44. Dante
Dante
A nother week had gone by.
Juliette and I fell into a routine. We’d have breakfast together, then I’d go to work.
Sometimes she’d meet me for lunch in the city.
Other days, she’d work on her St. Jean d’Arc School building project—a facility to provide education for future heathens of mayhem—in collaboration with the girls.
And then we’d end the day by having dinner together. Sometimes we’d eat out, other days in.
Priest joined us today for dinner at our place.
After dinner, we made our way into the pool room and I watched Juliette attempt to play against my brother. I offered to help Juliette, but she refused it. It was her against Christian.
“Christian, just remember—” Juliette loved to taunt. “You lose and we’ll put some Irish gangster portraits around your house.” My brother gave her a dry look and she smiled sweetly. “It’s the first and last time I'm calling you by your first name. I just wanted to see how it sounded.”
“Actually, with Wynter around, I hear that name more than I have in all my life.” It was true. We’d called him Priest for so long, we rarely ever used his given name. But now, it has circulated more and more. “It doesn’t bother me.”
My wife wedged her tongue between her teeth as she positioned herself. She was fucking adorable.
“It’s a nice name.” We both glanced her way, trying to determine whether she was joking or not. She must have felt our eyes on her because she turned her head and smiled softly. “Seriously, it’s a nice name. Priest is kind of scary. But Christian… well, it’s perfect.”
“Woman, you’re married to me,” I reminded her in a growl.
Juliette grinned. “Your name is perfect too, hubs.” Hubs?
It was the first time she’d call me that, and fuck, I loved it.
She returned her attention to the pool table.
“But your brother has to tell me what’s bothering him if not me calling him by his name.
” It didn’t surprise me she picked up on it.
“I… Well, I don’t want to repeat it. We’re family now and I only agitate family a certain way.
” She rolled her eyes playfully. “Just ask my brother.”
I didn’t think my brother would answer her. I certainly wouldn’t divulge his aversion to the Irish. It was his story to tell, not mine.
“Come on, Wildling.” I put my hands over hers, my chest to her back. It had my groin brushing against her backside and I had to stifle a groan. Way to get hard while we had company. “Let me help you get this game finished. Or my brother will be here all night.”
And while I loved my brother, I’d rather be alone with my wife. “Hubs, your brother is always welcome. Of course he can stay all night.”
I scoffed. There was nothing on this earth that would make my brother stay tonight.
“Irish gangsters.” Priest’s voice shattered the air. “I don’t like Irish gangsters. Or the Irish in general.”
Silence stretched. The pool game forgotten, Juliette let the pool stick fall to the table and she straightened up. I wrapped my arms around her, keeping her close. I didn’t think she’d do anything and Priest would never hurt her, but it was hard to overcome the instinct.
“I’m Irish,” Juliette reminded him softly.
Priest’s lips tugged up. “Not anymore. Now you’re one of us. You’re a DiLustro.”
She tilted her head, studying him. “Okay, but my parents were Irish.” I knew what would come next and so did Priest. Yet, he didn’t try to stop her.
“So is your mom. At least partly.” My brother’s jaw clenched and his eyes turned a few shades darker.
“My dad—Liam—told me something that stayed with me. Take it or leave it, although I hope you’ll at least think about it. ”
Priest’s gaze locked on my wife. It was probably the first time he saw her without her barriers up and constant snarky comments.
“What’s that, Jules?”
It was right then and there, I knew. She was part of us—our family. Nothing and nobody would ever change that.
“He said it didn’t matter what nationality, race, background you were.
There are rotten eggs everywhere, but they don’t make the whole batch rotten.
Of course, the first time he passed on that little piece of wisdom, we happened to be on an actual farm where I was hunting for actual eggs. The farmer wasn’t happy.”
Laughter followed. Ghosts still lingered—more so around my brother than me—but the promise of the future shone brighter.
* * *
Most of the nights that followed, we found ourselves in the bedroom exploring each other’s bodies. I fucking loved that Juliette was so curious—handcuffs or no. I didn’t mind. She was curious about everything. Sex. My body. Even my work.
Toward the end of the week, we stayed in. My father and Juliette’s aunt came for dinner. Although now that we were all seated around the dining room table, I wished we’d gone to a restaurant.
It was easier to limit the length of the visit when you were in a public place.
My father looked good. Happy. So did Juliette’s aunt, Aisling. It had taken them decades to get to this point. I just hoped it wouldn’t take Juliette and me decades to get to our happily ever after. We were close, I thought. Although, neither one of us had spoken those three little words.
I love you.
I’d loved her for so long, it was part of my every heartbeat. Juliette was a different story though. She kept herself guarded. I could understand it now that I knew what happened to her. She dealt with it on her own, building her walls, and it’d take a while to break them down.
“You look good.” My father sat next to me, smiling. “I’m happy for you.”
I loved him. I really did. But I resented him.
It was hard not to. I resented that he was so distant during our life that he never noticed Mother taking her anger out on my little brother.
I resented that more than anything. If she wanted to beat the crap out of me—fine.
But she’d put Priest through hell and my father had been completely oblivious.
I wasn’t even sure that he’d understand if I told him. Not that I ever would. I’d given my little brother my word.
Juliette must have sensed my tension because her hand came to rest on my thigh, squeezing it gently. She understood. I knew deep down—even without spoken words—that she understood it.
“Thanks.”
“So what have you two been up to?” Aisling asked.
“Just stuff,” Juliette answered, smiling. “We’re just trying to get some kind of routine going.”
“Good, good,” Father said. “Routine is good for the kids.”
My wife froze.
“It’s too soon to talk about children,” I stated calmly. “We just got married and want to have time for us before we decide on kids.”
Tension left Juliette’s shoulders and she sighed a relieved breath.
Aisling chimed in with a wide smile. “You’re right,” she agreed. “Wynter says you’re busy with the school project. I am so excited to see how it turns out. St. Jean d’Arc will be something unique for sure.”
Juliette met my gaze, then returned her attention back to her aunt. “I’m excited too. It will be a huge accomplishment.”
“We’ll all be there for the opening,” I told her playfully. “Just think of all the troublemakers like you and your friends stirring up trouble. I can’t wait to watch the four of you scold them.”
The dinner concluded without any disasters. No reminders of past wrongdoings or ghosts.
After our guests left, Juliette changed into a tiny pair of silk shorts and a matching tank top.
She preferred to sleep in as little as possible.
I preferred her sleeping naked and usually, by the time the sun came up in the morning, that’s exactly what she was, in my arms where she belonged, no less.
It was hard to keep my gaze away from her. She sat next to me, her bare legs folded and scrolling through her phone.
We moved into the small living room. It was her favorite room in the house. The signs of her were slowly overtaking the house. Her scrunchie in the key bowl. Lotion on the nightstand. Her ChapSticks. She seemed to have one in every room.
“Let’s play pool tonight,” she uttered out of the blue.
I cocked my eyebrow at the unexpected announcement.
“I need to work on my skills and you are an expert. Your brother said you won every pool game except for one. Who better to teach me?” My lips tugged up.
She had an amazing memory and cataloged everything anyone ever told her.
At least it seemed that way. “Unless you prefer I find another teach—”
I didn’t let her finish. “I’m the only one allowed to teach you anything,” I growled.
“So let’s play,” she remarked. “We have nothing better to do.”
“I certainly have better things in mind,” I said in a low voice. “I thought you said you don’t care for playing pool.”
She shrugged. “Correction, I don’t care for playing pool with others. You might be an exception.”
An amused breath left me, picturing Juliette reading rules on shooting pool.
“So, yes?” she asked, her eyes glimmering with hope.
“As if I could ever refuse you.”
She swung her legs and jumped to her feet, squealing in delight. She pressed a kiss to my mouth, grabbed my hand, then dragged me toward the other side of the house where the pool room was.
We entered the billiard lounge and Juliette’s eyes darted left, right, then back to the left.
“I really like this room,” she remarked. “Every time I step inside, I feel like I’m in a bar.”
“I know you’ve seen plenty of those,” I retorted, tapping her lightly on the ass. “After all, it was where I first spotted you.”
She gave me one of those carefree smiles and my heart skipped a beat. It only happened around my wife whenever she smiled or laughed.
“I didn’t see you,” she commented as she took the room in. There were four armchairs, a fully stocked minibar and of course, the professional pool table. The walls were decorated with movie posters in frames from movies that were filmed in the States. Scarface . The Untouchables . The Godfather .
“I meant to tell you when your brother was here. This decor is very original,” she said, her gaze lingering on the famous mobsters.
I grinned. “I knew you’d like it.”
“I can’t help but notice they are all Italian.” She sauntered through the room to the pool cue. “If I win against you, you have to put up a poster for Gangs of New York .”
I barked out a laugh. “You got it, Wildling.”
She was a quick study. Twenty minutes of instruction later, a bit of practice, and she was ready. Not to beat me in a game of pool, but to at least play against me.
Juliette bent over the table, holding the pool stick, trying to hit the nine ball. Her tongue was wedged between her lips in concentration as her eyes narrowed on the ball. She missed the first one. It was my turn next. I sent the ball into the pocket.
She moved and I flicked a curious glance her way. “What? It’s my turn,” she remarked, then seeing my expression, she added hesitantly, “Right? The rules are kind of confusing.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her she wouldn’t get a turn until I missed getting the ball into the pocket. So I straightened up and let her take a turn.
She positioned herself again, bending over the table.
“Want me to help you?” I offered.
She threw me a glance over her shoulder. “You trying to make me lose?”
I grinned. “Never.”
“Okay, then help me,” she caved. I came up behind her and leaned over her, my chest pressing up against her back. She hadn’t been successful sending any of the balls into the pockets so far. My hand guided Juliette’s as we sent her ball flying into the pocket.
For a second, Juliette’s eyes widened and she stared at the table as if she expected the ball to reappear. Then she squealed enthusiastically, turning her head and pressing a kiss to my cheek.
“Did you see that?” she gushed, glancing back at the pool table. “The ball went in.”
I smiled at her enthusiasm. “I did. Great job.”
“Okay, so now it’s your turn.” I nodded. “Do you want me to help you?”
I chuckled. “I’m okay.”
Positioning the cue tip of the pool stick on the table, I decided this game was best played if I saw a smile on my wife’s face. So I shot and missed. It was her turn again and I helped her. Needless to say, when we came to the end, my wife won.
“It seems I’ll be hanging up a movie poster from Gangs of New York ,” I concluded, watching her wide smile and her sparkling eyes. She shifted her body around so she could face me and my gaze glided down her body slowly.
Her nipples pushed through the thin material of her silky camisole. Her bare legs tempted me to touch them and leave marks.
And I stared at those blue eyes that reminded me of the Ionian Sea, feeling peace wash over me.
For the first time in such a long time, I was happy.