Dante took amazing care of me. He washed and conditioned my hair, massaging my scalp as he did so. He washed my back but told me that I needed to wash the rest of my body. “I’m holding on by a thread, cara mia. I can’t touch you any more than this,” he groans into my ear. I hide my smirk, but move away from him to wash myself. And then he pulls me against him, whispering in my ear, “Rilassati, cara mia. Sono qui per te. (Relax, my dear. I’ve got you.)” I lay back and close my eyes while Dante’s fingers move up and down on my arms. But everything that happened is still bugging me. Quietly, I ask, “Why is this happening? Who is after me and what do they want?” Dante settles his cheek on the top of my head. “I don’t know, cara. It’s all just been verbal threats up until now. I don’t think that they were actually trying to kill you, but they were definitely trying to scare you. I just can’t figure out if this is someone after your family, my father, or me.” I tense
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