Chapter 29 Appointment
Aria hadn't slept well, but for once it wasn't the job keeping her awake.
She'd spent most of the night staring at her ceiling, thinking about that video. About her father's explanation: doctored footage, business rivals, psychological warfare. It made sense. Everything Bruno said always made sense.
So why couldn't she shake the feeling that something was wrong?
By seven AM, she'd given up on sleep and headed to the hospital early. Three consults, two follow-ups, and one emergency case later, she'd almost managed to forget about anonymous packages and surveillance footage.
Almost.
Then her ten o'clock appointment appeared in her doorway, and everything else faded to background noise.
Dante leaned against the frame, looking unfairly good in dark jeans and a henley that did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he was built like someone who could break things professionally. His hair was slightly mussed, like he'd been running his hands through it, and when he smiled at her, something in her chest did this stupid flutter thing she was getting dangerously used to.
"Morning, dottoressa." His voice was warm, intimate. "Miss me?"
"You were here three days ago." Aria tried for a professional and landed somewhere near amused. "I think I'll survive."
"Ouch. And here I thought you were counting the hours." He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I know I was."
The admission made heat crawl up her neck. "You're impossible."
"I prefer 'charming.'" Dante settled onto the exam table with easy confidence. "But I'll make it impossible if that's the best you've got."
Aria shook her head, fighting a smile as she pulled up his chart on her computer. "How are you feeling? Any irregular heartbeats? Dizziness? Shortness of breath?"
"My heart's been doing this thing where it speeds up every time I think about you. That counts?"
"Dante."
"What? You asked about symptoms. I'm being thorough." His eyes were bright with mischief. "Very thorough. Would you like me to demonstrate? I could think about you right now and you could check my pulse—"
"Shirt off," Aria interrupted, trying not to laugh. "Let's see if your heart agrees with your mouth."
"Is that a euphemism?"
"It's a medical instruction. Stop being difficult."
"Never." But he pulled off his shirt anyway, and Aria had to work very hard to maintain her professional composure.
Because damn. Three weeks of seeing him in various states of undress, and she still wasn't immune to the sight of all that ink covering all that muscle. The portrait of Angelina over his heart caught her attention like always such careful detail, such obvious love.
"You're staring," Dante said quietly.
"I'm observing." Aria moved closer with her stethoscope. "There's a difference."
"If you say so." But his voice had dropped, gone softer. Less playful.
She pressed the stethoscope to his chest, and yeah, his heart was definitely beating faster than it should. "Your rhythm's elevated."
"Told you. I was thinking about you."
"I'm standing right in front of you. That's not thinking, that's looking."
"Fine. I was thinking about Friday night. The rooftop. The way you kissed me like—" He stopped, jaw tightening. "Your rhythm just spiked too. I can feel your pulse against my skin."
Aria pulled back, professional distance shot to hell. "This is a medical exam."
"Is it? Because it feels like something else entirely." Dante's hand came up, fingers brushing her wrist where she still held the stethoscope. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you don't feel this too."
"I feel it." The admission came out quieter than intended. "But that doesn't make it appropriate. You're my patient."
"Then stop being my doctor."
"I can't. You need cardiac monitoring—"
"I need you." The words hung between them, raw and honest. "Not Dr. Salvini. Not the surgeon who saves lives. Just you. Aria."
Her breath caught. "Dante—"
"I know the rules. I know the ethics. I know all the reasons this is complicated." His thumb traced circles on her wrist, gentle and deliberate. "But I don't care anymore. I tried to stay away. I tried to keep this professional. But every time I see you, it gets harder to pretend I don't want more."
"More what?"
"More everything. More time with you. More conversations that have nothing to do with my heart condition. More nights like Friday." His eyes held hers. "More of whatever this is between us that terrifies me and feels inevitable at the same time."
Aria should step back. Should put professional distance between them. Should remember all the reasons this was a terrible idea.
Instead, she set down her stethoscope. "You're making it very difficult to focus on medicine."
"Good. Because I'm tired of pretending that's why I keep coming here." Dante's hand slid up her arm, feather-light. "I could find another cardiologist. Dr. Russo would take over my care in a heartbeat. But I don't want another doctor."
"Why not?"
"Because none of them are you." His voice dropped. "Because when I'm with you, I feel like someone worth saving. Not just my heart. All of me."
The words cracked something open in Aria's chest. She looked at this man dangerous and damaged and somehow gentle when he touched her and made a choice that was probably going to cost her everything.
She kissed him.
Not tentative like their first kiss on the rooftop. Not careful or questioning. Just honest and wanting and damn the consequences.
Dante made a sound low in his throat, his hands coming up to frame her face as he kissed her back with an intensity that stole her breath. His lips were warm and sure, tasting faintly of coffee and something darker she couldn't name.
Aria's hands found his shoulders, feeling the tension coiled there, the barely restrained control that made her wonder what would happen if he let go completely.
"We shouldn't be doing this," she murmured against his mouth, even as her fingers traced the lines of ink on his chest.
"Probably not." Dante's hands slid into her hair, gentle but possessive. "Tell me to stop and I will."
She should. This was her office. Her workplace. Every ethical guideline she'd ever learned was screaming at her to stop.
But when Dante kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the sensitive spot just below her ear, rational thought became impossible.
"Don't stop," she whispered.
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "You sure?"
"No. But I'm doing it anyway." Aria's hands flattened against his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing beneath her palms. "Your rhythm's irregular."
"That's what you do to me." Dante's smile was slow, devastating. "You make everything irregular. My heartbeat. My judgment. My entire carefully controlled life."
"Is that a complaint?"
"It's an observation." He brushed hair back from her face with surprising tenderness. "And maybe a thank you. For making me feel something other than empty for the first time in longer than I can remember."
The words carried weight she didn't fully understand. Pain beneath the surface. History she wanted to know but wasn't sure he'd share.
"Dante—"
A sharp knock on the door made them both freeze.
"Dr. Salvini?" Nurse Bianca's voice came through, professional and pointed. "Your eleven o'clock is here. Should I tell them you're running late?"
Aria stepped back from Dante, reality crashing in. She was at work. In her office. Making out with a patient like a teenager who couldn't control herself.
"Give me five minutes," she called back, voice remarkably steady.
Footsteps retreated. Aria turned to find Dante watching her with an expression that was part amusement, part hunger.
"To be continued?" he asked.
"This was we shouldn't have—" She stopped, took a breath. "I don't know what this was."
"I do." Dante stood, pulling his shirt back on with frustrating slowness. "It was honest. Real. Everything I didn't know I was looking for until I found it." He moved closer, one hand cupping her cheek. "And I'm not sorry. Even if I should be."
"I could lose my job."
"Then I'll find you another one. Or you can just save my life full-time. I promise to keep you busy." His smile was teasing, but his eyes were serious. "I'm not asking you to risk everything for me. Not yet. But I am asking for a chance."
"A chance at what?"
"Whatever this becomes. No more pretending it's just doctor and patient. No more carefully maintained distance." Dante's thumb brushed across her lower lip. "Just us. Figuring out if this thing between us is worth the complications."
Aria knew what her answer should be. Knew what the safe, responsible choice was.
Said it anyway. "Dinner. Tomorrow night. Somewhere we won't be interrupted every five minutes."
"I know a place. Quiet. Private. Perfect for conversations that need to happen." He kissed her forehead, gentle and promising. "I'll pick you up at eight."
"I can meet you there—"
"Let me do this properly. Let me show up at your door and take you somewhere nice and pretend we're just two people on a date instead of..." He trailed off.
"Instead of what?"
"Instead of whatever complicated mess this is actually going to become." Dante's expression turned serious. "Because it will be complicated, Aria. I need you to know that going in. There are things about me, about my past, that—" He stopped, jaw working. "Just know it's going to be complicated. And if you want to back out now, I'll understand."
Aria thought about the video. About her father's warnings. About every red flag she'd been ignoring because Dante made her feel alive in ways she'd forgotten were possible.
"Tomorrow night," she said firmly. "Eight PM. I'll be ready."
"For dinner or for everything that comes after?"
"Both. Neither. I don't know yet." She smiled despite everything. "But I'm willing to find out."
Dante kissed her again, soft and brief and full of promise. Then he was gone, leaving Aria alone with kiss-swollen lips and the lingering warmth of his hands on her skin.
She touched her mouth, still feeling him there. Still tasting coffee and danger and something that felt dangerously close to hope.
Tomorrow night. They'd have dinner. Talk. Maybe he'd tell her whatever secrets he was carrying. Maybe she'd tell him about the video and her doubts.
Or maybe they'd just be two people enjoying each other's company without the weight of everything else pressing down.
Either way, Aria was done pretending she could walk away.
For better or worse, she was in this now.
Even if it destroyed her.