29. Juliette
Juliette
I loved the way Dante drove. It was infinitely him.
His hand wrapped around the wheel while he sat in the seat with confidence, taking us home.
Home.
Twice in the short span of twenty-four hours I let that word come to the surface.
Maybe Dante felt like home because it was just the two of us.
Dad had made a home with Davina and their child.
I still had a room in his home and Aunt Aisling’s but they were both mostly empty.
Aunt Aisling lived with Dante’s father, mostly in New York, Wynter lived with her husband, and Davina spent most of her time with Dad in their penthouse.
Probably getting freaky , I thought wryly.
And then there was my brother, Killian. I loved him, but I honestly had no fucking idea where his head was or what he was up to.
His engagement to Branka Russo had been surprising and short-lived.
He didn’t seem heartbroken when she’d been kidnapped—in the middle of his wedding I might add—by Sasha Nikolaev.
Since then, he seemed to spend increasingly more time in Ireland.
Regardless, it left me alone for most of the time over the last year and a half. Which was fine when I went after the men who killed our parents. Or my rapists. But it was incredibly lonely in between.
I heard a buzz and I glanced at my husband behind the wheel.
“I think your phone’s ringing,” I remarked.
He shook his head. “It’s probably your phone.” He leaned over, reaching across my lap and opening the glove box. “I forgot to give it to you back in Vegas. Sorry.”
Handing it to me, I saw a list of missed calls and messages. “Jesus, has it been a week or just a day?”
Dante chuckled. “You’re a popular girl.”
He remained silent as he drove and I scrolled through all the messages. Quickly typing back responses to my family, I assured them all I was good. In fact, I typed GREAT.
“Hey, you still have that photo we took?” I asked Dante. On the way out of the Prohibition bar, there was a booth and we took a selfie. One to leave on the wall behind and one for us. Except, I didn’t remember either one of us grabbing it.
He reached between us and pulled out the photo from the console. I took it and smiled. It was a goofy photo. My eyes crossed and his smile crooked, like we were both drunk as hell. I snapped a photo of it and sent it off to all of them.
*Went to a Prohibition bar. No, I didn't drink but it was totally gangster cool.*
First reply came from Dad and Davina.
Dad: *Don’t let him turn you into a gangster. I’ll break his bones.*
I chuckled, then read Dad’s message to Dante.
“He’d have to catch us first,” Dante joked. “We’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde. Unstoppable.”
Leaning forward, I reached for the stereo. “Maybe Beyoncé and Jay-Z playing while we run out of town with sirens blasting behind us,” I said, egging him on.
A deep, full-blown laugh vibrated through the space as I watched Dante, mesmerized. In the two years that I had known him, I had never heard him laugh like that. Fucking ever. And now he’d done it twice in one day, and I was addicted to the sound.
“I own most of the cops in Chicago, Wildling,” he uttered in an amused tone. “There’ll be no need to go flying out of town with cops chasing us, but if it’ll make you happy, I can arrange it.”
My phone buzzed and I lowered my eyes, smiling. “Nah, let’s just stay and light up this town.”
Ivy: *Yeah, learn some gangsta shit so we can be the best.*
Davina: *No. More. Criminal. Activities.*
I typed back my reply. *Okay, Stepmom.*
Grinning, I raised my eyes to find Dante eyeing me. “You look like you’ve done something bad,” he remarked.
“I called Davina ‘Stepmom,’” I explained, still grinning. “She hates that.”
Dante smiled, his expression unreadable as he watched me. For the rest of the ride, he hardly said another word and I focused on clearing out my text messages.
The next message was from Kian—it was short and to the point. As always. I stiffened, my brows furrowing. * Another killer found .*
A shudder rolled through me. Somewhere deep down, I loved making every single one of the bastards pay. From what I’d learned, my biological father had been a good killer in his day. It seemed I inherited that quality.
“Is it weird for you, now that you know Liam’s not your biological father?” Dante inquired.
“Weird how?” I rasped.
His head tilted to the side, holding my gaze for a moment before returning it to the road.
“Not really,” I said quietly. “He raised me and Killian. He made sure we were all safe. He saved us from a burning house.”
“But?”
It didn’t surprise me that he sensed there was more to it.
“I wonder who they were,” I admitted softly. “Not the names. I know those now. But who they were.”
I knew about my father’s reputation, the violence. I knew my mother loved to play piano and sing. But Liam wasn’t the one to reveal that information.
“I can get that information for you,” Dante offered.
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to think of how to respond. I had all the information on my birth parents now. I gathered some of it via torture and learned the rest of it all on my own by digging through Liam’s stuff.
“No.” He raised a brow, surprised at my response. “No, thank you,” I added.
Curiosity and something else washed over his features as I took in his side profile. But there was definitely amusement there. Whether at my manners or what, I didn’t know.
“I thought you wanted to know more information,” he said, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
“I do,” I breathed in a quiet voice. “I did. But not anymore. I’ve learned it all already.” The glance he cast my way was dark. Knowing. And I realized, he knew all there was about my birth parents. “But then so did you, isn’t that right?”
He nodded.
I swallowed. “It doesn’t worry you?”
After all, our parents’ sins became ours. Their enemies became ours. The people who had it out for my family could come after him too. A sliver of fear breathed into my lungs. I didn’t want anything happening to him—not because of me.
He caught my gaze, studying me for a moment, then turned back to the road.
“Juliette, I don’t give a shit who your parents are or were.
I married you . I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you dancing on top of that bar at The Eastside dressed in those ridiculous Irish flag colors with your friends. ”
My eyes widened. “Not in the casino?” I rasped, unable to form a full sentence.
“No. You were shaking your ass on top of your father’s bar wearing a sparkly orange minidress. When I saw you again in my casino, the deal was sealed. You were mine.”
His answer was a silent admission. There was one thing I couldn’t take away from my husband. He was honest, despite him telling me he’d already lied to me once. I was no angel in that scenario either. He didn’t bother with feigned emotions or niceties.
He pulled into the driveway of his mansion ten minutes later and something about it felt right . Something about him felt right. Nerves danced in the atmosphere. Heavy tension had settled in the space between us.
He leaned over, his minty breath like a breeze against my skin. “Am I scaring you, Juliette?”
My pulse fluttered. The pressure built. I swallowed, battling all these emotions and cravings within me. I was starting to realize that maybe the last two years with him had been a sort of foreplay, and we were always meant to get to this point.
My body wanted this man. My mind resisted him.
But I was quickly losing this battle. Each breath I took pulled me in the opposite direction.
Confusion grew. My breaths were labored. My heart thundered. It scared me that I wanted to experience it all with Dante knowing where it all led. To him on top of me. It’d find me cornered and my ugly fear would rear its head.
“Juliette?”
Something pounded in my chest. I couldn’t distinguish whether it was fear or something else.
“How many women have you had?” I breathed out, adrenaline buzzing in my ears. His eyebrows rose and I swallowed, averting my eyes. His thumb brushed across my lips and down my chin, until it followed the vein in my throat.
“Look at me.” My eyes immediately obeyed. Satisfaction washed over his expression. “Your pulse is racing,” he remarked. “Are you scared of me, Wildling?”
I scoffed softly. “No.”
His full lips curved into a smile. “Good,” he drawled. “That means you’re excited.”
His thumb swept over my fluttering pulse. My lips parted and our gazes locked. A heavy weight settled between my legs and another one in my chest, pounding. I pressed my thighs together and Dante’s eyes flickered to the movement.
“I can smell your arousal,” he rasped in a deep voice.
A breath escaped me and I leaned into his touch. He applied pressure against my pulse—not hard, but just gentle enough to feel him. None of this made sense.
“Do you want me, my wildling?” he purred.
I swallowed hard, then nodded. “Because I want you so fucking much that the thought of living without you makes me want to end it all.” A sharp intake of air into my lungs filled the small space between us.
Letting myself drown in his darkness, I stared at him.
My husband. The man who I’d avoided for the past two years.
“You and I, Wildling, we were meant to be together.”
Then slowly, painfully slowly, he closed the distance between us. He captured my top lip between his, kissing me with the sweetest pull. Then he pulled back. His face was barely an inch from mine, yet it was too far away.
My heart fluttered like it had wings and my pulse skidded to a stop.
Time stilled. My mouth tingled. And he waited.
He wanted me to decide what the next step should be.
My heartbeat danced lightly for the first time in such a long time. I wanted to see it through. It was scary. It was thrilling.
A tremor ran through me and I leaned forward, our breaths intermingling. My eyelids fluttered and a strong need pulsed through my veins again, never stopping. My lips brushed against his softly.
A single word vibrated through my bloodstream. Mine.
He parted his lips and I slid my tongue inside. A groan came from deep in his chest and his hand came around my nape, gripping it tightly. I moaned, my fingers finding themselves around his neck. He sucked on my tongue. I licked every inch of his mouth.
His hand cupped the back of my head while his kiss turned rougher. More possessive. My blood drummed in my ears, but it wasn’t in fear. It was in pure desire, fueling something deep inside me.
I felt complete. Consumed. So much so that it terrified me.