Chapter 7 Dante #2
If there’s one thing I’ve never dealt with very well, it’s being unfairly accused.
Mama used to tease me about my sense of fairness, joking that I would be the family’s first judge one day.
I was always a stickler for even the slightest perceived insult, and not only when I was the one being insulted.
If Luca was accused of doing something he didn’t do, I was the first person to stand up for him.
A familiar pressure builds in my chest. Stop it.
Control it. The version of myself that I have worked like hell to overcome is dangerously close to the surface, and the worst part is, it’s a sensation I’ve craved for too long.
There’s satisfaction in it. A sense of coming back to myself, in a way. Of no longer denying who I am.
“I could never be with a man like you.” Monica’s last words to me.
I’ve had to live knowing the woman I loved, the woman I wanted to build a future with, was so scornful toward me in those last minutes of her life. The man I used to be pushed her into another man’s arms, pushed her into that car, pushed her to…
And this is why those memories get locked away.
My heart is a few thuds away from bursting out of my chest.
In my head, I visualize ice water being thrown over a fire, leaving nothing but clouds of steam behind. Is this my future? Avoiding my wife for fear of her bringing out the worst in me?
Because the worst in me got someone killed.
And being witness to the carnage was the punishment I deserved.
“Well?” Sophia almost barks when I don’t answer quickly enough. “What is it, really? Are you so heartless that you could see me fighting back tears and pretend it wasn’t happening? Are you that disconnected from your humanity?”
She has no idea how I’ve disconnected myself. “I think you’re being a little dramatic, Sophia,” I mutter, turning around, planning on a shower that I hope will cool me off. I don’t have time for this shit.
“No!” she barks, sneakers slapping the floor. “Don’t turn your back on me.”
The beast inside me doesn’t snarl at her defiance.
It sits up straight, sniffing the air, glad for an opportunity to match her energy.
“Excuse me?” I ask with a soft laugh, turning on my heel again and bringing her up short only a few feet away.
She’s going to regret saying that. “I’m not some pissant Vitali you can get away with ordering around. ”
Her already flushed face darkens. “I’m not some pissant Santoro you can ignore when it’s convenient for you.”
“What was I supposed to do? Hold you in my lap? Stroke your hair, maybe?” I ask while she scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“Did it ever occur to you that what you interpreted as being ignored was me being concerned about the bastard who looked like he wanted to put a bullet between my eyes? Do you ever stop to think about what really goes on with people like us, Sophia? Or did Daddy keep you too sheltered for all of that?”
Her blue eyes go hard, and my dick starts to follow suit because God, there is something too tempting about the way her chest expands in a deep, shaky breath.
The way her shoulders roll back like she senses the challenge and can’t wait to face it.
“Trust me. He might’ve thought he kept me sheltered, but he failed.
Really, you’re a lot like him,” she decides, her head tipping to the side.
Excuse me while I vomit. “Oh? This I need to hear. Exactly how am I like your father?”
“Arrogant. You think your shit doesn’t stink.”
“Charming.” I snicker.
She waves a hand dismissively. “That’s only because you have your head so far up your ass, all you can smell is your own shit.
” When I scoff, she mimics me nastily. “And just like him, you consider it inconvenient to act like a human being. How many times over the past week of our marriage have you bothered treating me like an actual person instead of a transaction? I mean, last night was actually kind of nice before you decided to—”
“Do not…” I warn with a slashing motion of my hand. “Don’t blame me for the energy shifting because your boyfriend decided to show up at the wrong time. And don’t act like I was the one pissing on you to mark my territory, either,” I add, remembering what she said as soon as he was gone.
“He started it,” she whines in a nasal tone before snorting. “Do you know how you sound? I know this isn’t a ‘love match.’ ” She makes quotes around the term, rolling her eyes. “But you could at least treat me like a person. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Neither did I,” I grit out between sharp breaths. “Now is not the time to remind me.”
“Oh?” Her head tips to the side again, lips twisting in a smirk. “What, don’t like being reminded how Papa carries your balls around in his pocket?”
“Watch it,” I bark.
Her eyes flash fire now that she knows she hit a nerve. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it? I mean, something must have happened to your balls. You can’t even be bothered to…” The rest of the air in her lungs leaves all at once while her face falls. She went too far, and she knows it.
“What?” I challenge in a whisper. Something is happening in my head. Something dangerous. A familiar building of pressure, and I’m beyond tempted to let it explode. My willpower is fading fast by the time I urge, “Tell me.”
A tremor runs through her, and something shifts in her flushed face before she gives her head a quick shake. “Forget it. This is a waste of time.” She’s quick, but so am I, meaning I catch her easily when she tries to duck around me, like she wants to run.
I’ll be damned if that happens. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what you were going to say,” I insist, hauling her in.
“Let go.” She’s staring down at my hand, loosely gripping her bicep. She could pull free if she tried. I wouldn’t stop her. Taking hold of her was reflexive more than anything. Pride is the only thing stopping me from letting go of her now.
“Get your hand off me, Dante.” Jesus Christ. She’s shaking. There’s emotion straining her words.
My hand loosens, but she doesn’t run.
I have the chance to say, “Sophia, I wasn’t going to hurt you.” I’m not sure how I feel about her assuming I was, either.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” she replies, every word tight and crisp. “But I’m used to certain things happening when a man looks at me the way you just did. You went blank in the eyes.” Arching an eyebrow at my confusion, she asks, “Did you know you do that?”
That motherfucker. “He hurt you?” I mutter without asking who. I wouldn’t put a damn thing past her brother. When I imagine him putting his hands on her, a bitter taste fills my mouth, and my blood runs hotter—one more reason to put that animal down.
All she does is scoff before asking, “You assumed I’m talking about Alessandro? He’s not the only man in my family.”
Giorgio? I believe that too. “Not every man is like that.” However, I have it in me. That darkness. She saw it, meaning it was too close to the surface. I’m slipping up. “I wasn’t thinking about hurting you.”
There’s only one thing I’m thinking about, and I was moments away from it before she insulted me like a child. My gaze drifts to her mouth now, the lips whose taste I can’t forget. Would they taste the same now?
Her throat works before she asks, “What were you thinking about?” in a soft, unsure voice.
I was thinking about the way she effortlessly pushes my buttons, how great her ass looks in those shorts, and how my entire life depends on tasting those lips again.
A soft gasp is all she manages before I give in and let myself have what I want.
Strawberry. I was right. And they’re firm and full, and her bottom lip slides so easily between mine, so I can suck it softly before covering her mouth again, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue against hers. So sweet.
With a muffled groan, she pulls her head back, her hands pressed against my chest. “Wait. Just wait a second.”
Then all at once, she gathers my shirt in her fists and pulls me back down for more.
Oh, fuck, yes.
With one hand gripping her hip, I wind her ponytail around the other and hold her head in place for me to invade. But she’s invading me too. Her teeth clash with mine, and she’s going to tear my shirt soon as she fights for control. Everything has to be a matter of getting the upper hand.
Good luck. She’s going to learn who’s got the upper hand in this marriage. I’ll consider this the first lesson as I pull her tight against the erection growing in my shorts. Let her feel it. Let her know what she’s doing to me.
A deep, guttural moan vibrates in her throat.
I break the kiss to drag my tongue over the soft skin of that long, slim column.
“Oh fuck,” she whimpers, then shudders when I scrape my teeth over her skin next.
Her fingers dance through my hair, and the feeling sizzles through me, pooling in my balls, making me go rigid.
When was the last time I was swept up in something like this? It wasn’t this good then—nothing ever has been, either. I can’t remember hanging on the edge of desperation this way, ready to tear off her clothes and pound her until she screams.
And she would scream too.
She’s grinding against me now, urging me on. “Dante…” she whispers before turning her face to give me her mouth again.
Before I take it, I open my eyes. Those aqua orbs meet mine before they close, and she seeks out my kiss.
Fuck. I wish she hadn’t done that. I wish she hadn’t shown me, without words, how easy it would be to lose myself in her now.
To drown in those eyes, to take a step I can’t take back any more than I’ll be able to take it back when I inevitably break her heart.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taken a good, innocent heart and crushed it.
“That’s enough.” I have never been less sincere, shaking my head when she strains upward, fighting for more. “I mean it. That’s enough. This isn’t the place.”
God, she is so confused. Maybe even hurt, her eyes darting over my face like she’s waiting for the punchline. “I mean it,” I insist, running my hands through my hair when I would rather be running them under her clothes, peeling them away, making her knees shake.
“But, I thought we…” Her chest heaves with every ragged breath.
“This isn’t the place, and I’m already running late.” And you will thank me. Trust me. I’ll only hurt you.
I would tell her to find out for herself, but the girl who would know best has been in the ground for a long time.
I have to leave. I can’t spend another second in this room with Sophia, witnessing her confusion. Turning on my heel, I force myself to walk away from the first woman I’ve wanted so badly in a long time.
It’s the right thing to do.
I can’t fuck this up.
Though the ache in my chest when I remember the wounded look in her eyes makes me wonder if I already have.