Isla
Dante wasn't home.
I hated giving in to my imagination about his whereabouts. All this pent-up anger inside me was eating me dry. I tried to think of a more practical reason why he would keep such things to me. The night had finally clouded the key, but he hadn't returned home yet.
There was a thin line between worry and anger. I didn't know which should come first after seeing that I had been waiting for him throughout the fucking day. I wandered through the hallways so I could check for even a hint of his shadow, which was as dark as his heart. My steps approached his study and the struggle just became stronger. My heart beat against my rib cage as my cheeks only got hotter by the fucking second.
Several questions sift through my head. What if it's Rafael? What if a petty thief had passed through the security outside and was looking for something valuable? Holy fuck? I reached for my phone and dialed Dante's number. His security burner phone for a quick reply.
