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Heaven

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Chapter 14: Heaven (Dante's POV)

No clear motive, different murder weapons, and no consistent victim profile. So far, we had nothing. Not a single witness and not a single piece of evidence. All we found tonight was one note tied with a thread on the wrist of Monica Coleman's body. A small card that read, 'My angel from heaven.' 

It confirmed what we already knew; she was portrayed to be a fallen angel from heaven, but whatever the underlying message was, we missed it once again. 

My lighter clinked repeatedly in my hand as I opened and closed it, leaning against the hood of my car, thoughts of this case racing through my mind. I tried racking my brain for every possible theory, every possible suspect, only to come up with nothing. 

Agitated, I brought out a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, resting it between my lips and contemplating whether I should light it or not. I continued to snap the dull golden lighter open and shut between my fingers, dwelling on both the case and the dilemma of smoking that cigarette. 

I was by no means a chain smoker and never had been, but I lit one from time to time to take my mind off of things, to occupy myself. It kept my hands busy and my mouth shut. With one final clink of the lighter, as I snapped it shut, a pair of Louboutins came into view, and upon lifting my gaze, I found Anastasia standing before me. 

Her eyes held mine for a beat before drifting down to the cigarette held between my lips. She nodded at me, "You're already halfway there. Why not just light it?" 

A wave of annoyance washed over me as I stared at her. "What's wrong, Ms Vitalio? Does it bother you?" I asked dryly, pushing off the car and taking a step closer to her. 

"It never bothered me then," she said quietly, taking a step forward and then another, slowly closing in on me and erasing the distance between us. "Why would it bother me now?" Glancing at the lighter between my hands before looking into my eyes again, she swiped it out of my palm and snapped it open, lighting the flame, and bringing it to my lips, just a whisper away from the butt of the cigarette. 

Pocketing my hands, I lifted a brow at her and tilted my head slightly. 

Raising her brows at me, almost as if she was inviting me to a challenge, she took one final step closer to me. My body brushed against hers, and she brought the flame to the butt, igniting it. "I may never understand why you do it or why you can't quit it," she added, "but I couldn't care less, Mr Rossi. Best case scenario, you choke on it." 

A smirk tugged at my lips as she dropped the lighter in my palm and moved to stand beside me, folding her arms across her chest. "It's not an addiction," I told her, "simply a habit." 

"You couldn't quit if you tried," she scoffed softly. "It doesn't take long to grow addicted to our habits." 

I let out a breath, a cloud of smoke surrounding the air as I stepped forward and stood in front of her instead. 

She eyed me with doubt and shuffled back as I moved closer, keeping the cigarette between my fingers as I leaned forward, bracing my arms on the hood of the car until her back met the edge. 

"You don't think I can quit?" I questioned. 

She shook her head, staring back at me. "Not a chance." 

I took in a small breath as my gaze traveled across her features, relearning each of them. It was almost as if I was testing my memory, counting how many of her little beauty marks I remembered. The one just above her lip on the right, the one just beneath the corner of her eye on the left, and another one on her left cheek. 

"As long as I have something to keep me occupied," I paused, glancing at her lips, "something to... keep my hands and my mouth busy..." 

Anastasia inhaled shakily, her chest rising and falling against my own. "Hmm...Something to shut you up?" she asked knowingly. 

"Precisely," I replied. It was the only reason I stopped smoking a year ago. Because I had Anastasia to keep my hands and mouth occupied. The need to feel the nicotine and smoke burning through my lungs had died out each day I spent with her, and while I was with her, I never felt it again. 

Whether you called it a habit or an addiction, Anastasia grew to be the only thing I knew. She was one of the few things I was sure of, no matter what the circumstances were. But it couldn't have lasted, and I wished I had known that before going into it. 

Silence passed between us as we stared at one another, both of us refusing to cower down and break away first. With each moment that passed, the air between us grew more charged with something unrecognizable, something that couldn't be named, but it certainly felt familiar. Dangerously familiar. 

I couldn't help the way my eyes were drawn down to her lips, traveling further along the slope of her neck, down her chest. 

Fuck, she looked irresistible tonight. 

As I blinked, I felt her hand reach out until she tucked a finger beneath my chin, tilting my head up. "My eyes are up here," she scoffed, withdrawing her hand. 

"I wasn't looking at them," I mumbled, straightening up and taking a step away from her, having another drag. I felt her eyes on me as I stood beside her, staring ahead at the scene. 

"You really have no shame," she bit out, folding her arms across her chest defensively. 

I put the cigarette to my lips one final time before putting it out beneath my shoe. "Get in the car," I told her, "I'll take you home." 

She stood still, watching the remaining officers as they wrapped up and restricted the scene, taping it off. 

"Ms Vitalio." 

She rolled her eyes before looking at me, purely annoyed with my presence alone. 

I lifted a brow. "Get in the car," I repeated. I brushed past her and opened her door, waiting until she buckled up to close it, and then got in my seat, starting the drive home. 

Amidst New York's infamous traffic, even during the late hours, the drive from Park Avenue to Wall Street would have taken us at least twenty-five minutes, but within the first five, we came to a halt at a red light, and I realized we could be stuck here longer than either one of us anticipated or desired. 

I glanced at her as she leaned back in her seat and let out a small sigh, staring out the window. It was as if I was utterly helpless when it came to her as if I had no control over anything. I couldn't resist the way my eyes traveled down the length of her dress yet again for the billionth time that night. It was hard to keep my eyes off of her even when we weren't together in that room, and it took everything to remind myself that I was fucking working. 

When she turned to me, she had certainly caught me staring and off guard; all I could do was look away while my grip tightened on the wheel. There was something distinct about Anastasia that seemed to have a hold on me. 

Perhaps the memories were so deeply engraved and embellished in my mind and skin that I couldn't let them go. I remembered everything, every moment I'd ever spent with her. Every inch of her I had touched, every part of her I had kissed, every time I'd fucked her. 

The tension kept building throughout the entire drive, growing more palpable with each second that passed. I certainly wasn't the only one feeling it because when we were merely ten minutes away, she finally broke the silence. 

"Pull over," she said, letting out a shaky breath. "I can walk from here." 

I glanced at her. "In those heels and that dress, you're not walking anywhere, Ms Vitalio." 

"I can decide that for myself. I want to get some air." 

"So do I," I said, adamant. "We can do that right here." Reaching forward, with a click of a button, the sunroof let up and retracted back, the convertible finally coming in handy for once in this chaotic city. 

I could feel her eyes on me, and the look of pure disbelief on her face when I finally looked at her was one I wanted to capture forever. A huff of annoyance escaped her as she tucked her hair behind her ears, keeping it from blowing in the wind, and then folded her arms, sitting in the same rigid position until I stopped at her building. 

Getting out, I rounded off to her side and held the door open. 

Her gaze was ice cold as she stepped out and slammed the door shut. "You're so incredibly difficult," she told me with a light push as she brushed past me. 

My tongue prodded at my cheek as I exhaled and reached for her arm, pulling her back and pinning her in place, bracing my hands on the roof of the car. "You've made it awfully evident that you don't want to work with me any more than I want to work with you," I began, shifting to block her way as she tried to escape me. 

"Get off of me," she said sternly, trying one more time. 

I let out a soft sigh as I drove my hips into hers, pinning her body down with my own. "For once in your life, could you shut up and listen to me? Hmm?" I asked, staring down at her. 

Her jaw clenched and ticked as she folded her arms in annoyance, impatiently tapping her fingers against her arm. "What?" she ground out. 

"You're frustrated," I pointed out. "The days keep passing, and we're still sitting here empty-handed. Believe me, Ms Vitalio, if there's anyone who understands you at this moment, it's me." 

Rolling her eyes, she turned her head to look the other way, avoiding my eyes. 

I leaned forward, blocking her view until all she could see was me. It was nearly impossible to miss the way her breath hitched because I practically felt it myself, my own breath stuttering in my throat. "Am I the one being difficult?" I asked. 

"Yes," she snapped back. 

"Really? Are you sure?" 

She scoffed lightly, "I am two seconds away from punching you, Mr Rossi. I'd suggest you let go of me." 

"I dare you to try," I mused, watching her with emotions I hadn't felt in a year and the ghost of a smirk tugging at my lips that only seemed to present itself around her. Seeing her all riled up told me what I needed to know. I still affected her. 

"And if I do?" she threatened, lifting her brows at me. "What are you going to do? Are you going to punish me?" She pushed off the car and stepped into me, leaving no distance between us. Body to body, we stood flush together. 

God, I'd fuck that attitude right out of her if she'd let me it. If I could... but I couldn't, goddamn it. It wasn't an option. 

I leaned forward, and she inhaled sharply, falling back on the car as her eyes dropped to my lips. Her chest rose and fell with heavy, uneven breaths. Bracing a hand on my abdomen, she slowly pushed me away. "We're not playing this game again," she said softly. 

"Does this feel like a game to you?" I questioned, my eyes scanning her face. 

"No," she answered after thinking for a beat. "Perhaps you've forgotten, but I remember it clearly, Mr Rossi. You're the one who played me the first time around. I'm not a fool to let it happen again." 

My head fell forward as I let out a breath. "Anastasia—" 

"This is work," she cut me off, "and that's all it's allowed to be." Stepping aside, she started toward the doors. 

I made one last attempt, taking her hand. "Will you at least listen—" 

Without so much as a glance, she threw my hand off and stalked ahead, disappearing into the building. 

A groan crawled up my throat as I spun around and leaned against the door, throwing my head back. 

Anastasia was such an enigma to me, such a riddle that I had to read into. She was my heaven and my hell, and I knew that she would be the death of me.

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Chapter 14

I'm backkk

I took a little break after coming back home but be prepared for consistent updates again

next ch: girls