15. Juliette
Juliette
O f all the scenarios, this had to be the worst one.
My eyes kept darting between his finger and mine.
The wedding rings. A simple black band on his finger and a platinum band with black diamonds on mine.
The diamond, on what was presumably my engagement ring, was beautiful.
Except, I couldn’t remember a single damn thing that happened to get it on my finger.
Shocked prickles spread over every inch of my skin. I returned my attention to the well-dressed Italian, his eyes resting cautiously on me. Suddenly, I felt parched. My tongue darted out to wet my lips.
“What happened last night?” I asked cautiously.
Dante reached to the bedside table where a fresh cup of Starbucks coffee sat in the paper cup holder, then held it out to me and I took it, our fingers brushing together.
“Did we—” I couldn’t even finish the statement.
God, we might have had sex and I couldn’t even remember.
Fuck! There was one thing that was certain to be a glorious memory and that was sex with this man.
Or maybe I panicked and embarrassed myself, just as I had a few minutes ago. “Did we have sex?”
Dante shrugged. I took it as a yes and pushed my hand through my dark hair.
“Oh my God,” I rasped. “I can’t even remember it.
” I gripped my hair as if that would pull memories from some dark corner of my mind.
Maybe I should look at the bright side of things.
If I slept with him and he was still alive, apparently, it must have gone okay.
I didn’t punch him. Or bite him, as far as I could see.
He’d remember that. Right?
“I can’t remember anything,” I repeated in a whisper.
Then horror shot through me and my eyes widened. If I opened my mouth, sex with Dante would be the last thing to worry about. I watched him cautiously, studying his masked expression. That was the thing with Dante. You could never tell what he was thinking. Either to fuck you or kill you.
“Did I say anything?” I questioned, swallowing the lump in my throat. What if I had admitted my secret to him? I steeled my spine, already working out some ludicrous explanation in the back of my mind. “Last night,” I clarified.
Dante stood up, his tall frame making me crane my neck. God, the man was tall. Too fucking tall. I preferred a man that didn’t tower over me. That didn’t make me feel smaller. This guy made me feel vulnerable and that was the feeling I hated the most.
“Well?” I asked, my tone slightly insolent. I couldn’t help it, he brought out the worst in me.
“Like what?” he questioned, his tone curious.
“Anything,” I gritted. “Why do you make everything so difficult?”
He raised one eyebrow nonchalantly. “I’m simply asking a question, Juliette,” he elaborated. “I’m not your enemy here.”
Jesus Christ, this fucker. Always irritating me.
Nobody ever made my temper flare as much as Dante DiLustro.
It was the reason for destroying his precious car.
When he first approached my father with his ultimatum for destroying his casino—a marriage ultimatum—I’d lost my shit.
Truthfully, my girlfriends and I didn’t destroy his casino.
We just made it smell a bit better, more… lavender-y.
“What do you think you said last night?” Dante questioned again.
I let out an exasperated breath. “What do you remember?” I asked instead. It wasn’t as if I’d tell him what I hoped I didn’t say. He was probably working that reverse psychology on me.
He pushed his hand, with the black band, through his thick dark hair.
“The last thing I remember was having drinks with you, and then heading onto the dance floor,” he stated matter-of-factly.
I nodded. I remembered that too. “Then we headed out to hit another bar. You insisted on barhopping and seeing at least one chapel in Vegas.”
Wonderful. So it was my idea! What. The. Actual. Fuck.
“Well, that is more than I remember,” I grumbled. “Dancing with you must have been the worst idea I ever had. Clearly it led to a string of bad decisions.”
That smug smile reappeared on his face. “Clearly you find me irresistible.”
I rolled my eyes, annoyed at his self-confidence. My gaze darted to the rumpled sheets, then back to Dante.
“God, I don’t know which is worse,” I muttered. “The idea that we slept together or the idea that we got married.” My eyes lowered down to my finger. “Maybe we played pretend or some shit,” I added hopefully.
Reaching into his breast pocket, Dante removed a piece of paper and held it out to me. I watched it wearily. “Take it,” he demanded.
I shook my head. If I saw an official document with what we’d done, I wouldn’t be able to pretend it was a nightmare. That it didn’t happen.
“I didn’t take you for a coward, Juliette,” he drawled, studying me with a dark expression.
My eyes jumped between Dante and the document, then slowly I reached for it. For a second, I studied it, not wanting to open it but finally, straightening my shoulders, I set the coffee cup down, tightened the towel wrapped around my body, then unfolded the document.
Oh. My. God.
It was a marriage certificate with both of our names on it. My lungs squeezed and I shook my head.
“No, no, no,” I murmured over and over again, as if that would make it all better. I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them hoping I’d find different information on the certificate. Still the same names.
Dante DiLustro and Juliette Brennan—now DiLustro.
“Oh my God.” I gulped as I moved over to sit on the side of the bed. “Oh my fucking God.” My brain cells must have still been drunk because it took a while for the knowledge to sink in and for any ideas to come. There had to be a way to rectify the situation.
In a numb state, I watched my sparkling blue toes press against the wooden floor of the hotel.
“How much did we drink, exactly?” I asked.
“Apparently a lot,” he replied, his voice slightly hoarse.
Closing my eyes, I tried to recall a single detail of last night. Yet, nothing came forward. Not a single image. It made no sense. I could hold my liquor. The girls and I drank bottles and bottles of vodka and other hard liquor. I had never blacked out.
“Are you okay?” Dante asked, concern in his voice evident.
“Okay? No, I’m not okay”—I waved the marriage certificate in front of his nose—“I got married. This is the most unoriginal thing I have ever done. Getting married in Vegas.”
He took the certificate from my hands and tucked it back into his pocket. “It could be worse. You could have robbed a casino in Vegas,” he remarked wryly, referring to our robbery of his casino in Chicago.
“Why can’t you let that go?” I mumbled under my breath. “I’ve never met a man that holds a grudge like you.”
It seemed like decades ago when it was only two years ago. Gosh, how things have changed. When I first met him, I wasn’t a killer. Yet as it stood, I had blood on my hands.
My eyes darted to Dante. Now both of our hands were drenched in blood. Two years ago, mine were at least innocent.
I should have never gone down this path. Who knew the road would lead us here that day in his casino? Two years of circling each other. Two years of bickering. Two years of… foreplay?
“Drink the coffee,” Dante urged. “The cappuccino is just the way you like it.” The fact he knew the way I like my coffee combined with his deep, warm voice had my insides shuddering.
“You need it.” I didn’t move. I didn’t say anything.
“It seems the cat indeed got your tongue,” he said, a light sarcasm in his voice sending an alert through me.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speechless before. ”
In hindsight, it wasn’t the best thing to say that night in his casino, but fuck it. I wasn’t good at thinking on my feet. I reacted. Maybe I reacted last night too.
He pushed the cup closer to my face and I took a sip, letting the warm liquid rush down my throat. It tasted good, and apparently it was exactly what I needed to come up with a brilliant plan.
“We can get an annulment,” I exclaimed. “It happens all the time.”
“No.”
My spine stiffened. I slowly turned my head and narrowed my eyes on him.
“No?” I repeated, ending it on a question.
His dark eyes burned, locked on me. If he’d pulled on my towel, I’d be left standing here naked next to him fully dressed in his signature three-piece suit.
“Check your phone.” My eyes lifted to him.
“Why?” I questioned, furrowing my brows. “It’s hardly the time to be phoning anyone.”
He shook his head. “It seems you sent a mass text announcing our marriage.”
My mouth dropped and my eyes popped out of my head.
“What?” I rasped in disbelief. “I—I did what?”
At that very moment, the hotel room door burst open and I jumped to my feet with a squeal. My girlfriends had shown up at the door, their wide eyes darting between Dante and me. My gaze traveled over Wynter, Ivy, then ended at Davina.
“Oh my gosh, it’s true,” one of them whispered. Their attention ping-ponged between the two of us and the rumpled sheets behind us that clearly indicated something happened last night.
Before I could say anything, Dad showed up behind Davina. He looked from me to Dante, then behind us. Disappointment flashed across his expression and he shook his head.
“It’s done, then,” he remarked, his voice tight. “You could have saved me the grief over the years and just done it when he asked to marry you.”
“Dad, it’s not like that,” I started to say but he put his hand up.
“It’s exactly as it looks, Juliette,” he answered.
“No, it’s fucking worse,” my brother spat, showing up out of nowhere. He was furious, glaring at Dante. “He’s been stalking Juliette, unwilling to let go. I’m willing to bet he just waited for her to get drunk, then dragged her to the nearest chapel.”
I swallowed hard. It wasn’t right to put all the blame on Dante. “We were both drunk,” I murmured. “He doesn’t remember anything either.”
Besides, I didn’t want to be the cause for the war between my family and Dante’s. If I let my brother lay all the blame on Dante, I could get out of the marriage but at what cost? The image of dead Dante flashed in my mind and something about it unsettled me. Upset me even.
“You’re actually defending him?” Killian growled, pulling out his gun and aiming it at Dante. The latter wouldn’t have it and responded the same, jumping to his feet. “As much as you hate him, you’re defending him?”
“Whoa, hold on,” Wynter chimed in. “You can’t shoot him, Killian.”
“Why the fuck not?” He kept his weapon trained on Dante. I rushed to them and put myself between my brother and my… ugh, my husband.
“Get behind me, Juliette,” Dante growled. “Before your fucking brother makes a mistake and shoots you.”
I rolled my eyes. What a stupid thing to say!
“Juliette, listen to your one-minute husband,” Killian snickered. “I’ll end him before we leave and you can be a widow.”
It sounded tempting, but not at the cost of Dante’s life. I couldn’t let my fear dictate what happens to him. I swallowed hard, fear trembling in my chest. It felt cold, icing over my lungs.
“Killian, lower your weapon,” Dad chimed in calmly. My brother ignored him. According to the expression on Dad’s face, he was close to losing his shit. “Dante, lower your weapon, then; since my son has turned into a stubborn ass.”
Dante ignored him too.
“Liam, let’s take Killian and go check on the baby,” Davina said, attempting to ease the tense situation. “I don’t like to leave him with the sitter.”
I forced a smile. “You will leave my hotel room too,” I said, locking eyes with my brother. “Now.”
“This isn’t over, DiLustro,” Killian warned as he turned on his heel and left us.
At least he listened. Usually he did whatever the hell he wanted.
Although, he’d been different lately. More pensive.
Less aggressive. I didn’t know if it had something to do with his broken engagement or something else.
Once he was gone, the girls all started to leave. I could see by the look in their eyes, this wouldn’t be the end of it either.
“Can we get the juicy details?” Wynter mused. “After all, it’s payback time.”
“Get out,” I snapped. “Everyone, get out.”
“Well, that seems unfair,” Davina mockingly sneered. “We shared all the juicy details with you.”
I narrowed my eyes on her. She knew very well I never wanted to know the juicy details of her with my dad. Yuck! No, thank you.
“No, you didn’t.” I padded across the floor, Dante right at my back. God, if this was how things would go, he’d be dead by my own hand before the week was over. “Now, get out.”
I pushed them out of the room, ignoring their snickering remarks.
With the door shut, I leaned against it with a heavy sigh. “This is a clusterfuck,” I grumbled, searching Dante’s eyes. “We need an annulment. Right away.”
Dante’s phone beeped and he reached for it. Something resembling satisfaction passed his expression before he masked it.
He gestured between us. “Get dressed. Your father wants us at Emory’s birthday party.”
I groaned. I forgot about the birthday party being hosted at her place tonight. It was the only reason we’d come to Vegas.
“I’ll go with my family,” I reasoned. “You go with yours. No need to act like we’re married.”
“But we are married.” He gestured to my hand as if to bring his point home. As if I could forget. I’d only held the stupid marriage certificate minutes ago. “And your father expects us to go together. So do I.”
I gaped at him.
“So what? Just because you two insist, I have to follow?” I snapped. We stood chest to chest, the scent of a forest after rain and leather seeping into my lungs. An involuntary shudder traveled through me. “I won’t go with you,” I protested. “We are not together.”
“We’re married,” he gritted.
“I don’t know what happened last night but mistakes happen. Everyone knows we’d never have gotten married if we were sober.”
He maintained his composure, his gaze cold on me but his jaw ticked, betraying him. “Never say never.”
I let out a frustrated breath. “I am saying never, Dante.” When he remained silent, I continued, my tone higher in pitch. “I’m not sleeping with you. I’m not going to be married to you. I’m not doing anything with you. I’d sooner cut your dick off than have sex with you.”
“Get dressed, Juliette,” he ordered. Placing both his hands on my arms, he lifted me up like a stiff doll and shifted me to the left.
Then he left the room as I stared after him and the closed door.
I fucked up royally this time.