Chapter 37 #2
“Fair point.” Dante’s expression grows thoughtful. “But that wasn’t random violence, was it? That was calculated desperation. A man making the only play he could see to change his circumstances.”
I want to argue, but I can’t. Because Dante’s right.
I strongly suspect that Ginni didn’t stab that policeman in a fit of rage or in an episode of heightened delusion.
He planned it, chose his target carefully, made sure he’d be arrested rather than shot.
It was the act of someone who saw no other options and decided to create one.
“Which means he’s probably not randomly attacking people in prison,” Dante continues. “He’s more likely to be calculating his survival, figuring out the social dynamics, looking for angles.”
“Or he’s terrified out of his mind and about to do something monumentally stupid.”
“Maybe. But I think you’re underestimating him.”
I sigh heavily. “Perhaps. But you’ve seen him. He is beautiful. He looks small and delicate, and he’s locked up with men who aren’t exactly gentlemen. All the brains in the world can’t defeat brawn, in a small enclosed space.”
Dante’s expression shifts. Something that might be pity fills his dark eyes, and seeing that, makes me wince. Part of me was hoping he’d dismiss my fears, tell me I was jumping to conclusions.
The fact that Dante agrees with me, the man who excels at reading situations, is turning my blood to ice.
Dante pulls out his phone, scrolling through contacts. “Let me make another call. See if my guy has heard anything about a pretty Italian boy in trouble.”
While he goes through his contacts, I try to convince myself that his first assertion was right.
That Ginni’s strength will carry him through this.
That the same intelligence that helped him plan my kidnapping down to the smallest detail will help him navigate prison politics until I can get him out.
But all I can think about is how he looked that night at Christmas. Beautiful and delicate. My best friend’s little brother. All wide eyes and short skirt.
“He’s young,” I say quietly. “Twenty-one. Sometimes I wonder if I’m...” I trail off, not sure how to voice my doubts without sounding like I’m fishing for reassurance.
“If you’re what?”
“A creep. For wanting someone so much younger than me.”
Dante shrugs with the casual indifference of a man who’s seen every possible variation of human depravity and found most of it boring.
“He’s an adult. He chose you. And you’re right, he’s very pretty, like a little china doll. I can see why he caught your attention.”
The last comment hits like a punch to the gut. Something possessive and violent ignites in my soul, and I find myself halfway to my feet before I catch myself.
“Careful,” I growl.
Dante’s eyes narrow immediately, and for a moment the temperature in the room drops ten degrees.
I remember, suddenly and vividly, exactly who I’m talking to.
This isn’t just my friend Dante who helps with difficult problems. This is the man who can extract any secret from any person given enough time and the right tools.
The man who could probably kill me with his bare hands if he decided I was a threat.
The silence stretches between us, heavy with the promise of violence. Dante’s posture hasn’t changed, but something in his stillness reminds me that predators are often most dangerous when they appear calm.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, sinking back into my chair. “I didn’t mean to...”
“Yes, you did.” But Dante’s sharp look has lost its edge, returning to something closer to amusement. “Possessive bastard, aren’t you?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The truth is, the thought of anyone else even looking at Ginni the way Dante just described him makes me want to commit violence. The idea that he’s trapped in prison with men who might see him as prey, who might hurt him...
“Relax,” Dante continues, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not interested in your boy.”
The casual dismissal should be reassuring, but it isn’t. Because if Dante, who’s seen everything and has no reason to lie, thinks Ginni is pretty enough to comment on, then every man in that prison is thinking the same thing.
“You two are good together. I saw that at Christmas. You were stupid not to have realized it sooner.”
The simple statement hits hard. Because he’s right. I was stupid. unbelievably, devastatingly stupid to waste so much time denying what was right in front of me.
I hang my head and pull at my hair, frustration and regret warring for dominance in my chest. “I know.”
“But you realize it now.”
“Too late.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Dante leans forward. “Are you willing to do this?”
“Absolutely.”
“Despite everything that could go wrong? And even if the rescue goes right, everyone is going to know Carlo Benedetti is gay and in love with a pretty little femboy he stole from the Torrini family. Are you ready for that?”
The questions should give me pause. Should make me consider what I’m risking, what I might lose. My business, my reputation, my freedom if we get caught. The life I’ve carefully constructed over years of hard work and careful planning.
But instead, all I can think about is Ginni’s face the last time I saw him. The way his eyes lit up when I said I wanted to kiss him. The way he melted into my arms like he’d finally found home.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
“Good.” Dante nods once, sharp and decisive. “Then we’ll get him out. Friday morning, when they transport him to court. Clean intercept, minimal violence if we do it right. But violence is always an option if we need it.”
The casualness with which he discusses potentially deadly chaos is both reassuring and terrifying. This is why I need Dante. Not just for his technical skills, but for his complete lack of moral squeamishness when it comes to protecting the people in his circle.
I close my eyes and try not to think about what might be happening to Ginni right now. Try not to imagine hands that shouldn’t touch him, voices speaking to him with disrespect, violence that he’s not equipped to handle.
Four days feels like a lifetime.
But Dante’s right about one thing. If anyone can survive four days in hell and come out the other side, it’s my beautiful, stubborn, completely unbreakable little menace.
I just have to have faith that love is enough to carry him through until I can get him out.
And if anyone has hurt him by the time I reach him, I’ll make sure they regret it for whatever’s left of their lives.