17. Dante
DANTE
T he thing about doubt? It creeps in slowly.
It doesn’t knock on the front door. It slithers in through the cracks—underneath the floorboards, behind your ribs, wrapping itself around your throat so tight you don’t realize you’re choking until it’s too late.
That’s where I am tonight.
Drunk on doubt.
The house has the kind of silence that leaves your head wide open for the shit you’ve been trying not to think about. I step out of my room and see Cassie leaving Aria’s room.
I watch her from the doorway as she turns toward her room.
I should go back in and sleep. Should let this night settle into quiet.
But I can’t. I want nothing more than to hear the truth from Cassie herself.
My legs move before my brain does, stalking her down the hall, every step loud with the things I’m not saying. My fists clench at my sides. My jaw locks so tight it’s a wonder my teeth don’t crack.
She stops at her door, her hand on the knob, and I see the moment she senses me.
She tenses when she turns, giving me a once-over with a wary look in her eyes. She’s signaling she’s had a long day and wants to get to bed, and while I’d love that for her, I need her to myself for a little while. Especially after what I found last night.
That photo—my teenage face staring back at me like it could have been Aria in another lifetime.
I can’t unsee it. I can’t un-know it.
I’ve been quiet for a while now, but I can’t hold it in any longer.
“Dante?” Cassie’s eyes narrow, like she already knows I’m wound too tight.
“We need to talk.”
Her arms fold tight across her chest, chin tilting up. “Now’s not the time, Dante. It’s late.”
I step in, closing the space between us until there’s nothing but heat. “Yeah, but you’ve been working all day.”
She stiffens but doesn’t move away, doesn’t tell me to leave. That’s enough of an invitation for me.
I grab her wrist gently, just enough to guide her backwards into my room. The one place I still have control, where I don’t feel like I’m losing my goddamn shit.
“You going to keep running?” I ask in frustration. “Or are you going to tell me the truth?”
Her chin lifts and her eyes blast open. And her voice? It fucking wavers. “About… what?”
I could push it and watch her crumble under the weight of three years of lies. But something stops me.
Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s not wanting to hear her say it out loud, make it real when I’m still figuring out how to breathe around it.
Maybe I’m not ready either.
“I don’t know what you’re hiding, Cass…” I step in, crowding her, my palm sliding along her waist, fingers curling into the soft cotton of her dress, “…but I’m going to find out.”
Her mouth opens, but the words stall, hovering between us like smoke, thick with all the things neither of us are saying.
The space between us hums, stretched tight, every molecule charged like the storm’s about to break. I watch her chest rise and fall, quick, shallow, her pulse flickering wildly at the base of her throat.
One more step and there’s no coming back.
Yeah, I’ve got no brakes where she’s concerned—and I’m about to run this straight off the edge.
My hand slides from her waist up to her jaw, fingers threading into her hair. Soft, wild strands tangle through my grip as I tip her face toward mine.
I feel the tension ripple off her, the fight warring with the fire.
“Say something.” My thumb grazes the curve of her cheek. “Say anything—so I don’t do something we can’t take back.”
But her lips part, and instead of words, all I get is a little whimper, and her eyes fall to my lips. She leans in, ever-so-slightly, and yeah… senses got nothing on the man about to kiss the woman he’s always burned for.
I dip my head, hovering there for a second, close enough to feel the heat off her skin, to see the way her lashes flutter like she’s barely holding it together.
Her breath ghosts across my mouth, shaky, uneven, pulling me under.
Then our lips brush up against each other, soft as silk, and the next thing I know, her hands fist my shirt, yanking me closer like she’s starved for this.
My hands slide down her sides, beneath her dress, up her thighs. Her skin is warm, soft, and perfect under my palms. I trace each curve, each dip, mapping territory I’ve claimed before but never really learned.
If she’s been keeping my child from me, I want to know every inch of the woman who’s done it.
“You want the truth?” She breathes against my lips. “Come get it.”
She kisses me harder then, fierce, ferocious, all teeth and tongue and punishing need. It’s a distraction, and we both know it. But fuck if I’m not falling for it anyway.
My body responds like it’s wired to her frequency, hardening instantly, hands gripping tighter. She tears at my shirt, nails scraping skin as she drags it up and over my head.
“You think you can fuck the truth out of me?” She challenges, eyes wild, fingers already working at my belt.
“No.” I grab her wrists, pinning them to her sides. “But I can make you want to tell me.”
Her pupils blow wide, dark with lust. “You’re so sure of yourself.”
“About this?” I grind against her, letting her feel exactly what she does to me. “Always.”
She breaks free of my grip and pushes me back toward the bed. There’s something new in her eyes tonight—a recklessness, a rebellion. Like she’s done playing defense.
“Sit.” She shoves at my chest.
I obey, curious where this is going. She drops to her knees between my legs, and my cock jumps at the sight alone.
“You want answers?” she asks, hands sliding up my thighs, teasing at the waistband of my jeans. “Let me give you something else instead.”
She throws my belt across the room, pops the button, and drags the zipper down with excruciating slowness. My breath catches as her fingers brush against me through the thin fabric of my boxers.
I instantly lift my hips, my body already craving what’s to come.
I raise up, letting her tug my jeans and boxers down in one fucking go. My cock springs free, already hard enough to hurt.
She looks up at me, a wicked smile curving her lips. “Still think you can make me talk?”
Before I can answer, she leans forward, takes me in her mouth, and my world fucking implodes.
“Jesus, Cass,” I groan, fingers tangling in her hair.
She hums around me, sending shockwaves straight up my spine. Her tongue swirls over the head, licks a stripe up the underside and teases at the spot just below the crown that makes my thighs tense.
My pulse kicks harder, my hands fist at my sides, every muscle coiled tight as a wire ready to snap.
I should stop this. I should remember I brought her here for a reason. But then her mouth slides lower, and those reasons go up in smoke.
And sight of her? Down on her knees, lips stretched around me, eyes locked on mine like she’s daring me to look away—it’s enough to make me forget why we’re here.
She takes me deeper, and thinking becomes a distant memory.
She works me with delicious cruelty. A teasing lick here, a pop deep in her throat, sucking and taunting. Her wet heat has my toes curling into the carpet. Her hand wraps around the base, stroking in time with her mouth.
Well, I’ll be damned. If she keeps this up, I won’t last a minute longer.
“Fuck,” I hiss, watching my cock disappear between those perfect lips again and again. “You need to stop.”
She ignores me, doubles down, hollows her cheeks, and sucks harder. Heat pools at the base of my spine, tension coiling tight.
“Cassie,” I warn, tugging at her hair. “I’m gonna?—”
She pulls off with a wet pop, looking up at me with swollen lips and triumphant eyes. “What? Too much for the big, bad Dante Romano?”
I growl, hauling her up by the arms, spinning us until she’s flat on her back on the mattress. “You think you’re winning?”
“Feels like it from here,” she hisses.
The second I reach for her, she flips me onto my back, straddling me, her dress riding up high on those thighs I’ve been obsessed with since day one.
“Don’t move,” she orders, voice shaking, but her hands are steady as they slide over my chest, down my stomach, nails dragging, wicked little scratches that ignite every nerve ending. “Game’s not over yet.”
I stay still—let her ride that power trip—watch her peel the dress up over her hips, revealing smooth skin, bare underneath.
Naughty girl.
And then, she straddles me tightly before lifting off to inch down onto me.
Then she starts to move.
Slow at first, rising up until just the tip remains inside, then sinking back down with a roll of her hips that makes my eyes cross. Her hands brace on my chest, nails digging in as she finds her rhythm.
I kiss her again, tasting myself on her tongue, grinding my cock deeper into her. She moans into the kiss, hips circling down to meet me at the hilt.
Her hands are everywhere—scratching down my chest, squeezing my ass. There’s a desperation to her tonight, a wildness I haven’t seen before.
It’s like she’s trying to fuck away the truth between us.
I groan, grabbing her thighs, needing to see more. My hands fist the thin cotton of her dress, ripping it clean down the middle, baring her completely.
I palm her breast, thumb circling her nipple until it peaks against my touch. She arches into it, gasping when I pinch just hard enough to sting.
She gasps—but I’m already sliding my hands down her ribs, over her hips, tilting her higher as she sinks down on me, hot, tight, perfect.
The world narrows to the sight of her—wild hair, flushed cheeks, those eyes burning into mine as she rides me slow, deep, owning every damn inch like she’s staking a claim.
I lower my head, take one pebbled nipple into my mouth, sucking hard enough to make her cry out. My hand slides down her back, dips into the curves of her ass.
“Dante,” she whimpers as I circle her clit with the other, teasing, not giving her what she needs. “Please.”
“Tell me what you’re hiding,” I murmur against her breast.
Her body clenches around me, back arching. “I can’t.”
“Well, if you can’t, Cass…” My voice is wrecked, my fingers bruising her hips as I flip her over, pinning her beneath me, my body heavy, relentless.
I drive into her, watching the way her head tips back, her lips part, her hands scrambling up my chest.
Together, we burn.
I pound into her relentlessly, the bedframe slamming against the wall with each brutal thrust. Her nails dig into my shoulders, her breath coming in ragged gasps as I fill her completely, stretching her, punishing her for the secrets she keeps.
“Is this what you want, Cass?” I growl, my hips snapping against hers, driving deeper, harder. “You want me to fuck the truth out of you?”
Her eyes are wild, her hair a tangled mess against the pillow. She looks like a woman on the edge of pleasure, of pain, of confession. Her body takes everything I give.
“Dante,” she cries out, her voice breaking as I hit a spot deep inside her that makes her whole body shudder. “Please...”
“Please, what, Cassie?” I demand, not letting up, not letting up.
She doesn’t answer, just bucks against my hips, chasing the pleasure I’m barely giving her.
“Jesus Christ,” I growl when I feel her begin to flutter around me, hands flying to her hips, gripping hard enough to bruise.
I watch, mesmerized, as she takes her pleasure from me. Her head falls back, hair a wild tangle down her spine, lips parted on soft mewls and moans. She’s fucking glorious like this.
“You’re mine,” I growl, angling my cock deeper. “You’ve always been mine.”
I push her legs higher, opening her wider, driving into her with rapid force.
“Look at me,” I demand, one hand sliding up to cup her face, forcing her eyes to mine. “I want to see you when you come.”
She does, those hazel-green eyes locking onto mine. I pound into her, hard, relentless, watching every flicker of emotion cross her face.
“Dante,” she gasps, nails raking down my back, leaving fire in their wake. “I’m close. I’m so close.”
“Come on then, angel,” I order, grinding my pubic bone against her clit with each thrust. “Let go.”
The tension coils tighter. In both her and me. I feel the fire in me stoke, ready to volcano the hell up, and as for her? God, she’s nearly screaming now, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, her breathing so damn fast I wonder if she’s getting any oxygen in her.
And then? I feel it.
The earthshattering quake of her body.
She convulses, inner muscles clamping down on my cock with a pressure that drags me right over the edge with her.
I bury myself to the hilt, emptying into her with a groan that tears from somewhere ancient within. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me, leaving me shaking, collapsed on top of her, face buried in her neck.
When it’s over, I stay right there—my hand brushing her cheek, her heart pounding against mine.
“If she’s mine,” I whisper, “you owe me everything.”
Her eyes widen, breath catching.
“And if she’s not?” I lean closer, my lips grazing hers, fierce and unshakable. “I’ll still protect her like she is.”
Cassie’s chest rises against mine. I watch her and see that look. Like she’s two minutes from bolting. And I know her. I know that look.
The regret is already clawing in. The walls are stacking right back up.
Her hand trails down my chest like she might stay—but her eyes?
They’re already gone.
I let her go.
She slips out of the bed, tugging that shredded dress around herself, bare feet soundless on the floor.
Then I reach for my phone.
Scroll to the name I shouldn’t be calling. But tonight? I’m done guessing. Done circling the drain of maybes.
The line clicks after one ring.
“I need a DNA test,” I say, my voice low, sharp, absolute. “Quietly.”