19. Dante

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HAPPY WIFE, HAPPY LIFE


She tasted different.

Different, yet familiar. Smoky and alluring. Elisabeth flashed into my mind, but that couldn't be right. Carla didn't smoke.

I drew away, noticing the dreamy look in her eyes. "Are you alright?"

"I'm freaking great, man."

"Man? Carla, what did you do?"

"Nothing. I don't want to be sad and scared anymore. I want to be free." She did a twirl, stopping with a big grin on her face. "Be free with me. Let's fuck."

Who was this woman? Didn't she just have an anxiety attack this morning?

She shimmied out of her pants and I watched in bewilderment as she threw her blouse across the room. Her eyes sparkled with a newfound sense of liberation as she discarded more of her clothes.

Her beauty captivated me. Her rich, brown skin glowed under the soft light, accentuating her features and lending an air of ethereal allure to her presence. Her voluptuous figure, highlighted by her generous behind was impossible to ignore.

"Carla," I spoke calmly, my voice dangerously low. "What happened? What did you do?"

She smiled and my heart ached at the sight of her happiness.

"Nothing bad," she answered coyly.

I took a step closer, ready to corner her until she told me the truth. Plus, I couldn't concentrate while she jiggled her fat ass around the room. "But it can't be good. Elaborate. Now."

"I just needed to let loose a little. I had a drink, that's all."

My brows furrowed with suspicion. Carla wasn't a heavy drinker, but after the alcohol poisoning, this sudden behavior change was alarming.

"I don't understand."

"What don't you understand? That I had a drink? That I want to forget? Even for a little while."

"Don't take that tone with me. I'm trying to protect you. You landed in the hospital from alcohol poisoning."

"Oh please. Those doctors diagnosed me with alcohol poisoning because they don't know what the fucking poison was that they found in my system."

I clenched my jaw and took a couple of steps forward. The sound of my footfall echoed ominously, underscoring the gravity of the situation. I blocked her path until she came up against the desk, leaving a small distance open between us. "So what if they don't know? Drinking isn't going to solve your problem or tell us which one of your friends tried to fucking kill you."

"Get off my back, will you? You're the reason I can't walk into a restaurant without having heart palpitations."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh my god, I need another drink," she said dramatically.

As I stood there, a mere breath away, I felt the urge to shake some sense into her. "How much did you have to drink?"

"What does it matter?"

The air crackled with tension as I locked eyes with Carla. "Where did you get the drink? Did you bring liquor here from home? Where is it? Show me the bottle."

She shrugged.

"Carla, where did you get the drink from?"

"Fine, I got it from Sergio."

"Sergio's drinking on the job?"

"No, he's not. I asked him to bring it for me?"

"Why?"

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