“I was,” I say softly, and his hands reach out to cup my cheeks, lifting my face to look him in the eye. My breath hitches, and I see his Adam's apple bob in his throat. He nods as his eyes roam over my face. I can tell he is waiting for more information, like he knows I am hiding something.

“I will be back in five minutes. Get into bed,” he says abruptly, clearly unimpressed that I am not offering him any more information. Stepping back from me, he walks out the door, closing it behind him.

I put the towel back into the bathroom and pull my hair up into a top knot, the damp heat just making it a hot mess of waves. I feel better after my bath and sit on the edge of the bed for a moment, trying to balance my body temperature, just as he comes back into the bedroom.

His arms are full of blankets. One smaller white one, which looks soft and dreamy, like velour, although it’s probably a hundred times more expensive. And the other is a large gray mohair, big enough to wrap me up twice over.

“Get into bed,” he commands.

“Will you join me?” I ask, holding my breath, hoping that he will get in beside me and hold me for a while.

“Not tonight, Bella.” I try to hide my disappointment. “Get in, and I will put the blanket on top.”

“Yes, Dante,” I oblige, too tired to talk, liking the feeling of him taking care of me in this way. I get into his bed, and he places the small white rug around my shoulders, then drapes the larger blanket over my body twice.

“Sleep.” he says, his fingers smoothing a few flyaways off my face as I get comfortable. His eyes search mine, still seemingly trying to work out what is wrong. I’m too afraid to look him in the eye as mine grow heavy.

“Dante,” I whisper. “Thank you.” I see him swallow roughly, giving me a small nod in acceptance as his eyes drink me in with wonder. Then I rest my head and close my eyes, but not before I see him take his nightly position in the armchair to watch me as I sleep.

20

Dante