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54. The Wrong Person To Mess With
DANE
The moment she said she wore red… It had struck me, now looking her over, the shape of her body… With her angled jaw, the dimples in her cheeks and her tiny waist. It had been Dahlia. The woman I had danced with that night was Dahlia. I didn’t need any more confirmation. Something about that revelation made my heart leap with satisfaction and happiness.
I had felt a connection with her from day one. The only difference was that Dahlia had been a lot more at ease with herself. Was it because she wore a mask? The Dahlia I knew was more refined and composed…
Unable to control myself, I had kissed her with a hunger that needed to be fulfilled, one that only she could satiate. We were interrupted by her pathetic ex, one I truly wish I didn’t have to see, but then again, what better way to show him that she had moved on than by kissing her publicly?
His face seemed to have lost all colour as he looked at the very woman he
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