28. Dante
Dante
T he sharp ping of a cell slices through the quiet, and I snatch my phone instantly.
Riley shifts slightly, and my jaw clenches. I don’t want her disturbed. Yawning silently, I glance at the clock.
Eleven hours.
The last time I slept that long, I was probably three.
Exhaling slowly, I force my attention back to the screen, opening the message that just shattered my peace.
Declan
I need a favor.
It’s one thing to be disturbed. It’s another thing to have a Keenan knocking at my door for a favor.
But since we’re still fine-tuning our alliance, I can ignore him for now.
Just not for long.
I set down the phone and stretch until I freeze at the bizarre sensation atop my head.
“What the fuck…?”
I rip the offending item off, staring down at the white fluffy bunny ears clenched in my fist. Exactly where she put them—right before she straddled my face, her laughter bright and teasing, and dangerously unforgettable.
I want to inject that laughter straight into my veins until I forget what it’s like to be empty.
A reluctant smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.
The bed beneath us is worth sixty grand, but the lingering scent of her skin—vanilla, warmth, something devastatingly Riley—is priceless.
I’d spend eleven more hours right here, tangled in her limbs, ordering takeout and ignoring every fucked-up thing lurking on the other side of these walls.
My fingers brush softly across her waist, my lips hovering above the sweet, tender spot on her shoulder, when the shrill ping of my phone shatters the silence.
I shut it up immediately, teeth grinding hard enough to crack.
Then it buzzes again.
And again.
I know it won’t stop.
He won’t stop.
The whole goddamn world won’t stop.
I’m about to hurl it into the wall when I see the next message.
Declan
Don’t keep me waiting, bráthair.
I’d hate to disturb you and the girl.
With that, it happens.
Blood. Everywhere.
I look down—blood, violent and vivid, coats my palms, staining the phone, saturating the sheets. Spreading toward Riley, ready to taint her if I don’t get my shit together fast enough.
My eyes snap shut, chest heaving with harsh, shallow breaths.
It’s not real.
It’s. Not. Real.
Reality barrels toward me, and in a single, brutal instant, my perfect fantasy fractures, shattering like glass.
Riley Mullvain is the girl who can never, ever be mine. Because Declan Keenan knows she’s here.
I sink back against the headboard, regret smashing into me from all sides.
Coming here, touching her, tasting her—it was a mistake. She was a mistake.
My beautiful, reckless, perfectly devastating mistake.