Chapter 19 #2
I read through the rest of the contract, trying not to get distracted by the patterns he's tracing on me. Or the way his fingers seem to be inching higher and higher up my thighs. Or the way his cock seems to pulse underneath me.
I don't know how I do it, but I read it all.
"Done?" he asks.
A shiver passes down my spine. I can feel his breath against my neck, and every nerve ending in my body takes notice.
"Yeah," I say, picking up a pen. "Where do I sign?"
He shows me all the places I need to sign.
I seal my own fate with every signature. I guess I’m really doing this.
"Now ask me your questions," he says, placing the contract back in the desk drawer.
I lick my lips. “Tell me what you were doing at the auction.”
"The first thing you need to understand about my world is that it's not all black and white.”
"You're speaking in riddles again."
His arm flexes over my belly. "Patience, little bird."
I glance down at his hand. It's resting underneath my belly button. I still hear my mother's voice, telling me how the softness of my waist is repulsive.
But judging by the way Dante's body seems to react to mine, he doesn't find me repulsive. Not one bit.
He's made that abundantly clear.
He opens a folder on his computer. The contents of it are displayed on all four computers before me.
I'm staring at sketches of men's faces. There are a little more than a dozen of them, and all of them seem vaguely familiar.
"They're from the auction," I whisper.
"They were sitting in the audience," he tells me. "These heartless monsters are the reason those kinds of auctions exist in the first place. So I go where they go. I learn their faces and their habits. And eventually, I learn their identities."
"You...hunt them."
"It's easy to eliminate these motherfuckers," I say. "But it's important to play the long game to avoid suspicion."
I digest the information.
If what he’s saying is true, he’s not one of them. He’s a vigilante who does the wrong things for the right reasons.
"That…sounds very noble, Dante," I say, turning around to look at him.
His scent goes straight to my head. Smoky oud, sea salt, and hydrangeas. He smells like the kind of stuff I used to only dream about. Like faraway lands and freedom.
"Why do you care?"
"Do I need a reason?"
"Ordinary people would condemn these practices, but I don't know anyone who would go out of their way to change things. You're putting your life in danger by doing what you do,” I say. "Why?"
He lifts his hand to my face, cupping my jaw in his large hand. He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip.
"You're asking me to share things I keep locked away in my head, piccola," he says.
"This is why men don't live as long as women," I say. "It's not healthy to keep things suppressed inside you."
"So you want to be my little confidante?" he asks, tugging on my bottom lip and making my lips part. The throb between my thighs intensifies.
"We can be friends," I say.
"Friends," he repeats. "I think it's too late for us to just be friends."
He cups one of my breasts in his palm and gives it a rough squeeze. I shift over his hard cock.
"Friends with benefits then," I say.
He pinches my nipple, making me moan.
"Do you have any more questions for me before I take my kiss?" he says.
"You haven't answered my last one," I say. “Why do you care about what happens at those auctions?”
"It makes me feel better about the kind of life I live," he says. "Knowing that I'm contributing something good to the world makes it easier for me to sleep at night. Is that enough explanation for you?"
He's being honest, but I have a feeling there's more to the story.
"How did you get into this life, Dante?" I ask. "You weren't born into it, which means that you chose it."
"It was chosen for me," he corrects.
"How so?"
He's looking at me, but his eyes seem lost in time.
“Twenty-five years of service for the names,” he says. "That was the deal."
"I don't follow," I say.
“I was searching for answers when I found Don Savastano,” he says.
“He took me under his wing and taught me everything he knew. I rose up the ranks until I became the one he trusted most. I did everything he asked me to, and it’s all because he knew the names of the two people who killed my parents. ”
He's quiet for a moment.
I don't know if he realizes it, but he's holding me tighter than he was before.
I want to wrap my arms around him. I want to kiss the space between his eyebrows until the agitated crease fades away. But I only watch him, not knowing what to say.
I didn't think his truth would be this heavy.
“One of them was the killer, and the other was the man who gave the order," he says.
"It was about borrowed money that hadn't been paid back in time. They didn't show any mercy. Don Savastano gave me the name of the killer, but he’ll give me the name of the boss after twenty-five years of service. That was our arrangement.”
It seems like everything in this world is an arrangement. Nothing is done out of love or kindness.
"How many years do you have left?" I ask.
“Five more," he says. “I thought I could find him on my own, but his gang is no longer active.”
I can’t stop thinking about the younger version of him. He was only a child when he lost everything. He must have felt so alone in the world.
I trace the line of his eyebrow. He melts into my touch, relaxing a little more.
He has magnificent eyebrows. They're regal and proud. Like everything else about him.
"It must have been hard for you to bend and conform," I say. "This isn't an easy life."
"I've made my peace with it," he says. “Life as a criminal has a way of changing you, though. It makes your morals shift, blurring the lines between right and wrong."
"Why are you trying so hard to convince me you're a bad person?" I ask.
His eyes dip to my lips. "You wanted honesty. I'm giving it to you."
"You can't help the circumstances that life throws at you," I say. "But the way you react to these events is what defines you as a man. And for what it's worth, I think you're an honorable man."
"I can promise you that there's not a single thought in my head that's honorable right now," he says, his fingers flexing over my hips. There's that switch in his accent again.
"You're not from here, are you?" I ask. "Where did you grow up?"
He hesitates, but only for a moment. "London."
"A London boy," I say. "Fancy."
"Nothing fancy about the part of London I'm from."
"Do you miss home?"
"There's no home without family."
A dull pang spreads across my chest. It wasn't his fault that he was thrust into this life at a young age.
"You were wrong," he says.
"About?"
"Talking about my past isn't bringing me any of the pleasure you promised," he says.
I smile at him. "I never said it would bring you joy. I just said it was good for you."
"This doesn't feel good, Grace." There's so much weight in his eyes as he looks at me. He's been keeping it contained for far too long.
"Maybe we should change that," I whisper.
I don't know what comes over me. Maybe it's his proximity. Maybe it's the way his masculine scent clouds my head. Maybe it's just him.
I tilt my chin up, offering my mouth to him. His eyes darken as he stares at my lips. In a fluid motion, he turns me around until I'm straddling him. I gasp as his cock drags against my slit.
I hold my breath as our eyes lock. And then his lips crash down over mine.
He devours my mouth, claiming me like it's his birthright.
Electricity bolts down my spine.
I see sunflowers and starbursts behind my closed eyelids.
I give in.
Completely.