Chapter 15 Dante
DANTE
“Do not leave my side for any reason.” When the breathtaking goddess sitting next to me doesn’t respond, I look up from the messages I’ve been exchanging with the trio of guards chaperoning us tonight.
One of them sits in the front seat next to the driver, while the other two are in a separate car in front of us. I’m not taking any chances.
Sophia’s head bobs. “Everything is going to be fine. Nothing will happen out in public at an event like this. And if we go into hiding, scared of our own shadows, it will mean giving my brother what he wants.”
It’s the same speech she’s given me for the better part of a week, ever since I told her we’re not taking risks for the sake of public image, and she wasted no time disagreeing. I was hoping I’d find an ally in Papa, but he agreed with her.
I think he likes her spirit.
So do I. But at what cost?
So much for having a say in things now that I’m taking the leadership role in the family. Papa always warned me that my future wife would call the shots, whether I liked it or not. And there I was, thinking I’d be the exception.
If we weren’t dealing with a loose cannon like my brother-in-law, I might not care the way I do.
The fact that he’s gone silent in the ten days since his package arrived has me holding my breath, waiting for the next time he reaches out.
We got nowhere searching for the unmarked black van in the traffic camera network.
Our guys have questioned several of Alessandro’s closest associates, but nothing has come out of that, either.
He’s a fucking phantom, hovering over us. Invisible but present.
It matters to Sophia that we go on with our lives, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s craving a little excitement after being locked down in the compound ever since the night the package arrived.
I won’t act like seeing her dressed up in skin-tight black satin is a chore.
I am not suffering in the back seat of the Mercedes, taking in every inch of the inky fabric that looks like it was poured over her, highlighting every curve, gleaming with every move she makes
Her blue eyes sparkle when they meet mine. She’s nervous, it’s obvious. I’ve doubted all week that she’s really feeling as confident as she pretends.
But even if she is pretending, she’s doing her best, and that means matching her energy for her sake.
“You’re gorgeous,” I murmur, leaning in and letting her sweet, floral perfume tickle my nose before I run my lips over her bare shoulder. “I don’t want to ruin your makeup.”
Her full, glossy lips curve in a sly smile when she turns her head toward me. “You can ruin me a little,” she whispers, searching for my kiss.
It takes nothing—the slightest touch of her mouth on mine—to make the beast inside me roar. There’s only one word going through my head by the time my tongue slides against hers and makes her whimper. More.
Later.
The car slows to a stop, and the sharp throat-clearing from the front seat reminds me where we are. There’s a job to do tonight. Goodwill to spread.
And for now, I settle on taking her hand and placing it over the erection I need to get under control before I step out of this car. “We’ll get back to this later,” I whisper, twitching under her palm when her teeth graze her lip.
This night can’t go by fast enough.
* * *
“Believe me,” Sophia sighs. “You don’t want any part of this right now.” She squeals when I reach for her anyway as she passes me on her way into the house. “I’m serious! That ballroom was an oven.”
She looks me up and down over her shoulder, eyes narrowed. “I think you need to wash up before I come near you, now that I think about it.”
Like I give a shit. “How about I bend you over the stairs right now?”
When she scurries up, I follow, growling. “I mean it!” she insists with a giggle. “I feel gross. I won’t be long…”
At the top of the stairs, she makes a left instead of a right, going to my room.
Like she didn’t think about it, which makes sense, since she’s slept in my bed every night since the first time I tucked her into it.
It started as a way to keep her close when too much pain was too close to the surface, but it’s becoming a routine.
Though there is a difference tonight.
Lately, she’s been waiting for me downstairs the way she did that first night, and we make our way to bed together.
She hasn’t invited herself before tonight.
I don’t want to correct her, either. This is where I want her—in my bed, close to me.
I can’t remember the last time I slept as well as I do next to her.
She brings me peace. Comfort. There’s something sweet about waking up with her essence clinging to the sheets, and sweetness is a new addition to my life, that I can’t help wanting more.
She took her phone from her little purse, and now she tosses both on the bed before she turns her back to me. “Unzip me?” she asks, sweeping her waterfall of chocolate waves over one shoulder.
The tease. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me right now, don’t you?” I whisper against the back of her neck as I lower the zipper one inch at a time, growing against her ass as electric tension fills the air. God, I want this woman.
“You better get undressed and join me in the shower,” she decides once the dress is unzipped and drops into a puddle around her feet.
She turns, now wearing nothing but a black lace thong.
Her full, luscious tits press against my chest once she winds her arms around my neck and offers a seductive smile that damn near takes my legs out from under me and makes my dick throb.
“Because I’m not sure I want to wait much longer for you, either. ”
Taking her ass in both hands, I pull her in against my straining cock. “Go in, get yourself ready for me,” I growl, digging my fingers into her supple flesh. “I’ll be right there.”
Nothing can stop me, especially after watching her ass sway as she enters the bathroom. The shower is running by the time I’ve taken off my shoes and dropped them next to the bed. Her soft humming fills the air soon after the shower door opens and closes.
It’s good to hear.
She’s happy, or at least feeling like it in the moment.
The ballroom was overcrowded and stuffy, and I know she had just as much on her mind as I had on mine, but she was a complete professional tonight.
It feels strange, thinking of her that way—she’s my wife, this isn’t her job.
But when she’s out there with me, she’s representing the family, and she did us proud.
Nobody would have guessed what’s going on under the surface.
She might be a solid match for me, after all. I need somebody who can hold their shit together when stress is high. But you already knew that, didn’t you?
Her phone lights up while I’m unbuttoning my slacks, and I look down. It isn’t on purpose. It’s a reflex. Something lights up, and you look down to see why it happened.
And you might see a text you weren’t supposed to see.
From your wife’s ex-boyfriend.
Enzo: You looked beautiful tonight.
“What the fuck?” I whisper while Sophia’s humming continues in the next room.
Why the fuck is Enzo texting her, and how would he know what she looked like tonight?
He answers my question with a follow-up message.
Enzo: I was supposed to attend, but I decided I can’t trust myself to be a good boy around you. I was watching from the corner when you walked into the hotel, and you took my breath away.
The world is going red. Soon, the humming and splashing from the shower fade, thanks to the pounding in my ears.
I don’t know who I want to tear into first. The fuckface sending these messages, or the woman who has clearly been entertaining them.
This doesn’t read like a first text after years of silence.
She has his fucking contact programmed into her phone.
Careful. Control.
Here I am again, clinging to sanity by my fingertips.
All of the old impulses bubble under the surface.
Wouldn’t it be nice to let go? Give in to the rage licking the edges of my consciousness like flames. I could say to hell with the consequences and indulge all of my worst, darkest desires.
“Earth to Dante.”
It’s her voice that cuts through the storm that’s started to rage, though it doesn’t calm anything. A hurricane is tearing through me by the time I turn toward Sophia with her phone in my hand. She’s standing in the doorway, wrapped in my robe, wearing a confused smile.
“I got worried. What’s taking so long?”
That’s when she notices what I’m holding. “Why do you have my phone? Are you trying to go through it? Dante—”
“One question…” I’m almost shaking from the strain of holding myself back, choosing every word carefully for fear of what will happen otherwise as I cross the floor. “Did you send the first text to your ex, or did he reach out first?”
She’s still gaping in shock when I thrust the phone her way. “Unlock it. I want to see every message. Don’t think about refusing.”
“You’re out of your fucking mind.” She snatches the phone from me, closing her hand around it, pressing it to her chest. “You’re sick. You don’t even have the first idea.”
“I would if my wife would stop hiding shit from me. He was watching us tonight,” I tell her, making her eyes go wide. Her surprise seems sincere. “He can’t trust himself to be a good boy around you, so he steered clear. What else has he sent you, and what have you said back?”
And why do you need him when you have me?
No. I’m not asking that question. I’m not stooping that low.
“You know what the saddest part about this is?” she whispers, flat and low. “There really is an innocent explanation. And I might have given it to you if you didn’t come at me the way you did.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” I snarl, taking her by the wrist and squeezing until she winces. “Unlock the phone. Show me why he thinks it’s okay to send you what he just did.”
Her eyes dart over my face, a flush creeping up her neck and staining her cheeks, while her chin starts to tremble. Pain? Disappointment? Do I give a fuck?
“You would have to ask him why he thinks it’s okay,” she whispers. “I’ve never encouraged it. I’ve been trying to get Alessandro’s number from him ever since he first reached out. Especially after we got the package, I thought I could help.”
“Bullshit,” I snap. “That’s very convenient.”
Her lip lifts in a sneer. “You can decide whether you want to believe me or you want to make a raging jackass out of yourself. I honestly don’t care,” she concludes. “But I am sorry for you.”
It’s almost too sad to be funny. Barking out a laugh, I shake my head. “Sure, turn this all around on me. Straight out of the cheater’s playbook.”
“Cheater?” Her mouth falls open. “You’re pathetic. Now I see why your Papa had to arrange a marriage for you, since I can’t imagine why anyone would want to subject themselves to you willingly.”
My head snaps back like she fired a bullet instead of a perfectly chosen insult. Only a bullet might end my torture instead of bringing it all rushing back, sharp and clear, “I could never be with a man like you. You’re vile. You’re an animal.”
Monica’s final words to me.
A reminder of how I wouldn’t have lost her if I hadn’t pushed her away in the first place.
I wasn’t behind the wheel of the car that killed her, but I might as well have been. She wouldn’t have been with some fast-driving nobody if I didn’t practically shove her into his arms by being who I was.
The hand gripping Sophia’s wrist loosens, and I back away before I can do something unforgivable. “Get out of my sight if you don’t want me to hurt you,” I mutter between ragged breaths.
She’s smart enough to do what she’s told, slamming the door in the other room while I go to the bathroom sink to splash cold water on my face before I tear her to pieces.
Not that it would make a damn bit of difference.