Dante's Possession

HAZEL

“Sorry, miss, but you can’t be seen dancing with this guy,” a security guard informs me. I glance at the brown-eyed boy who looks taken aback.

“Are you taken?” Brown Eyes asks me. I shrug. “Nope. I’m single.”

“So, what’s the issue?” He flicks his gaze from me to the security guard, who’s now pressing his headset against his ear.

“Strict orders. Either you back off, or I’ll have to kick you out,” he warns. I look at Brown Eyes, speechless.

Without a word, he walks away. “Maybe some other time, okay?”

“Yeah, definitely,” I call after him, standing on my tiptoes to see over the security guard’s shoulder.

I toss my hair out of my face, looking up at him. “No thanks to you.”

I spin on my heel and head back to the bar, feeling a bit miffed. The security guard follows me, and I take a seat on a stool, swiveling around to face him.

“Mind filling me in? Who’s this mystery man?” I squint at him, and he gives me a small smile.

“Can’t say, miss.” He stands there, as immovable as a statue, and I turn around when I hear the bartender slide another drink my way.

“Who’s this from?” I ask the bartender, who just shrugs.

“Don’t know, miss.”

“Are you spiking these? Why didn’t I think of that before!” Panic flares up in me like a firework.

“I promise it’s safe. We have a policy here to keep women safe. Don’t worry.” The bartender gives me a reassuring smile, and I eye the drink warily.

I stand up, turning around to shout, “You could at least leave a note or something!”

I plop back down onto the stool, only to fall off because it’s so high. The security guard catches me and helps me up.

“I’ve been ordered to take you home, miss.” He steadies me as I sway. I think I need to use the restroom, but I can barely walk.

“I’m not doing what Mr. Unknown wants,” I insist, stomping my foot. The security guard looks at me, clearly annoyed.

He grabs my arm and pulls me toward the exit. I resist, feeling humiliated. I know I’ll regret this in the morning.

I stretch, arms above my head, and smack my hand on something. Looking up, I see a leather headboard.

I don’t have one of those in my room. I sit up quickly, scanning the room. Where am I? I think I blacked out.

“Good morning, miss.” My eyes snap to the security guard.

Feeling groggy, I roll my eyes and flop back onto the bed. My hair is a mess, and Mr. Security Guard is in the room with me. He’s been watching me sleep all night!

“Are you going to tell me who this mystery person is yet?” I ask, staring at the ceiling.

“No, miss.” His voice is flat, and I growl in frustration.

“How am I supposed to thank them and pay them back?”

“You don’t.”

“Fine!”

I get up and storm to the door, yanking it open. I step through and let it slam behind me. The security guard opens it again and follows me as I dash down the carpeted hallway.

I stumble down the stairs, looking and feeling like a wreck, and find myself in a hotel lobby. Oh my god! I look like a disaster.

I duck my head and push through the revolving doors, stepping onto the sidewalk. I don’t look back as I start walking.

He keeps following me, and I flip him off, but he doesn’t get the hint. Stupid security guard.

I turn a corner and run into another man. “No, you need to go to your friend Chloe’s now. He said you’ll be safe there.”

He picks me up by the back of my shirt like a kid, and walks me over to a black car. I hear a small rip as he opens the door and tosses me inside. I land on my hands and knees.

I turn to see a driver wearing sunglasses.

The security guard hops into the passenger seat, and I hear the child locks click. The driver speeds off, then slams on the brakes.

I tumble off the seat, landing in the footwell. The security guard looks over his shoulder and grins at me.

“Fuck you,” I snap. I decide to wait until we get to Chloe’s.

When we arrive, I climb out of the car and squint against the sunlight. Why does it have to be so bright today? It’s hurting my eyes! I do the walk of shame to the door, sighing.

The ridiculous men wave at me until I’m inside. How dare they make a spectacle of me.

I put the kettle on and lean against the counter, waiting until I hear footsteps and roll my eyes.

“Just leave me alone. I’m not in the mood for your games.” I turn around to see Dante entering the kitchen shirtless and in sweatpants.

My cheeks flush, my pulse quickens, and my breath catches.

“I’m just getting breakfast after my workout. Where have you been? You look like you’ve been through the wringer.” He raises an eyebrow, and I shrug, turning away.

I can feel him behind me. He has this creepy, dominant vibe.

“Who dropped you off this morning?” he asks, and I shrug again.

“I’m just a friend,” I fib, and he doesn’t press further, which catches me off guard.

I fix myself a drink and head to the living room, sinking into the couch. I pick up my book from the coffee table. I’m not in the mood for a chat with him or a shower right now. All I want is to wallow in self-pity.

Given the state of my life, I think it’s a fair reaction. I despise myself. I despise my dad for walking out. I despise my mom for succumbing to addiction.

I despise her friends for their cruel treatment of me, and I despise Dante for pushing my buttons every single day. I’m just so done with it all! A couple of hours later, I find myself back in the kitchen. I switch on the kettle and wait.

With my eyes shut, I toy with the idea of penning a book. I could educate people about toxic individuals and how to spot them. That might just be a project worth pursuing.