23. Dante
Dante
T raffic was nearly at a standstill on the Eisenhower Expressway in Chicago.
I was weaving in and out of both lanes, eager to get home while Juliette sat in the passenger seat, quietly staring out the window. Her jaw was pressed tightly and she was definitely brooding. She was adamant about looking anywhere but at me.
My phone rang and I answered it without looking at the caller ID. “DiLustro.”
“You left without a word. Aisling wanted to have a word with Juliette.” My father’s voice was sharp on the phone.
Exhaling a hard breath, I kept my temper under control.
As far as I was concerned, Aisling could go fuck herself.
Both her and Liam Brennan. I had been researching Travis Xander, and it would seem he attended high school with Juliette.
He must have assaulted her under her aunt’s watch and the dumb bitch didn’t even know it.
No girl should suffer through that. But then to suffer through it alone, it made me murderous.
“We’re on our honeymoon,” I gritted. “She can talk to her later.”
I sensed more than saw Juliette stiffening next to me. I flicked a gaze her way and mouthed, “Want to talk to your aunt?”
She shook her head and returned to stare out the window.
“Well, I’m going to get back to my honeymoon, Father.”
“Listen, son. I know you and Christian are upset,” he said, matter-of-factly, as though almost two years ago we hadn’t learned that our life could have been normal. Different. Not full of pain and torture leveled on us by his first wife. The narcissistic mother.
It was thanks to my mother that Christian was known as Priest.
“What makes you think we’re upset?” I asked coolly.
He had no fucking idea what I had been through. What Christian had been through! He was too blind being the kingpin and mourning his mistress to be involved with our lives. To see the signs.
“Anything else?” I said when he didn’t reply.
He let out a sigh. “No, nothing else.”
I ended the call and the rest of the drive to my Chicago home passed in silence. I didn’t mind, because in my mind I was going over all the creative ways I’d make Travis Xander suffer.
It was almost six in the evening when we finally pulled into the driveway. A three-story brownstone building with white columns on the front porch welcomed us from behind the surrounding fence.
I clicked the gate opener on my dashboard and the wrought-iron gates swung open, slowly gliding to the left.
“Nice crib,” Juliette said, her first words in over three hours. “You bought it or did your dad?”
My eyebrow shot up. “Why would my father buy me a place to live?”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Big Shot. We get it,” she muttered. “You bought it with your own dirty money.”
Amusement filled me. “Dirty money?” I asked. “Didn’t you and your friends cheat at my casino only a few years ago?”
I knew from Basilio that the four friends wanted to start a school for up-and-coming criminals together. The idea was interesting. In fact, I was surprised nobody thought of it before. Either way, I’d help her with it—if she’d let me.
She shrugged. “Forced by circumstances.”
I pulled into the garage and parked next to a Mercedes SUV, and then I got out. Of course, Juliette was already grabbing the door handle but I was faster. Opening the door for her, I helped her out.
“Welcome home.”
The air smelled crisp and fresh. Like upcoming snow. Which meant that the ground was too cold for her bare feet.
Without warning, I scooped her up and carried her across the threshold of our home.
“What are you doing?” she squealed.
“You’re barefoot and winters are cold in Chicago,” I reasoned.
Somehow, my gut feeling warned that Juliette wasn’t ready for any signs of a real marriage. But we’d get there. Even if I had to hammer through her walls and burn every piece of furniture in the house. I anticipated her wanting her own room and her own bed.
The moment we left Vegas, I sent instructions to my staff to get rid of all the beds in the house. Burn them. Donate them. I didn’t give a shit, as long as they were all out. All but one—the one in my bedroom.
“I’ll have a tray brought up to the bedroom for us,” I told her as I carried her up the stairs. Her eyes darted left and right, studying her new home. “I have a cook and a maid.”
“Hmmm.”
Her arms wrapped around my neck and I didn’t think she realized her fingers played with the hair on my nape.
I headed straight for the staircases, her tension evident by the way she gripped my hair.
“You can take a bath and soak. You’ve had a rough day.”
Juliette’s huge blue eyes met mine, but she didn’t say anything. Fuck, she didn’t even know how easily my dick responded to her. It was all it needed, one simple look and I was hard. Ignoring it, I kept walking toward the master bedroom.
Once I entered our bedroom, I let her slide down my body and onto the soft rug. She was observant, studying every piece of furniture.
“How come none of the guest bedrooms have beds?” she asked, her finger trailing over the dresser.
“I never have guests,” I lied.
She flicked me a disbelieving look. “Not even your brother and cousin?”
“They prefer to stay in a hotel,” I said. At least it was a half-truth. They preferred to stay in the hotel but never did.
“Hmmm, that’s weird.”
She padded across the room, peeking into the walk-in closet.
“There are some things for you already here,” I told her. “More of your stuff is downstairs. I’ll bring it up tomorrow morning and you can buy whatever else you need. Take any side of the closet you want.”
“Thanks,” she said absent-mindedly as she walked toward the window, peering outside. She didn’t seem that interested in fashion.
Honestly, I had yet to figure Juliette out. She seemed to be all over the place with her interests. Ballet. Robbery. Recently even self-defense classes and shooting.
“Long winters here, huh?” she remarked.
They were long and extremely cold. February was one of the coldest months in the year. And darkest. It was way too dark for her to see anything out there, except for the outline of the gardens under the moon.
“I prefer a warm climate,” she mumbled. “I’ve spent most of my time in California.”
I knew that. It’s where she went to high school and where that asshole Travis lived. But he’d pay. Very soon. I already had it all lined up. The thought of that fucker had my vision filling with a red mist. I had to take a deep breath and focus on Juliette, instead of frightening her with my rage.
She looked small next to the large master bed and massive mahogany furniture. Even standing in front of that huge floor-to-ceiling window. This decor didn’t seem to be her style but then she didn’t strike me as a girl overly concerned with the decor of a home.
“Shower or a bath?” I called out as I strode into the bathroom.
Juliette jumped and whirled around. Lovely. She forgot I was here and all I could focus on was her. Her eyes as blue as the sky on the clearest day met mine.
“Excuse me?”
“Shower or a bath?” I questioned again, gritting my teeth. “Which do you prefer?”
Ever since the scheme I rolled out the night Juliette married me, I had been on edge, wound tightly with no way of releasing the tension. As soon as Juliette fell asleep tonight, I’d make my way down into the gym and release some of my pent-up energy.
The last thing I wanted was to take it out on my new, young wife.
Not that I was old by any means. At twenty-eight, I was only a few years older than her. Despite that, I felt ancient sometimes.
“I guess a bath,” she replied. “It doesn’t really matter.”
I turned on the faucet and reached out for the toiletries that were brought in for her. I stared at the five different variations of the bath bubbles. They all looked the same, just different colors.
The sound of the water splashing filled the bathroom, echoing against the tile. Dumping one bottle into it, I watched bubbles fill the tub as I held the empty container in my hand.
“You dumped that whole thing into it?” Juliette’s voice came from behind and I sent a glance over my shoulder. She stood before me in the short robe I’d had them put in the closet for her. Her legs appeared awfully long for the tiny thing that she was.
“Yes.”
“We might have a bubble disaster on our hands,” she said with a teasing smile. My heart skipped a fucking beat. It thundered in my chest with longing. Was Juliette making a joke?
Dark hair covered her neckline begging to break free from the edge of her robe, brushing against her shoulders. Fuck, her skin looked soft and there was nothing I wanted more than to touch her. I wanted to feel every inch of her. Hear her moans. Feel her writhe underneath me in pleasure.
My gaze flickered behind her where the wedding dress lay in a pile on the floor.
“I’m gonna burn it,” she remarked, following my line of sight.
“It’s your dress,” I noted dryly.
She narrowed her eyes at me, but she said nothing else. I stood up and pointed to the right. “Towels are in that cabinet.”
Leaving her, I walked out of the bathroom. I needed an intense workout to kill this desire for her. At least for tonight.
She didn’t move until I left, shutting me out with a soft click.