Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Standing with the mop in my hand, I read the text Dario sent me a minute ago.

Can you take time off work to accompany me to the opening night?

I don’t have anything fancy enough to wear to a ballet show, and people will recognize me.

Which means I have to tell Dario that I’m a janitor. After the amazing Sunday night we spent together, I don’t think he’ll fire me or break things off.

And I can scrounge up a few dollars to get a dress at a thrift store.

The corner of my mouth lifts as I type out a reply.

I’d love to. Can we meet up tomorrow morning? I need to tell you something.

I see he reads my message, then it shows he’s typing.

Dario: 9 am at Half n Half?

Eden: Okay.

Suddenly, someone grabs hold of my shoulder and yanks me until I turn around.

“Where is it?” one of the ballerinas barks in my face.

“Where’s what?”

“Don’t play dumb. Where’s my ring?”

The hell?

“Vivian, what’s going on here,” Mrs. Stafford asks as she comes down the hallway.

There’s a sinking sensation in my stomach when I realize Vivian thinks I took her ring.

“The janitor stole my wedding ring,” Vivian says, her voice trembling as she tries to fight back the tears.

“Let’s go to my office,” Mrs. Stafford orders. “The middle of the hallway is not the place for this discussion.”

“But–” I start to argue, but Mrs. Stafford silences me with a stern look.

With a sigh, I place the mop back in my cart before I follow the women to the office. By the time Mrs. Stafford takes as seat behind her desk, anger is bubbling in my chest.

“I didn’t take anything,” I say, my voice tense.

“Pheobe said she saw the janitor in our dressing rooms during rehearsal,” Vivian cries, visibly getting more and more upset with every passing second. “I left my wedding ring on the counter in my section.”

Mrs. Stafford turns her attention to me, then asks, “Did you take it by accident? If you return the ring, we’ll forget the whole unpleasant incident.”

My temper flares, but I suck in a breath of air so I don’t lose my cool. “I didn’t take her ring.”

Mrs. Stafford rises to her feet and comes to stand in front of me. The next moment, she shoves her hand into my apron’s pocket and starts to search me.

I’m so offended my lips part with a gasp, and before I can stop myself, I smack her hand away from me. “Don’t touch me!”

“See!” Vivian yells. “She’s hiding something, or she would be fine with being searched.”

“I didn’t take your goddamn ring,” I shout back at her.

Vivian’s palm connects with my cheek, and I stagger a step backward from the shock of being slapped.

Oh, no, she didn’t.

Just as I’m about to lunge at the ballerina so I can pull every last strand out of her neat bun, Dario’s voice lashes through the air.

“What’s going on here?”

“She stole my wedding ring,” Vivian sobs before breaking down in a fit of tears.

Jesus, now’s a good time to beam me up.

With my hand covering my stinging cheek, I stand frozen on the spot.

“I’m so sorry you had to walk in on such an unpleasant situation,” Mrs. Stafford apologizes to Dario.

I feel him move closer to me and pinch my eyes shut.

God. God. God.

“Are you okay?” I hear him ask, and it makes my throat tighten with unshed tears because I’m still angry as hell, and now I’m embarrassed as well. I wish the ground would open beneath my feet.

This is not how I wanted him to find out.

Spinning around, I try to make a quick escape out of the office, which has Vivian screeching, “Stop her. She’s trying to run away.”

In the doorway, I bump into another ballerina and almost land on my ass as I fall against the doorjamb.

“Sorry,” the ballerina says in a soft, sweet voice. “I just came to say I found the ring. It was in the restroom on the counter by the sinks.”

I begin to slip past her, giving her a shaky smile, but I’m grabbed by my arm by Dario.

“Give me the ring, Izzy,” he orders. When she places it in his palm, he says, “Go back to rehearsal.”

I’m pulled into the office again, and feeling like I might burst out in tears like Vivian did, I clench my jaw tightly because I’m not some fragile ballerina.

Dario hands the ring to Vivian, then says, “You owe her an apology.”

The fuck?

Before I can stop myself, my head snaps up, and I practically spit the words out. “I’m not apologizing for shit.”

Dario’s eyes latch onto my face, and as I watch recognition register on his face, followed shortly by absolute shock, my entire world tips on its axis.

I’m surprised when his tone is calm and steady when he says, “Vivian, apologize to Eden.”

“I’m sorry,” Vivian mutters.

His eyes narrow on my face, and then his features darken as if a storm is building, and I just know in my bones he’s going to fire me.

It takes all my strength not to cry as a crack splinters down the middle of my heart. My voice is hoarse as I give him a pleading look. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you tomorrow morning.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” he snaps before his eyes flick to Mrs. Stafford. “Is this how you handle the staff?”

Mrs. Stafford instantly looks subdued as she says, “What was I to do? It was Vivian’s word against the janitor’s.”

Dario lets go of my arm and moves slightly in front of me, his bicep brushing against my cap.

“Would you have dealt differently with the problem if you knew Eden’s my girlfriend?”

I almost choke on a random drop of spit while Mrs. Stafford and Vivian gasp collectively.

“She’s what?” Mrs. Stafford asks.

“Eden is my girlfriend,” he repeats the words.

I watch as the women’s attitudes shift, and where they were ready to tear me apart a moment ago, they give me apologetic looks.

Because of Dario.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Taylor. I wasn’t aware of your relationship with Mr. La Rosa.”

“Miss?” I let out a burst of incredulous laughter.

“I didn’t mean to slap you,” Vivian says.

Lifting my chin, I ask, “Can I go, Mrs. Stafford?”

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything,” she says, her tone completely different from how she usually speaks to me.

Turning around, I walk out of the office. I go back to my cart, and determined to keep working until Dario tells me I’m fired, I grab the mop.

“We need to talk,” Dario says behind me.

“I’m working,” I mutter.

“Eden!”

I spin around. “I was going to tell you tomorrow.”

“That you’re a janitor?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

I give him an incredulous look. “Would you have still fucked me if you knew I worked for you?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. “Don’t reduce our relationship to a simple fuck.”

I suck in a shaky breath and try to regain control of my emotions, that are all over the place.

Dario takes hold of my hand and pulls me into the nearest studio. He shuts the door behind us, then turns to face me.

I lift my eyes to his face, and suddenly, it’s getting harder and harder not to burst out in tears.

I do the only thing I can and say, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want you to look at me and see a janitor. I wanted you to get to know me for who I am and not what I do, and…and.” I swallow hard on the lump in my throat. “I was scared you’d fire me once you found out.”

“I wouldn’t have fired you,” he murmurs softly.

“I know that now. That’s why I was going to tell you tomorrow.”

I rip off the stupid cap and wipe my palm over my hair.

The past hour hits me like a ton of bricks in the chest, and feeling smaller than a snail, I lower my head and stare at the scuff marks on my boots.

“It’s unfair,” I whisper.

“What?”

“They treated me like shit until they found out about our relationship. Mrs. Stafford has never been so nice to me.”

I shake my head as my anger spikes again. A condescending chuckle escapes me as I lift my head to meet Dario’s eyes.

“I was nothing in their eyes, then you come along, and with one sentence, their attitudes toward me change.”

“I’m sorry, Tesoro. I’ll deal with them.”

What will everyone think of Dario? They’ll laugh behind his back. The filthy rich guy and the poor as fuck janitor.

My heart hurts thinking Dario’s reputation will suffer because of me.

Protecting him the only way I know how, I say, “It won’t matter what you say to them or what you do. We come from different worlds, and everyone can see it. You live in a palace, and I can barely make rent. You eat at extravagant restaurants, and I…” I choke up and have to breathe through the chaotic emotions before I can continue, “It will never work between us.”

“It can, and it will,” Dario argues.

He steps closer to me, and placing his palm against the cheek Vivian slapped, he leans down to press a kiss to my mouth.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath of his scent.

I hope you find a woman worthy of being by your side and that she’ll make you happier than I can.

When he lifts his head, I keep my eyes shut as the words spill from me, “It’s too hard. I’m ending things now before one of us gets hurt.”

“The fuck you are,” he growls.

Opening my eyes, I look deep into his. It takes more strength than I have to ask, “You’re not firing me, right?”

His eyebrows draw together, and he looks so angry I almost take a step backward but fight to stand my ground.

“I’m not firing you.”

“Thank you.”

I walk to the door and yank it open.

His tone is filled with determination as he snaps, “I’m not letting you end things between us.”

When I step into the hallway, I hear him come after me, and a moment later, his fingers wrap around my arm, and I’m spun around to face him.

“Admit it. You want me as much as I want you. It doesn’t fucking matter where we come from or who we are. All that matters is how we feel about each other.”

I shake my head and lie through my teeth, “No. All I want is for things to go back to how they were before we met.”

I can see my words are hurting Dario, and it makes it impossible for me to hold the tears in.

As they roll over my cheeks, I whisper, “You’re an amazing man, Dario. I’ll always treasure our time together.”

“Stop!” he snaps, then he yanks me against his chest.

Before I can push away from him, his arms lock around me, keeping me imprisoned in his hold.

His irises turn black, and with a dangerous expression tightening his features, he says, “You are mine. I will never let you go.”

I try to push against his chest, which only makes him tighten his hold on me. When it borders on painful, I whisper, “You’re hurting me.”

Instantly, Dario lets go of me, and as worry blends with the anger on his face, I say, “I’m okay. You just held me too tight.”

He shoves his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Tesoro.”

I give him a pleading look. “I need to get back to work.”

He nods, then says, “When I’m done with the rehearsals, I’ll come to find you so we can talk without people accidentally hearing us.”

Nodding, I walk back toward my cart, and grabbing the mop, I fight the urge to glance over my shoulder.

All I want to do is run into Dario’s arms, but instead, I focus on cleaning the floor.