57. Juliette
Juliette
A heavy floral scent lingered in the air.
It smelled nice but not as good as the rain and forest one that I had grown accustomed to. I blinked against the sunlight pouring through the windows and slowly the hotel room came into focus.
“What the—”
Yellow daisies filled my hotel room on every conceivable surface.
It felt like the sun had crawled into this space and just decided to shine in here.
I inhaled deeply, my eyes fluttering shut.
It used to be my favorite scent until I ran into Dante.
Now I longed for the green, herbaceous scent that lingered on his skin.
“Are we ready for breakfast?” came a familiar voice.
My eyes shot open to find Dante leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets, watching me with that glimmering gaze I had grown accustomed to.
The boy who’d kept my hot-pink scrunchie. The boy who saved me.
But also a boy who drugged you , my mind warned.
My brows furrowed. I didn’t want to think about that right now. I wanted to enjoy the gesture.
“Did you do all this?” I asked instead.
He nodded. “Your favorite flower.”
“Stalker,” I murmured, but I couldn’t keep the smile from my face.
He grinned. “You know it.” Then his expression turned serious.
“It’s the first day.” When I raised my eyebrow in question, he continued to explain, “It’s the first day of the rest of our lives.
I’ll court you.” I couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle to which he rolled his eyes.
“I’ll wine and dine you. We’ll take it slow, and I’ll show you that we fit.
You and me, we were meant to be. You belong to me and I belong to you.
Like cacti belong in the desert. Like flowers belong to spring. Inevitable.”
I pulled my knees to my chest and studied him. The silence filled the yellow space and set my nerve endings on edge. His words resonated deep inside me. When I was with him, I felt at peace. He was home. Longing and belonging wrapped in my heart, my soul, and my life. So why did I not say anything?
“So, hungry?” he asked again and I nodded. It took three minutes for him to have a cart full of food rolled into the room, along with orange juice, cranberry juice, and apple juice.
When the waiter left, I couldn’t help but tease, “That drink assortment is for children. We should have gotten mimosas.”
“You won’t find me drinking mimosas,” he remarked dryly, making a plate. “Besides, you gave up alcohol. Remember?”
Unintentionally, he brought something up that now filled the air with tension, stretching the oxygen thin. But I couldn’t let it ruin us .
My brows furrowed. It was the first time that I truly thought about us as an item. All our secrets were out in the open. Most of our ghosts had been laid to rest.
He handed me a plate full of my favorite foods. Parfait. Eggs Benedict. Mixed fruit cup.
“You're going to eat with me too, right?” I didn’t want to eat alone.
“If you want me to.” I nodded and he made himself a plate. It was one thing I’d learned. Dante always had an appetite. The two of us started eating in a weirdly comfortable silence. It was still tense, but it was pleasant.
I peered under my lashes at him. He was uncharacteristically quiet, seeming lost in his thoughts.
“I read your letters,” I said softly.
Dante’s shoulders tensed and he stilled before he drew his eyes up to meet mine. Something lifted the darkness behind his gaze. Something volatile. Raw.
Oh. He was letting me see his vulnerability.
It was something I wasn’t accustomed to seeing on him. He always hid behind his smirk and layers upon layers of arrogance. Seeing this side of him put me on edge.
“So where do we go from here?” I asked, since he remained silent.
A sad smile curved his lips. “You tell me, Wildling.”
I swallowed, pain hollow in my chest. When I didn’t say anything, unable to find my voice, he asked, “Do you want to end this?”
A shudder rippled down my spine. An invisible blade lodged itself between my ribs and refused to budge.
“What if I said yes?” I croaked.
Dante’s usual mask slipped for a flicker of a second before it was back on, hiding even a hint of whatever emotion my answer created.
“Please, Wildling, give us a chance,” he said softly. His throat was flexing with a hard swallow. His eyes flickered with longing as they searched my face for something I wanted to give. I really did, but I couldn’t get past the fact that he drugged me.
Drugged me!
“I can’t,” I rasped, wrapping my arms around myself, chilled to the bone. My pulse roared through my veins. Pain slashed through my body. “Everything is so fucked up. I have more people to find and kill. And I’m just—”
Tired. Disheartened. Alone.
“I’ll help you.” My eyes found his, nothing but sincerity there. “You want to kill those motherfuckers? I’ll help you find every single one of those men and tear them to pieces.”
Staring at him, I felt like I’d lived a hundred lifetimes, and I hadn’t even lived a quarter of a century. Maybe Wynter was right. I kept too many things unsaid. And it wasn’t helping anyone, including myself.
“You stole my free will,” I rasped. “When you drugged me, you stole me . You took my right to consent, to function, to defend myself. Just like those—” My voice cracked.
The comparison didn’t feel right despite everything that had happened.
Dante never forced himself physically. “I can forgive a lot, but drugging me… It’s hard for me to forgive it. I killed those boys who drugged me.”
And Dante killed Travis. For me. He made him suffer. He tortured him. For me.
“Do you want to kill me, Juliette?” The tone of his voice indicated he’d let me kill him if it meant my peace and well-being. Except, it wouldn’t bring me peace. It’d hurt just as much. No, scratch that. It’d hurt even more.
“No, I don’t want to kill you.” He became too important to me.
I didn’t know when or how, but he found his way so deep inside my head and my soul, it’d be impossible to live without him.
“There’s been too much killing.” I swallowed, the admission suffocating me.
“I killed my best friend’s father,” I whispered.
Dante exhaled a heavy breath, his brows drawn tight over his eyes. “And I killed my mother.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it, unable to find words. Although in my humble opinion, she seemed to deserve it.
“Is it because she hurt you and Priest?” I asked eventually, my heart squeezing for the two little boys I’d met in those letters. He nodded. “Why didn’t your father help?”
He stared out the window, his face stony. “He was busy running the Syndicate and Chicago. He was rarely around, and when he was, he was absent. It’s the DiLustro curse. Obsessing over women we cannot have.”
Bitterness laced his voice.
My appetite gone, I pushed my plate aside.
“You drugged me,” I breathed. “I just can’t—” Move past it. Forgive. Forget.
Dante flinched. “I wish I could turn back time and change what I did,” he said hoarsely. “I never meant to hurt you.” My chest ached. For him. For me. It made it hard to breathe. Determination crossed his face. “But I’m not giving you up.”
“What if we’re just not meant to be?”
Dante’s chest heaved like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. “We are meant to be. You and me. Why would fate keep throwing us at each other?” I shook my head, unsure. Hesitantly. “You saved me, Wildling. Just like you said you would. But not from the bullet. You saved me from the darkness.”
His eyes met mine, his face full of determination. He stood up and made his way to the door.
Without looking back, he called over his shoulder at me. “I have men watching the hotel. You’ll hear from me, wife. I’ll make it up to you.” He turned to face me. “I’ll wait until you trust me again.”
And with that, he left me.