Page 100 of King
Chapter 30
Ella
I was shocked to wake up Sunday morning with only a faint headache, given the amount I’d had to drink the night before. I had a vague recollection of stumbling out of the club, flanked by Kim and Camille who had both stopped drinking long before I had. Thank God for Camille’s nursing background, because she’d loaded me up with electrolytes, B-12 vitamins, and a Tylenol chaser before putting me to bed. It had also probably helped that I’d purged some of the alcohol from my system…all over Kim’s front stoop after the rideshare driver dropped us off. It wasn’t my finest moment.
I felt almost normal after a hot shower to steam the residual alcohol from my pores. I didn’t bother with makeup, and after drying my hair, I just plopped it into a messy bun. I pulled on my jeans and an emerald, green shirt, then padded downstairs to the kitchen to find something to absorb the last of the alcohol in my system.
Kim and Camille were seated around the small kitchen table, chatting quietly over toast and coffee. I prepared a couple of pieces of toast for myself and poured a cup of coffee before joining them.
As I ate, I noticed the two of them seemed to be engaged in some kind of silent conversation. My curiosity got the better of me, and I finally asked them what the hell was going on.
“El, honey, King – or Dante, or whatever the hell we’re supposed to call him – he’s here, in Chicago. He wants to talk to you,” Camille started off hesitantly. I stared at her in disbelief, my coffee cup raised halfway to my lips. I carefully set it down, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to swallow anything right now due to the sudden tightness in my throat.
Kim rushed to explain, “Since he couldn’t get through to you, he contacted us. I don’t understand everything, but he claims that there was some kind of threat, and that everything he said to Cowboy was an act to try to keep you safe. I think you should probably listen to your messages.”
I shook my head, and tears sprang to my eyes.
“I don’t want to hear –“
Camille put her hand over mine to stop my protest. “You know that we love you, and we will support you in whatever you decide, but…he sounded sincere, and I hate to think of you hurting for even one second longer if he’s telling the truth about it being an act. He swears he didn’t cheat, and that he didn’t mean anything that he said.”
“When did you talk to him?” I couldn’t help the hurt that bled into my tone at the thought of them going behind my back to speak to the man who had ripped my heart in two.
“We didn’t talk to him. He called us and left messages.” Kim looked a little unsure of herself, which was rare for her. After a few seconds, she handed me her phone, explaining that after a few drinks she’d taken a video and sent it to him in response. She had the text chain pulled up, and I read it through.
I barely remembered telling the DJ about what Dante had said, but I did remember dancing to the song, thinking how perfectly it mirrored the rage and the sense of betrayal I was feeling.
Camille handed over her phone next, and I gasped as I read Dante’s message saying that he loved me. I had no clue why he thought I’d been in danger, but I was stunned at the feelings he was professing. He’d never told me that, ever, and I didn’t really believe it now.
I handed her phone back to her as I shook my head. “He’s only saying that so I’ll keep taking care of Pop, remember?Thisis the act. What I heard was the real Dante-fucking-Morgan.”
Kim sighed and reached for my hand. “At least check the texts and messages he sent you,” she urged quietly. “Then, if you still don’t want to hear him out, Camille and I won’t let him anywhere near you.”
Camille nodded, then nudged my phone toward me. I hadn’t even noticed it on the table next to her. I eyed it for a moment, then reluctantly reached for it and powered it on.
It buzzed and pinged as text and voice mail notifications loaded. I took a deep breath, and then pulled up my text messages first. I avoided the text chain with Dante but read the others. They were all short and simple, asking me to call Dante, or to let them know I’d made it to Chicago. I hesitated, my finger hovering over Dante’s name, then took a deep breath as I pulled up his texts.
I read them through a haze of tears. Most were just asking me to call, but then came a picture of him in bed, sent in the early hours of Saturday morning.
Dante: I miss you, and wish you were lying here next to me. I hope you’re having fun. Goodnight, sugar.
I wiped away a tear, and Kim handed me a box of tissues.
“Do you want us to give you some privacy while you listen to the voicemails?” Camille asked softly. I nodded, unable to speak, and the two of them got up and left the room.
It took a few minutes for me to work up the nerve to press the button to play the first message. I thought I was prepared for the sound of his voice, but I wasn’t, at least not for the hint of panic I could hear. I was so shocked that I had to listen to the message twice before I realized what he’d said.
“Hey, sugar, uh, I’m sending Trick to your office to pick you up and bring you to the clubhouse. Everyone’s OK, but I need you here. We’ve got some shit going on, and some threats have been made. I don’t have a lot of details right now, and I know this fucks up your plans, but I don’t want to take any chances. So, just stay in your office if your meeting ends early. Trick will be there soon. He’ll be driving the club van and will have one of the prospects with him.”
My mind spun as I tried to figure out what kind of threats he was talking about, and then I grew angry again as I reminded myself that this was just Dante trying to cover his ass because I’d heard the truth. Doubts assailed me again though, as I looked at the time stamp on the voice mail.
He’d sent it at least thirty minutesbeforeI’d heard him talking to Cowboy in the kitchen.
I stilled as that fact sank in and confused my muddled brain even more. I reached out a shaky finger and pressed play on the next message, which sounded more like the Dante I was used to, although there was still an edge to his voice that I’d never heard before. He assured me I was safe now that I was in Chicago, and that I didn’t need to worry, then asked me to call and he would explain. I wondered if he had actually known I washere by then, or if he’d just assumed. The next message came in around ten-thirty Friday night.
“Hey, sugar. It sucks that your phone is acting up, because I’d love to hear your voice right about now. Call me if you can.”He sounded so sincere, like the Dante I had fallen in love with. He also sounded tired, and a little lonely.
Then came his final message, and the tears I’d been trying to hold back finally broke free as I heard the sheer desperation in his voice.
