9. Dante
Dante
I t had been months since Alessio’s wedding to his woman. Months since my cousin’s wedding to Wynter.
Months since that spitfire cousin of hers, my future bride, destroyed my grandfather’s priceless antique car. My jaw clenched at the memory. I loved that car. Unfortunately for me, I loved the woman who took a bat to it and then drew a penis on it with her lipstick even more.
Healthy? Fuck, no. I seriously considered seeing a goddamn therapist.
Especially now as I watched her across the street sitting at the tiny table—why did the fucking cafe have such small tables—for their guests.
It was a cafe, not speed dating. Although I wouldn’t mind this dude rotating right along.
Ten minutes were up, asshole. It took all of my control not to storm in there and drag her ass out of it.
My chest twisted and aversion slithered through my veins. Instead of dragging her ass, maybe I should just kill him. That would be a more permanent solution. Then I’d drag her ass out of there. I didn’t care about witnesses. I didn’t care about the consequences.
The only thing that was louder than my need for her was the need to kill this fucker who was now smiling at her. It wasn’t even a sweet smile. It was condescending. Like he knew something about her that I didn’t.
Zooming in from my spot across the street, I snapped a picture and sent it to Nico Morrelli. He ran Maryland, D.C., and Virginia. The guy was a tech whiz and could dig just about anything up. Usually I would just send it to Priest, but he’d jerk my chain for months afterward.
*Need a name. Price is not an issue.*
It had been exactly one hundred sixty-four days, twelve hours, and—I glanced at the clock—thirty-eight minutes since Juliette and I crossed paths.
At Alessio Russo’s wedding. It was the last time I touched her soft skin.
And fuck, I had never met a woman with such smooth and soft skin.
I could ask her father for her hand in marriage again but being rejected twice was my limit.
Besides, she might take her anger out on another one of my vehicles. My grandfather’s car was still suffering the damages of her outburst when I asked Liam the last time. That girl was hotheaded.
Bottom line, Juliette had been avoiding me for months now.
Considering Davina’s words of advice, I attempted to give her space, so I wouldn’t push her away.
But my patience was waning. I couldn’t wait anymore—I missed her the way the desert missed the rain.
The way the moon missed the sun. All I had been doing was thinking about her.
It was absurd, the girl had hardly given me the time of day.
Talk about the ironies of life. But I was a persistent man unfamiliar with the concept of giving up.
When Basilio said Juliette was in New York—declaring his annoyance—I rushed to the Big Apple.
I’d been tailing her since my plane landed, following closely as she walked the streets aimlessly, right before she stopped in front of this coffee shop.
She’d just stood facing the “Welcome” sign for a few moments, as if crossing the threshold of that cafe would change her life forever.
It actually reminded me of that evening right before Christmas so many years ago.
The little girl, aged twelve, maybe thirteen, pressing her face against the Tiffany store window.
She was all grown up now. It was impossible to forget those eyes.
They weren’t a normal blue. More like the shimmering surface of the Ionian Sea.
The one I swam in during my one amazing trip to Greece. I hadn’t seen eyes that color since.
I wondered if she knew that the boy who’d saved her that day was me. Would it make a difference if she did? Seemed like fate had been throwing us together for a long time, if you asked me.
We must have come full circle because now it was me with my face pressed up against a window on the streets of New York City, trying to catch a glimpse of those blue eyes once more.
My brows furrowed and my hand froze midair, my phone still in my hand. Something flickered in the back of my mind. Something important. Something that had been bugging me from the moment I’d met Juliette.
My phone buzzed, vibrating through my palm. I shook my head and checked my phone.
*Brandon Dole.*
The name Nico sent meant nothing. And I hated it simply because he was sitting at the table in a romantic cafe with her.
I glared across the street to where the fucker smiled at and chatted with my girl.
Their table was right at the window, giving them a view of Central Park.
So fucking romantic, I couldn’t stand it.
I wanted to pull my gun out, aim, and end him.
Right here and now in the street heaving with tourists.
My anger simmered. Jealousy burned. Something inexplicably dark rose in my chest and refused to ease. No matter Juliette’s refusal. No matter her stubbornness. She was mine .
My phone buzzed. Another message from Nico. *Rest of the information is pro bono. Can’t wait to see her cut your balls off.*
“Fucking bastard,” I muttered. “I hope his daughters fall for heathens.”
Nico sent the guy’s entire background. A tattoo artist. A lousy one by the number of lawsuits pending against him. My eyes skimmed over the page and then I saw it. He and Juliette went to high school together.
Taking a deep breath, I prepared for a long evening.
My car parked illegally, I found a spot across the street from the cafe and leaned against the wall where I had the best view of the two of them.
Pedestrians threw me glances as they rushed to their destinations, but I ignored them all. My eyes were zeroed in on my woman.
Juliette would bolt if she heard me say that out loud.
As if she could sense my thoughts, her eyes darted out the window. Glossy. Darker than ever. And it was then that it hit me.
The little girl I rescued almost a decade ago didn’t have that look in her eyes. Even in the face of the thug, her eyes were bright. No burden or secrets in them. But now, there was a darkness in those depths that she was desperate to hide. How had I not seen it before?
Before I could ponder further on it, a hand came to my shoulder.
“I see you’re in full-blown stalker mode,” my brother muttered as he leaned against the wall next to me.
A groan vibrated in my chest. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Philly?”
Priest just shrugged. “With the Corsican mafia gone, I’m the king there. So not much happening lately,” he noted.
My own father had started dating Wynter’s mother. We learned Priest was in fact my half brother and shared a mother with Wynter, explaining why my mother was always harsher with him growing up. Not that she was ever gentle with me .
It was quickly becoming difficult for even me to keep track of the ties that bound my fucked-up family.
Mother had hated both of us and used her belt to show just how much.
The skin on my back tightened and I resisted the urge to scratch it.
I hated her; Priest hated her even more, even now eight years after her death.
It was the reason my brother couldn’t move past the revelation that he shared a mother with Wynter.
She could have saved him and she didn’t. But then, neither did our father.
“Maybe we should invite them back?” I said. “You know, just to keep you busy.”
Priest chuckled. A rough sound since he rarely laughed. “My big brother ensured they left the city. Even the East Coast.”
I shook my head. It didn’t surprise me he’d learned of my deal with Byron Ashford. Alessio came through. He didn’t even take long… nobody could claim that man wasn’t efficient. I guess he just wanted his woman back and would have given up his entire empire—and hers—for it.
My eyes found Juliette again and realization sunk in. I would give it all up for her, too. If only she’d let me. Instead, she held her walls firmly, keeping me at bay.
“Shouldn’t you thank me and go enjoy your peace?” I asked with sardonic amusement.
“Nah, it leaves me nobody to kill,” he deadpanned.
I gave my head a shake. Sometimes I wondered whether his need to punish was the result of my bitch mother or whether it was just part of his DNA.
“Well, don’t kill anyone in this city. Basilio won’t be happy.”
Priest just shrugged. “He’ll deal.”
“Or your sister will save you if he refuses to deal.”
Wynter was just as protective of her brother as I was. It was still hard to believe that Wynter and I shared a sibling. It had been a year since that revelation, and it was just as incredible now as it was back then.
Priest’s blue eyes turned my way. “Jealous?”
I snickered, my chest tightening slightly. I wasn’t exactly jealous, but I did worry. I didn’t want to see my brother hurt if word of what he did on a regular basis got out. I accepted that part of him. Would others?
“No, I’m not jealous,” I said. “Just cautious.”
Silence followed. Ghosts stood in the shadows right along with us, taunting us. I wished I could murder them, make them dissipate into the atmosphere. Although I suspected it wouldn’t work. They’d stay with us for the remainder of our days.
“Are you sure she’s the one?” Priest questioned.
I nodded. She was the only one.
Buses passed, the loud honks startling passersby. Neither Priest nor I flinched. It took a lot more to startle us. The buzz of the city was all around us. A baseball game. The constant sound of an air-conditioning unit whirring. The smell of hot dogs, drifting from a nearby food truck.
“We should grab something to eat after you’re done stalking her,” Priest said, breaking the silence.
I had planned on heading to my favorite joint for my favorite burger. Right after Juliette left this dude. My appetite was the only thing that remained intact since meeting Juliette.
My dick suffered. It wanted the mahogany-haired woman with porcelain skin and blue eyes. My thoughts also suffered, because they all revolved around her.
If our fleeting interaction at the last wedding was any indication, Juliette would fight our attraction. It was at Alessio’s wedding that I made the decision to be more devious moving forward and make that woman mine through any means necessary.
So I devised a plan. She wouldn’t be able to escape me once I trapped her.
And she’d never see me coming.