12. Dante
Dante
I was nothing if not persistent.
And this long weekend in Vegas for Emory’s birthday celebration was my opportunity. It’d give me a chance to be alone with her. I’d ensure that.
“Basilio, you take your wife and do whatever the fuck you do with her,” I told him as we got ready to head out. “Make more babies,” I deadpanned.
“She’s pregnant,” Priest called out from his room on the other side of my suite. “And I don’t like that fucking image.”
I shrugged. Ever since he learned Wynter was his half-sibling, his protective instinct with that girl skyrocketed. It was fucking annoying as shit.
“Fine, don’t make more babies,” I said. “Just fuck her so hard she pops this one out. Isn’t she due any day now?”
“What the fuck, man!” Basilio and Priest spat at the same time.
“Bottom line is to distract your wife,” I hissed, annoyed at my family. “I want Juliette alone.”
Basilio shook his head. “Man, maybe that’s not the best plan. It sounds like it’s headed for a disaster.”
“There is no maybe about it,” Priest answered, his voice clearly indicating he didn’t agree with my plan. “Liam will freak the fuck out.”
“We’ll worry about Brennan some other time,” I told him. “Stop raining on my parade.”
“Cuz, you don’t have to worry about us. Juliette will be the one raining on your parade. She’ll cut your balls off. Your 1934 Hudson Convertible Coupe’s damage will be mild compared to her fury if you lock her up.”
My brother and cousin were the only ones who truly knew about my obsession for Juliette. But at this moment, their support sucked balls.
“I’m not locking her up,” I snapped. “I’m marrying her. If she stops fighting me, she’ll see we’re perfect for each other. Without her entourage, she’ll be forced to spend time with me.”
“Well, you’re both delusional, so maybe you’re right,” Priest agreed.
I just flipped him off, ignoring his snarky comments.
Emory strode into the room right on time. “Ah, birthday girl.”
“Not yet,” she snapped. She didn’t want the birthday party. “And don’t think I can’t see through your devious plan. You started this fucking idea for my birthday party so you could seize a chance with Juliette Brennan.”
I glared at her. “Stop saying it so fucking loud.”
Emory narrowed her eyes on me. “You know you’re on the top floor of the Bellagio. The Presidential Suite, no less. No other guests are here.”
I was so fucking paranoid that I forgot.
“Maybe someone is visiting,” I offered.
“Yeah, like the unknown bride,” Basilio snickered.
I growled at him. “Listen, fucker. You kidnapped your wife from the goddamn Olympics. Did I object? No, I helped you. Now, shut the fuck up. All of you. And follow the plan.”
That got their attention. Good. I was sick and tired of waiting for Juliette to come to her senses. She belonged to me. I belonged to her. Cities sizzled and sparked every time we were in the same location.
So help me God. She’d be mine.
“Emory, you distract Killian. Basilio, you bribe the babysitter and have her call Davina for an emergency.”
“And the lamb will be left unguarded,” Emory finished dryly.
My family fucking sucked sometimes.
* * *
Fuck.
Juliette looked breathtaking. Two years of pining after a girl who couldn’t stand you were too goddamn long. She was stubborn as fuck and even more proud. But I was even more so.
So far everything was going according to plan. My father and Juliette’s aunt didn’t plan on attending tonight’s nightclub gathering. Basilio already dragged Wynter upstairs. Davina and Liam had the so-called emergency with the sitter. Ivy had a headache.
And Emory dragged Killian out.
Taking another sip of whisky, Juliette and I made it back onto the dance floor. My gaze settled on her. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were shining but her pupils were slightly dilated.
The plan was working.
My lips curved into a smile. I inhaled deeply, my eyes burning over Juliette’s creamy skin, the elegant curve of her neck, her stunning-as-fuck body, and her dark hair.
Juliette’s eyes locked with mine and she smiled freely. It had to be her first free smile in the two years I’d known her.
“Regretting the dance?”
A smirk curved my lips. “Not even a bit.”
Her tongue darted out, swiping over her bottom lip. I had no fucking idea whether she did it on purpose or not, but the gesture made my dick harden in my pants. All she had to do was smile at me and she looked like a goddess of seduction.
I knew I had it bad when I couldn’t get it up or get off with another woman after my first encounter with Juliette in my casino. It would turn out that the DiLustro curse finally caught up to me too. We pined and wanted what we couldn’t have.
Except, this felt different. Deeper. Stronger.
I remembered the little girl with eyes shining like sapphires under the sun staring at me, offering me her pink scrunchie. The little girl that promised she’d save me one day. Nobody ever saved me and this little girl didn’t even know me. And she was willing to save me.
My fucking brother and cousin would die laughing if they knew. I ensured they didn’t. I was close with them but not that fucking close.
Juliette’s lips curved up, drawing my eyes to them. “Well, I’ll give you one thing, DiLustro. You are a smooth dancer.”
Things couldn’t be going any better. I had Juliette all to myself. She reached for a waiter who offered drinks and downed another shot glass of Fireball. She seemed to love those way too much. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks stained with a permanent blush.
Without warning, she stopped dancing and closed the distance between us. She rose on her tiptoes, bringing her face close to mine. Well, she attempted to. She was so much shorter, I had to bend my head down.
“Let’s go barhopping,” she suggested, her words slightly slurred. “And then chapel-hopping.”
Taking her chin between my fingers gently, her skin soft under my fingertips, I forced her to focus her eyes on me.
“Just how drunk are you right now?”
She rolled her eyes, but a lazy smile spread across her face. It told me she was drunk as fuck. The substance was well past kicking in and she was feeling the effects of it.
She leaned closer to me and bumped her forehead against my chest, leaving it to rest there.
“Yes, let’s do it. Chapel-hopping. I’ve never even seen a chapel and I’ve been here for two days.”
The evening was looking up.
Then she lifted her face, and before I could even say anything, she slammed her mouth against mine. I stilled for a moment, surprised at her move, but before I could think rationally, my hands cupped her cheeks and I thrust my tongue into her welcoming mouth.
Every muscle in my body tightened. A groan vibrated in my chest, adrenaline rushed through my veins, and a pulse buzzed in my ears.
One word seared into my mind and echoed in my chest.
Mine. Forever mine.
She tasted so good. I sucked on her tongue, hungry to taste her. Her hands wrapped around my neck, her blunt nails scraping along my nape. Her breasts pushed against me, burning me even through the three-piece suit I was wearing.
Reluctantly, I pulled back, and my eyes searched her face. She was breathless, blinking with a dazed look in her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and parted… she looked downright fuckable.
So damn tempting.
But that wasn’t part of my plan. Not when she was drunk and drugged.
“Let’s go bar and chapel-hopping,” she announced again, then before I could even answer, she grabbed my hand and dragged me off the dance floor. The moment we stepped outside, goosebumps broke out over her skin.
Vegas was warm during the day, but nights could be chilly. So I slid my jacket off and put it on her shoulders.
“Thank you, Dante.” She glanced my way and offered a dazzling smile. Jesus Christ. Where was this side of Juliette hiding all this time? I didn’t even know she could knock a man off his feet with just a smile.
Then it hit me. It was the first time she uttered my name. It sounded so fucking hot coming from her lips. Soft. Like a lover’s whisper.
She slid her arms into the sleeves and I wrapped my arms around her, almost expecting her to push me away. Instead, she leaned her slender body further into me.
Fucking shit. I was whipped.
“Let’s walk,” she suggested. “We don’t need to drive down the strip.”
“Okay,” I agreed. Fuck, did I do the right thing? I wanted to ask for forgiveness but I wanted her even more. So we walked. It’d help with clearing her head. Mine too. Although I feared her kiss might have gotten me drunk. I had definitely fallen under her spell.
I kept my eyes alert, flicking my gaze her way every so often. My hand around her shoulder, and her hands wrapped around my waist, we looked like two lovers taking a stroll. We passed a few bars, but thankfully, she didn’t bring them up.
After a few blocks, she stopped in front of a building and shouted out, “A drive-through wedding chapel.” This was where I’d always wanted to end up with her, but now, I wasn’t so sure.
The marriage license burned a hole in my pocket.
I should drag her out of here. This plan was so damn wrong, yet my feet remained still.
Two years. It was to give us a chance. Yet deep down, I knew I was taking it too far.
My lips brushed over the soft skin on her neck, then traced my mouth up her jawline and ended the trail with a kiss on her forehead.
Her eyes were closed and a small smile curved her lips. Then she slowly opened them, the depths of them shining like stars trapped in the blue seas.
“Do you think we need a car?” she asked softly. “I really, really want to do it.”
Fuck it.
“We don’t need a car.”
And that was how I sealed our future.