her, to tell her that I wouldn't ask questions, that she didn't have to keep herself wrapped up so tightly around me, but before I could even utter a word, she collapsed into me, her purse falling to the ground as she looped both arms around my waist and dropped her cheek against my chest. Something was so incredibly wrong… I hesitated for a minute, not knowing what she wanted or needed from me, but trusting my instincts, I put an arm around her as I pushed the door shut behind her, and lifted my other hand, resting it on the back of her head. Several minutes seemed to have passed with us standing there like that. A pit of dread began pooling in my stomach from not knowing how to respond. "Anastasia," I said, pulling back just enough to look at her. "What's wrong?" She shook her head lightly. I bit down a defeated sigh. "No? You don't want to talk about it?" "No," she answered. "Tell me," I said, tilting her chin up, "what do you want from me tonight?" After a minute, she replied, "A distraction." Before I could even get a word in, she was pushing up on her toes to kiss me, placing a hand at the nape of my neck and pulling me in. With another hand firmly planted on my chest, she steered me into the living room, where she pushed me down on the couch and straddled me. In all the years of knowing her, I could count on one hand the number of times I'd said no to Anastasia. But the idea of becoming her distraction, just someone she needed and used to take her mind off of whatever was truly bothering her… it left a sour taste in my mouth, and I couldn't understand why. After all, that's what we had been doing so far; distracting each other from everything. From the chaos and frustration that bubbled up within us at work, from thoughts that haunted us to the point where we would rather use each other than be left alone with ourselves. But that was the deal. We agreed that this was purely physical, and that was all it ever could be. That was all we allowed ourselves.