Chapter 5 #3
“He’s my child. I’ll never do anything to hurt him. That includes taking him away from his mother.” He backs me up to the sink, crowding me. “But I understand why you’d react like that.”
He understands? Of all the lies he told me, this one may be the worst. “You don’t understand anything.”
He stops short of me, his manner infuriatingly gentle. “I understand better than you think.”
That he can be so calm when I’m falling apart in every way that matters only angers me more.
“You have no idea.” Years of resentment pushes to the surface, causing a lump to lodge in my throat and forcing me to swallow before I can speak again.
“Where were you when I walked the streets, homeless, and my water broke? Tell me, Dante.” A wry smile twists my lips.
“Oh, I think I know. You were living the high life, throwing extravagant parties in my parents’ condo.
” At the narrowing of his eyes, I push out a laugh.
“Yes, I kept tabs on what was happening in New York. What were you doing on that night, huh, the night I gave birth?” I saw the media photos of him with beautiful women on his arm, attending fundraisers and high society events.
“Let me guess. You were sipping champagne at some fancy gala, congratulating yourself on rubbing shoulders with the city’s rich and famous.
Or maybe you were reclining in my father’s chair with your feet on his desk, enjoying a hundred dollar glass of whisky while counting all the money you’ve stolen. ”
My name sounds like a growl on his lips. “Tatiana.”
The way he says that is a warning for me to shut my mouth, but now that I’ve opened the lid on all those frightening, bitter feelings, I can’t stop.
“No, Dante. You don’t know how it feels to find out the father of your baby, a man you loved and trusted, used and betrayed you.
You don’t know how it feels to be cut off from everyone you cared about and every penny you owned, and to go into labor, scared, broke, and alone, so don’t tell me you understand.
You don’t have an inkling what it’s like to sit at a sick child’s bedside, night after night, praying he’ll pull through.
Do you have any idea what it feels like to need your mom when you become one yourself but knowing she’ll never be there for you?
” I swallow again, biting hard on my teeth not to spill the hot tears burning at the back of my eyes.
“To lie awake and worry where the money is going to come from to buy your baby’s next meal?
” My voice is filled with contempt. “I don’t think you do. ”
“I wish you’d told me.” He continues with the same deceptive calmness and tenderness of earlier, but he’s not as composed as he likes to give on.
The vein that throbs in his temple betrays his anger.
“I wanted to be there for you. For both of you.” He plants his hands on the counter on either side of my body, caging me in.
“Is that how much you loathed me? So much that you’d rather take all of that on your shoulders alone?
Goddamn, Tatiana.” A muscle ticks in his jaw.
“Can you even look at our child and not hate him?”
At the word hate, all my protective instincts jump to life.
My claws come out as when the midwife who assisted me at Noah’s birth hinted that I couldn’t take care of him and suggested I give him up for adoption.
“I hate what you did, but I could never hate my baby.” I add with vehemence, “I love my child.” And no one will ever take him away from me.
His words are soft-spoken. “Our child.”
Straightening, I put our chests flush together. “He’s not your child. The only thing he got from you was your sperm. That does not make you a father.”
His tone remains rational. “If I weren’t a father to Noah, it wasn’t by my doing.”
“No?” I laugh an ugly laugh. “Are you sure about that?”
“You made that decision all on your own,” he bites out.
“By hiding the truth and running from me, you didn’t give me a choice.
” He strikes out, closing his fingers in the bun at the back of my head.
“Do you think I wanted you to go through that alone? I would’ve been there for you, Tatiana, each step of the goddamn way. ”
His words only hurt me more, but I don’t believe him. Besides, that’s not the point. “Oh, every bit of how things happened was by your doing. Man up and take responsibility for your actions. You left me with no other choice when you killed my parents.”
He tightens his fingers in my hair, pulling on the roots. “I already told you it was never my intention for your mother to get hurt.”
“Don’t try to justify the murders you committed. You knew exactly what you were doing when you ordered that hit on my father.”
“I regret what happened to your mother.” He gives me light shake. “I’ll regret it until the day I die. But you never had a relationship with your father. Don’t pretend he was ever good to you.”
Slamming my hands on his chest, I try to push him away. “The kind of relationship I shared with my father is none of your damn business, and it was never a factor in your motives, so don’t excuse your crimes based on how my father treated me.”
“I’m not shifting the blame. I’m only stating the facts. And the fact is I won’t take Noah away from you unless you give me a damn good reason to, so you can relax and let the kid live a little.”
A snarl curls my upper lip. “Here’s a newsflash for you as you don’t seem to get it. I don’t trust you, Dante. That means I don’t trust you with my child.”
“I won’t tell you again.” He eases his hold on my hair, loosening his fingers. “Our child. And I’m not asking you to trust me.” His smile is lethal. Cold. “I don’t have to.”
Because he doesn’t need my trust. He can force me to do whatever the hell he wants, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“But you should.” He leans in, pressing the lengths of our bodies together. “You should learn to trust me. Just as you should’ve trusted me on the night you decided to run. You’ll make things a lot easier for yourself if you do.”
I don’t back away, not even when he grows hard against my stomach.
My chuckle is dry. “Since when has anything ever been easy?”
He rotates his hips. “This doesn’t have to be difficult.”
A flame sparks in my belly. My lower body heats, remembering how good a man’s touch can feel—his secure weight on your body and his rough hands on your skin—even as my heart rejects the very man who makes me recall those feelings, the only man who’s ever touched me in that way.
He lowers his head, brushing our cheeks together, and whispers words in my ear. “Give me what I want, and I’ll give you everything you need.”
Ah. He’s dressing the twisted arrangement up like a deal—I give him the means to destroy Leander as well as my body and everything else he wants from me, and in turn, Noah and I get a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. Dante even wins an heir in the process.
As if to make his meaning clear, he keeps me in place with one hand tangled in my hair while slipping the other under my T-shirt to cup my breast through my bra.
My nipple hardens without my permission.
My body reacts according to the simple laws of physics.
His soft caress echoes between my legs. I press my thighs together, trying to deny my reaction, but Dante hasn’t forgotten either.
Like me, he remembers the way my body works.
He abandons my breast to flatten his hand on my stomach. The fluttering of my muscles gives me away. His smile turns knowing as he moves his hand lower and dips it into the waistband of my jeans.
I should stop this now, but I want to see how far he’ll go.
If he’ll force me. A part of me hopes he’ll give me more reason to hate him.
Another part simply can’t say what it should—no.
I’ve definitely forgotten how overwhelming desire can rob you of all reason and sweep you along, and now that works against me.
He pauses with his fingers in my panties, a silent request.
And there’s my answer. I can push him away. He’ll back off. But I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and bite back a moan.
I’m playing with fire, yet it feels so good. It makes me forget about everything else, and I want just a little more of that sweet oblivion, no matter how fleeting it may be.
When I don’t object, he slips his hand in all the way and cups my pussy in his warm, calloused palm. He holds me like that for a moment, searching my eyes as we get reacquainted with each other in this way.
I close my eyes when he slides a finger through my folds, gathering my arousal.
They fly open again when tingles tighten my core as he circles my clit with lazy movements.
He’s going to make me come right here, right now.
Like his touch, I recognize the determined set of his features.
My pleasure was always important to him.
He’d take care of me, sometimes with his hand and sometimes with his mouth, even before he’d unbuckled his belt.
Sometimes with other objects. My cheeks heat at the memory of those improvised toys.
But this isn’t then. This is now, and he can no longer demand my pleasure as if it’s his right.
I grip his shoulders. “Dante.”
“I want this. You need it. It’s a win-win.”
No. There’s always been only one winner in this game.
Grabbing his wrist, I stop him. “Is that what this is? A demonstration of how your offer is going to work?”
He leans down and nips my earlobe before pressing wicked words with a kiss on my ear. “This, darling, is just the beginning, so get used to it.” His voice drops. “And it wasn’t an offer.”
Right. Because he’s not giving me a choice.
He taps my clit. “Now, shall we finish this, or have you lost your nerve?”
I pull his hands from my jeans. “I just wanted to see how far you’d push me.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Over the edge.” Splaying his fingers over my stomach, he leaves traces of my wetness on my skin. “You’ve always liked it when I pushed your boundaries.”
The declaration sounds sinister, but at least I’ve established one thing. He’s not going to take what I don’t want to give, not when it comes to my body. It’s good to know your opponent and which lines he won’t cross. Knowledge is power in war.
The back door opens. I give a start, but I don’t move. That’s another important point in warfare. Never show weakness.
Dante pulls his hand from under my T-shirt and moves away from me, albeit reluctantly. His fingers linger in my hair before he sets me free.
Noah rushes through the door. When he sees me, he starts bawling.
All that internal boasting about fighting cleverly flies straight out the window. My heart jumps into my throat. I step away from Dante and catch Noah in my arms as he runs into them.
“Hey.” I hug him close, my pulse spiking as he only cries louder. “What’s the matter?”
Jazz comes in after him.
I catch her apologetic gaze. “What happened?”
Noah pulls away and tilts his tearstained face to me. “I fell.” He points at his knee. “Look.”
I crouch down to inspect his leg through the hole where his tracksuit pants have torn. His knee is streaked with mud and bleeding where the skin came off.
Reino and the men from outside file through the door.
Dante hooks his hands under Noah’s armpits and lifts him onto the table, making him sit with his legs dangling over the edge. “Let me see that.”
It takes everything I have to stay put and allow Dante to take care of Noah. The only thing that prevents me from interfering is that Noah’s crying has dwindled to hiccups.
Dante whistles as he gently straightens Noah’s leg. “That’s quite a grass burn, buddy.”
Noah sniffs. “Is it bad?”
Dante wipes a few grass blades from Noah’s sweatpants. “The occasional injury is part of the game.”
Noah leans back on his hands. “Really?”
“Ask Ted.” Dante looks at their goalkeeper. “He played professionally before he came to work for me.”
“Yep.” Ted steps forward, his expression solemn. “Sometimes, you’re going to take a fall. There’s a chance you may break something.” He points at his knee. “Torn these ligaments.” He jabs a thumb on his collarbone. “And broke this bone right here.”
Reino widens his stance. “I broke my leg twice with skiing.” He cocks his head toward the hallway. “Ulysses got a few fractures playing ice hockey.”
Ted chuckles. “Ulysses is somewhat of a national champion. And what Reino didn’t tell you is that he’s got an Olympic gold medal for freestyle skiing. So you see, even the pros have accidents.”
Noah looks between them. “Really?”
With all the men trying to make him feel better, he’s already smiling again. My little boy has never been the center of so much attention.
Dante brushes a curl from Noah’s sweaty forehead.
“Falling is nothing. Like the guys told you, it happens to even the best sportsmen. The important thing is to get up and finish the game.” He locks his hands around Noah’s waist and lowers him to his feet.
“How about we get that cleaned up so it doesn’t get infected?
You wouldn’t want to sit out on the next practice game because it hasn’t healed properly. ”
I don’t miss how Dante often poses a question at Noah, giving him a choice instead of an order. It’s a clever strategy. Allowing Noah to buy into the decision won’t make him feel as if Dante is forcing it on him.
“Come.” I hold out my hand. “Let’s go wash up in the bathroom so we can disinfect those scrapes. I have Spiderman band-aids in my bag.”
For once, Noah takes my hand.
I avoid Dante’s gaze as we leave the kitchen. I don’t want him to see how close I came to giving in or how much I hate myself for that weakness.