Chapter Thirty Nine: Dante
DANTE

Pam wore a scarlet dress that hugged her figure at the upper parts of her body, cinching at her waist, and cupping the fullness of her breasts, but splaying outwards at her lower body in a mild manner, like an overturned tulip. It was a fiery dress on a fiery woman and it made Dante think of the finest red wine he had ever had: syrah, with a lasting aftertaste that did not allow you forget it easily. She was beautiful. Every time, she was beautiful. He was sure she would leave one hell of an aftertaste; it made him cautious.

'Where is Natasha?'

She shrugged. 'Making toasts in honour of a certain someone. Do you know where I can find this someone?'

'I have no idea. I am just trying to savor this wine.' He raised the bottle to show her and it brought a smirk to her lips.

'Rose wine? Hampton Waters? I never took you for a light drinker.'

He cocked his head at her. 'Oh,' he said, 'And why is that?'

'Because,' She intoned, as she made her descent down the stairs. The word was stretc
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