Enter Dante Novak.
I hadn’t told Everly that roommate number two had called back. I figured she would realize that soon enough. I also hadn’t told her that I’d done some digging on Dante while the others had mingled at the party. A few database searches on my smartphone had given me more details than I’d expected.
Dante Novak had been born on Leap Day, 1992. Twenty-seven years old, in the foster care system from the time he was twelve. No details on either parent. Started out working at McDonald’s at the age of sixteen, stayed there until he was twenty, kicked fast food and moved into the restaurant business, where he’d been for the past seven years, moving up in the ranks, now an assistant manager of some fancy steakhouse downtown. He owned a three-bedroom house—the one he shared with Everly and Heaven—for going on four years now. He didn’t have a criminal record, not so much as a speeding ticket. Which was a wonder considering he owned a brand-new Camaro, though there was no record of him ever buying one.
Based on my search, he didn’t do a lot on social media, aside from post pictures when he spent time out with Everly, and never did he even mention his affiliation with the BDSM club known as Inferno, a place he’d apparently been a member of for the past three years.
As for Heaven Whitley, Dante didn’t appear to be close to her in any way. In fact, I couldn’t tie the two of them together at all, except that they slept under the same roof, which was why I’d done a little digging on the brunette who’d been far too eager to disappear after learning Everly would be fine. Aside from a couple of speeding tickets when she was younger, Heaven’s record was also squeaky clean. She worked full-time at a chain bookstore while taking night classes to obtain her bachelor’s degree in art and literature of all things. She had a long-term boyfriend, Danny Spielburg, who looked like an uptight douchebag based on their social media pictures. If her Instagram account was anything to go by, those two had been riding the breakup train for a while now.
“Did Dante call back?” Everly asked after a few minutes of silence.
I peered over my shoulder. “Yeah. He’s meeting us at your house.”
While I hadn’t intended to keep it a secret from her, there had been something in Dante’s reaction to what had happened that concerned me. But it was his voice, the sound of it, the distinct submission in his tone that had intrigued me. Everly hadn’t explained her relationship with Dante, but I got the feeling it was somewhat complicated in nature. Especially if he was as submissive as I believed him to be.
I was nothing if not astute.
“When we get there, I want you to pack a bag,” Isaac instructed. “Grab whatever you might need for a few days.”
Looked as though we were definitely doing this.
“Yes, Sir.”
I liked that she didn’t feel the need to argue. Perhaps that was because of the incident from earlier, her need for protection, but I didn’t think that was entirely the case.
When Isaac parked the Escalade in front of the small redbrick house, I climbed out, glanced around the neighborhood. The street was quiet, older. The mature trees filled the manicured yards, hung over the sidewalk, made it feel homey. It was well-kept, a nice area with probably minimal crime. That made me feel marginally better.
Well, except for the fact some asshole had broken into this very house and attacked a female he clearly didn’t know.
My eyes shifted to the white Camaro parked on the street. It had leaves scattered over the top and hood that told me it hadn’t been moved in a while. If ever.
As I waited for Isaac and Everly to grab her things from inside, I stood on the porch. It wasn’t long before a four-door older-model Camry pulled up behind the Camaro on the street.
So, he drove a beat-up piece of shit that needed a new passenger door at best, four new tires at worst, instead of the brand-new sports car. Interesting.
The man who stepped out wasn’t at all what I’d expected. His pictures had mostly been selfies with Everly, which hadn’t done this man justice whatsoever. He was tall and thin, rangy was a good way to describe him. Also ridiculously attractive with his shaggy blond hair, squared jaw, and lean features. He moved with purpose, not swagger. He wasn’t a showoff and he carried himself well.
If appearances were all I based my sexual encounters on, I would’ve been all over the man in a heartbeat.
When his eyes lifted to mine as I stood over him on the porch, I saw what I’d suspected just from hearing his voice. A glint of submission, along with a healthy dose of ambivalence in his midnight-blue eyes.
