19. Dante
NINETEEN
Dante
“ N o, I’m not,” she sobbed.
“No one wants me.”
“I want you. So much.” I nuzzled her hair with my chin.
Instead of telling me off, she broke in my arms.
Her soft cries tore through the suite and shook me.
I held her tightly, one hand at her back, the other cradling the back of her head, but it didn’t feel like enough.
Nothing I did would ever feel like enough for this wonderfully fragile and remarkably strong woman.
Her tears soaked into the fabric of my shirt as she trembled against me.
I pressed my lips to the top of her head.
“I’m so sorry, Elysa. I’m here now. I’m here for you.”
She froze for half a second before pulling back sharply, her tear-streaked face twisted in anger.
“Here for me?” she scoffed, wiping her face with unsteady hands.
“That’s a joke, Dante.”
I blinked, stunned by the venom lacing her words.
“Elysa?—”
“No, you don’t get to do this,” she cut me off, pulling away and moving to the other end of the couch.
“You don’t get to hold me now and pretend like you care. Do you have any idea how it feels to spend years hoping for a family, for someone who actually sees you, only to realize that you’re completely alone? Because that’s how I feel, Dante. Alone.”
It was excruciating to see and feel her pain.
I’d done this.
I could’ve just stopped being an ass and been happy with her, made her happy; instead, I’d decided that distance was a good thing.
It made no sense, especially now that I knew I was in love with her.
I didn’t know when it happened—was it the first time we made love, the first time she asked me to skip work and play tourist in Rome, or was it when she insisted on watching horror films, all the while hiding behind my shoulder, asking me if the bad part was over.
“When I married you, I thought I was finally going to have a family.” Her words quaked with anger and pain.
“Don Giordano made me feel like I belonged. But now he’s gone, and you? You treat me like I’m a damn inconvenience. Like I’m just some silly little girl playing dress-up in your world.”
“That’s not true,” I whispered, wishing there was some way I could make her see what was inside my heart.
“Isn’t it?” she shot back, her eyes blazing with fury.
“Do you even hear yourself, Dante? Do you know how many times you’ve dismissed me? How many times you have made me feel small? I told you Patrizia called me a fat cow, and you didn’t even believe me. You chose to believe Lucia.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.
She was right.
She was absolutely right.
“And it’s not just Patrizia,” she continued, her voice rising.
“It’s you . You constantly brush me off, act like my feelings don’t matter, like I’m some dumb twit who can’t possibly handle the world you live in. You complained about my food. You told me that I didn’t know how to dress. You showed me no interest unless it suited you. Do you have any idea what that does to someone? To be ignored, dismissed, and made to feel like they don’t matter?”
“Elysa, I’m so sorry.” The words came out in a rush, desperate and raw.
“I didn’t realize—I didn’t know I was making you feel that way. I never meant to?—”
“Stuff it,” she snapped, her voice slicing through the air.
“You’re just like my father. You and every other man who thinks he’s God’s gift to the world. You act like you’re so noble, so strong, but all you do is tear people down so you can feel bigger. You’re arrogant and cruel. ”
“ Bella mia —,” I tried again, unsteadily.
But she wasn’t listening.
She shook her head, her lips pressed into a tight line.
“I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”
She got up from the couch, making her way to the bedroom.
The hell she isn’t.
I followed her, and when she stepped into the bedroom, trying to shut the door, I easily pushed it open.
“We’re going to make this marriage work,” I ground out.
Okay, so maybe my approach was precisely what she’d accused me of—arrogant.
“There’s no we , you prick. I was the one trying to make it work. All you’ve done is force me into situations I don’t want to be in, like coming here or going to that charity thing where you and your Lucia canoodled all freaking evening,” she shouted.
It was something else to see Elysa like this, and I knew I was to blame.
She was a gentle soul, and I’d made her angry and bitter.
I stood there for a moment, staring at her as her words replayed in my head like a broken record.
I thought we’d been friendly.
I thought, even now, even with everything happening between us, that we’d been on decent terms.
But I’d been blind.
I’d been haughty.
I thought I was the one who’d been wronged by being forced into marriage, but I hadn’t seen what I’d done to her— how I’d chipped away at her until she couldn’t take it anymore.
I rubbed a hand over my face, swallowing the lump in my throat.
Apologizing wasn’t going to fix this.
Nothing I said would erase the damage I’d done.
Regardless, I wasn’t going to let her go.
“A husband and wife sleep together.”
“We’re not even living together,” she jibed.
“Elysa, we’re sleeping in the same bed.”
“ Whatever ,” she flung at me and went into the adjoining bathroom, slamming the door shut.
That night, she slept on the left side, so far left that I thought she’d fall off the king-size bed.
I waited for her to fall asleep, and when she did, I pulled her close to me, letting her head rest against my chest and wrapping an arm around her.
Was it wrong to do this while she was in deep sleep?
Probably .
Did I give a shit?
No .
I stroked her back, hearing her gentle breathing.
I was relieved that she was sleeping, even if it was due to exhaustion.
I couldn’t calm myself to fall into blessed slumber.
A decent man would let her go after what I’d put her through.
But, hell, I wasn’t a decent man.
Elysa was my wife, and she was going to remain that way.
Just because I had my head up my ass before didn’t mean I had to live like that.
I didn’t care how badly I’d screwed up—the past was unchangeable.
All I could do was move forward.
And no matter what it took, I was going to win her back.
Because the truth was, I wasn’t whole without Elysa.
She’d been the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I’d been too foolish to see it.
But I saw it now, and I wasn’t going to give up on her.
She could go ahead and live elsewhere, keep pushing for a divorce, demand I not seduce her—that wasn’t going to change a damn thing.
I was Dante Giordano, and I always won.