51. Juliette
Juliette
D ante had been sitting at the bar for the past two hours, his gaze burning into the back of my head.
Goose bumps rose on my skin, running down my arms. I didn’t need to turn around to see that he was staring.
I could feel the intensity of his laser-focused stare as if he were touching me, electrifying me.
I forced myself to avert my eyes. His attention might have been exclusively on me, but I refused to give him my own, so I made a point to appear aloof and take in my surroundings instead. Honestly, I worried his burning gaze would weaken my resolve.
“So how long will this last?” Wynter asked. I shrugged my shoulders, taking a sip of my water. “Have you talked to him since—” Wynter’s voice trailed off, noting my glare.
“Talk to him about what?” I hissed under my breath. “The fact that he drugged me? That he forced me to marry him?” Wynter’s gaze drifted away from me uncomfortably. “Please don’t tell me that I should forgive him,” I uttered exasperatedly.
Wynter could be too sweet sometimes. We both grew up in a similar environment, but where she was always calm and collected, I was rash. Or maybe I’d become rash somewhere along the way because I had to deal with my anger issues on my own.
“I didn’t say that. It’s just that… well, you seemed to be happy and you’ve been raving about how sweet he is. Then just like that, you shut him out? Maybe you should talk it out.”
I narrowed my eyes on her. “So you think I should forgive him?”
Wynter just shrugged, her curls bouncing. With her pregnancy, I swore she had even more hair. Her face glowed, and every time I saw Basilio with her, his hand was on her belly like it was a crystal ball. It was annoying as fuck.
“Well, I don’t think you should just end it,” Wynter replied diplomatically.
“Of course you don’t,” I remarked wryly. “You were fine with your husband kidnapping you, instead of kicking him in the balls.”
I was being a bitch, I knew it. But wasn’t it time that we stood up for ourselves? These men, mafia or not, couldn’t just do whatever the fuck they felt like and expect us to fall in line. How would they like it if we drugged them? Kidnapped them?
An idea flickered to life—so deliciously wicked—but I quickly pushed it away.
Except, it remained lingering in the dark, fucked-up corner of my mind.
To give back what he had given me. Except, I didn’t think I could do it.
It was a violation of my free will. If I did it to him, it’d be a violation of his free will and it didn’t sit well with me.
“Why don’t you tell me why you are really upset?
” Wynter asked calmly. “Yes, I admit, it was wrong of him to do that. But he didn’t hurt you.
” The old panic suffocated my throat, slithered through my veins.
It took only one night to make a different person out of me.
It changed me forever. “Jules, talk to me. Please.”
A shudder rolled down my spine as I met my cousin’s eyes. Everything about Wynter made you want to smile. I didn’t see that same light in myself. Only darkness. And heavy secrets that dragged me down for far too long.
“Remember when—” I swallowed, my gulp audible.
“First year of high school, I went to a school party hosted by one of the families without you.” Wynter waited, watching me.
“There was no alcohol. Just dancing. Some boys and girls. I don’t know.
” I pushed my trembling hand through my hair, then got mad at myself for being weak.
Too sensitive. “Three boys slipped something into my drink. Then dragged me into a bedroom.”
It was as far as I could go. She’d get the picture.
My cousin’s hand came to mine and she squeezed it. “Oh my gosh, Jules.” She shook her head, squeezing my hand so hard, it turned purple. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I swept my tongue across my bottom lip. “I was ashamed. Scared. Maybe even in denial. I couldn’t believe it happened to me.”
“Who did it?” she hissed. “Basilio and Dante will—”
“They’re dead,” I told her calmly. “I killed two of them. Dante killed the third.”
Surprise washed over her expression and she blinked in confusion. “Dante knows?” I nodded. “He knew about the drugs and he drugged you?”
I shook my head. “No, he learned… afterwards.” When I couldn’t sleep with him. I kept that piece of information to myself. “Don’t tell Dad. Or your mom.” She shook her head, her curls bouncing. “Don’t tell anyone about any of this,” I added.
I didn’t want anyone going after Dante. That was reserved only for me. And it turned out, I didn’t have the stomach to torture him. You don’t have the stomach or the heart to torture him? my mind asked, mockingly.
Silence stretched.
“Well, there are two options as I see them,” Wynter answered, interrupting the silence.
“You can work it out with him and set some boundaries. Or you can live a separate life and never have a relationship with another man.” When my eyebrows shot up to my hairline, she chuckled softly.
“He’ll never allow you to have another man. You realize that, right?”
I grumbled. “Well, then he can suffer and not have another woman.” I knew I was proving my stubbornness but I was past caring.
“Okay, whatever you say, Jules.”
She didn’t believe it. By the look on my cousin’s face, I could tell she thought eventually Dante would get another woman. A mistress.
My jaw clenched so tight, it made my temples throb. “Well, if he gets a woman, I’ll show him exactly how I operate,” I hissed.
And I meant it. This was a two-way street, motherfucker.
* * *
As if the universe heard my vengeful thoughts, from the corner of my eye, a vibrant red dress caught my attention.
As if in a daze, I watched a gorgeous blonde saunter her way through the bar and straight to Dante and Basilio. Neither man turned until the woman said something.
Slowly, like they were synchronized, the two men glanced over their shoulders. Basilio’s eyes lingered on the woman for a fraction of a second, before he turned back to his bourbon or whatever he was drinking.
I held my breath watching Dante. Whatever the woman said had him shaking his head. But she wasn’t leaving. Instead she leaned forward, giving my husband a glimpse of her generous cleavage. To Dante’s credit, he didn’t lower his gaze to it.
One point to Dante DiLustro , I thought wryly.
But then her hand came to his forearm, the red-painted nail skimming over his suit jacket
Oh, no she didn’t! Not my fucking husband.
A buzzing rang in my ears, high-pitched and piercing. A red mist coated the room, and before I realized what I was doing, I was by the bar, violating every personal-space rule imaginable.
My hand wrapped around her hair and pulled. Gasps traveled through the room but I ignored them. All my attention was on this bimbo hitting on my husband.
“Do you see his hand?” I asked in a hiss.
“What the fuck?” she screamed, trying to yank herself away from me. It only hurt her more, because I tightened my grip.
Her eyes darted to Dante, pleading for help. He didn’t move, that familiar smirk playing around his lips. Basilio, on the other hand, looked almost impressed. Instead of ignoring the bimbo, his attention was now fully on her and me.
“I asked you a question,” I hissed, yanking on her hair harder. Wearing a red Valentino dress, I looked plain next to her which pissed me off even more.
“W-what?” she whimpered.
“Do you see his fucking left hand?” I gritted.
“Yes.”
“What do you see?”
“Who is this fucking crazy bitch?” she cried.
“Watch it,” Dante warned, his tone quiet and dangerous. “That’s my wife you’re talking to.”
Her expression shattered. I didn’t care. Something about the way Dante said “my wife” had my chest warming up in an unreasonable way.
“Focus on me, bitch,” I drawled, still gripping her hair. “What do you see on his hand?”
Her eyes studied Dante’s hands frantically. “A-a ring?”
My lips curved into a sarcastic smile. “That’s right.
A ring. Which means he’s married.” Her eyes darted to Basilio and I yanked her attention back my way once again.
“He’s married too.” I leaned closer to her, our faces so close I could see her pores.
“If I see your filthy fucking fingers anywhere near my husband again, I’m gonna cut them clean off, then shove them up your ass. ”
I released her without warning and straightened up. I fought the urge to shove her, but instead I stood between her and Dante. Wynter would have to protect her own husband from greedy, unwelcome hands.
Her eyes darted to my husband and that made me want to smash her face against the bar. But I didn’t. Maybe because I had a better handle on my temper than I thought. Or maybe because Dante’s hand came to my ass, and strangely enough, I found it calming.
The woman wobbled away, her face pale and her eyes frantic.
I turned to look at my devious husband and found him grinning like a little boy on Christmas morning. The man acted like I had just given him the best gift ever.
“Don’t get too full of yourself,” I snapped at him, wiping that grin off of his face. “Just because I don’t want you anymore doesn’t mean you get to play with anyone else.”
And I walked away from him, terrified of the green monster he unleashed within me.