Chapter 18
18
Layne
L ate-night confessions and sleeping on Valentine’s chest settles a lot of my swirling thoughts, and it helps me see exactly what I need to do. They probably won’t like it one bit.
Showering quickly, I feel a little torn about rinsing off Valentine's espresso scent, but I need today to be like a fresh slate. Drying my hair and using the body lotions in the bathroom, I smell like me, which is important. Dressing in some of the workout gear we bought yesterday and wearing my new running shoes adds a pep to my step, and as I let the dogs out to do their business, I stretch, testing how my ribs are holding up. Matteo’s promise of a massage never happened after the unfolding drama when we got home, and my skin is red and angry where the tape was, but on the whole, the area feels better than I thought it would.
Valentine is up, the television playing softly again, but unlike the other morning when spontaneity and instant lust had me enjoying orgasms on his wicked mouth, the mood around the island is different.
Matteo is already up, drinking his coffee and watching the news highlights, and Dante makes lots of obvious noise when he comes out of his room, so I know where he is. As if I could miss his presence or the plume of his Amaretto scent as it clouds around me.
“How did you sleep?” he asks as he passes, intentionally keeping things very un-Dante in his offhanded, casual approach.
“Okay,” I offer, and before I can chicken out, I pick a spot where they can all see me. “About yesterday, I don’t owe you anything, but I don’t handle surprises well, for obvious reasons. The whole day rattled me. More than I probably should tell you, but…”
Dante goes to say something, but I stop him as gently as I can.
“I need today.”
“What do you mean?” Matteo asks, putting down his coffee cup and looking instantly cautious. “Are you leaving?”
It’s hard not to run over and give in to the need to soothe away his worries, but to do that, I need today.
Blowing out a steadying breath, I answer him as honestly as I can. “I don’t know, but by the end of the day, I hope I’ll have a better idea.”
“What do you need?” Valentine asks stoically. The intimacy we shared late last night is still in his eyes and the way he speaks, but I feel the press of his Alpha, making him the take-no-prisoners Mafia boss once again.
“A car and some money. I gave all the money you gave me to Ahmed, for his daughter. I was a bit pissed at you though, but at the same time he needed the money more than I did.”
He reaches inside his suit pocket and pulls out his wallet, removing his black credit card. But I get distracted by the new platinum wedding band he wears. My eyes jump to Dante next, before I look at Matteo’s left hand for the confirmation I didn’t really need.
If they notice me checking out their ring fingers, they don’t say anything, but as Valentine slides his credit card and another stack of hundred-dollar bills over the counter, Matteo adds the keys to his car while Dante offers his gun.
“In case you need snacks,” Valentine says, and maybe I read his seriousness wrong before, because he doesn’t even attempt to hide the growing tease that pulls his lip high and makes his scent more pronounced than the fresh coffee smell from the actual coffee machine in the corner.
My eyes move over to Matteo, and his eyes are brimming with concern but also something that looks like pride. God, this Beta confuses me with how easily he has slipped under my defenses.
Dante is, of course, more obvious and forthright. His sour cherries scent is extra syrupy today, and he pushes past boundaries, and the dogs, to grab a hold of my hoodie and pull me in for a kiss. Completely unexpected, but maybe it was the perfect thing to do. “You come back to us. Even if it is to tell us to fuck off, you come back, okay?”
I scrunch up my face to stop the bubbling emotions from ruining my makeup. The fact that they’re letting me go so easily is a massive boost to my confidence. Which sounds dumb, but it’s not. They trust me, and that’s what today is about—me trusting me again.
“Did you find your new phone?” Dante asks.
I hold it up as an answer.
“Are you going outside of our territory?”
“Maybe show me a map.” While I’ve got a plan for the day bubbling in my mind, I really don’t know what qualifies as their territory and what doesn’t.
Dante grabs my hand and leads me into his office. The air is thick with his scent in here, and half of me just wants to climb up on the leather sofa and nap under the hoodie he has thrown over one end of it.
He turns me in front of a map, then stands behind me, so close, I can’t possibly interpret any of his touches as platonic as he pinpoints areas I need to be careful in.
The city is divided into “zones” that fall under Vitale’s turf. But it’s not an equal division, and I see for myself how malicious Vitale has been toward his grandsons’ pack.
My eyes land on a hiking trail, which helps me decide my first stop for the day, but I need some additional intel from Dante.
“Is there a shooting range nearby? And a public library?” Twisting around, I catch his surprise before he curls over me, showing me where I need to go.
“I could come with you. I’ll sneak down after telling them I need to wash my hair or something,” he says once he has finished explaining. I know the suggestion is him being lighthearted more than anything by the pout I get when I dip under his arm and walk out of his office.
Checking the time, I see that it’s only seven, but early mornings are my favorite part of the day. Giving in to temptation, I walk over to where Matteo is doing his best to look unconcerned. As I slide into the space next to him, we don’t talk for a few minutes, and our closeness makes me feel so much better almost instantly. Not that I was worried—more like I was aware.
“How’s your wound? So much has happened since then, I kind of feel bad we’ve all forgotten you were injured.”
“I’m made of harder stuff than that, Layne. I’ll get Dante to swap the bandages after I beat his ass on the mat at the gym.”
“Heard that, and I will be beating your ass,” Dante calls out from his office.
“What are you guys going to do today?”
Matteo turns around and wiggles his eyebrows. “We are going to take advantage of you not being here.”
“And that means?” Curiosity and a vivid imagination has a green-eyed monster envisaging them having ex-lovers come over the second I leave.
How he reads my thoughts, I have no clue, but he leans down and whispers in my ear, “I’m a married man, Layne. Whether you choose to be my wife or not, I’d never cheat on you.”
“Potentially a vow of celibacy for forever?”
“If I had to wait forever for you, I would. Now, get out of here, and leave us to start the more unpleasant side of why we wanted to fake pack you in the first place.”
“Mafia stuff?”
“Correct. Mafia stuff. Valentine is going to see Vitale, and Dante and I are going to teach a few of his guards a lesson or two in etiquette.”
“For what happened yesterday at the hospital?”
Matteo leans over to give the top of my head a quick kiss before walking off. He gets to the door going down to his bedroom before he spins. “Me walking away isn’t because I don’t want to be with you. I just don’t want to watch you leave.”
His sweet confession is just that. And I smile to myself when I realize the only emotion I feel when I walk out the door is excitement, as opposed to the guilt I expected.
Edward and Bella stand on either side of me, and when the elevator doors open in the garage, they prowl out first before they circle back to let me know it’s safe.
Using the key fob, I melt a bit more for Matteo when his gun-metal gray CT5-V Blackwing beeps unlocked. I open the doors but hold the dogs back while I wait for a response to the text I send, asking if he wants me to put a blanket or something down, so they don’t scratch the leather. The glare emoji I got back in the very next second is followed by a winking emoji.
“In we go, puppies.” Edward jumps in the back, and I thought Bella would too, but she just looks at me until I open the passenger side door.
Once the three of us are safely seat belted in, I find the fob to the garage door, and we merge into the morning traffic, windows down, music up.
Our first stop is a grocery store, where I grab an emergency EpiPen, along with enough food and water for me and the dogs, a backpack to fit everything in, and an oversized coffee. And then we make good time to the hiking trail. I stretch out, testing my side, before putting on the backpack, weighed down with enough water for me and the dogs in case we get lost. And then I run.
It’s freeing to feel the wind on my face as I drop into the hypnotic rhythm of running. For a while, my lungs feel like I’ve been smoking a pack of cigarettes for days, but by the time I’ve reached the first mile, I’ve shaken off the cobwebs. The dogs are only trotting to keep up with my pace, but they have more, and longer, legs than me, although I think they’re a hell of a lot fitter too. The thousands of questions and scenarios, all the strange fears and anxieties that have been building since Valentine unveiled my identity don’t disappear, but they don’t feature so heavily, giving me a necessary reprieve.
I stick to the main trail and jog until I see the five-mile marker. I walk off the stitch in my side all the way to the end of the path, then give me and the dogs a drink before I walk back, letting the dogs off command, so they can enjoy a bit of downtime too. By the time we’re back to the car, only a few hours have passed, but I feel revitalized and refreshed, despite being tired. It’s a good tired—the workout buzz gives my thoughts clarity. Conquering my body was my first step, next is answering the question of whether I can still defend myself.
I haven’t been at a shooting range in a long time, too long. Instead spending the time surviving on the run, but not thriving or having the chance to hone skills I had drummed into me as a child.
Driving up to the gate at the range, I wait in line for an ID check by the two security guards. When they see the car, their whole demeanor changes, and instead of questions, I get directed to a reserved area where a huge Alpha, dressed in black from head to toe, wearing a “boss man” T-shirt, waits.
I pop the door open, and he nods. “Mrs. De Luca, I’m Dave, the owner. I’m honored to have you as our guest. We have everything you need set up already, and I’ll be on hand to provide you personal training on any areas you would like.”
“Dave, was it?” I ask, holding my hand out for him to shake, and for such a mammoth and intimidating man, the steps he takes to avoid me touching him screams Dante’s involvement.
Brushing my hand on my gym pants is pretty obvious, but Dave’s shoulders relax.
“Have you had any shooting experience?” he asks.
But I change subjects. “Is it okay if I have the dogs?”
“Of course. You pretty much have free rein.” He nods, effectively ending that discussion. And he waits at a safe distance as the dogs hop out and do their sniffing around until I snap my fingers and they return to my side.
The four of us walk in the opposite direction of the main building. Since today is all about trust, I slow my walk to make sure I’m comfortable in following an Alpha I don’t know.
Which I’m not. If the dogs weren’t with me, there is no way I would walk off with someone I don’t know.
“Dave, I really don’t want the special treatment. Is it okay if I use one of the lanes in the main building?”
“Yes, of course, Mrs. De Luca. I reserved a spot there too. I just wasn’t sure where you wanted to start.”
“No harm.”
Dave turns and walks back toward where we came, and I follow him, feeling better. The range is set up like the others I’ve used, and once Dave runs me through the standard safety talk, he leads me down the corridor for me to choose which lane I want. I’m not sure if it was designed for people with dogs, or maybe it’s for those with kids, but I choose one of the end ones that has two glass doors. I’ll be able to put Edward and Bella here without worrying about their ears.
Dave stays in the corridor and tests the intercom, but he doesn’t leave. I wait for an explanation.
“Let me see how you do a couple of rounds,” he offers, giving me a flick of his chin.
I suspect Dave is one of those sorts of people with a heart of gold under his prickly veneer, or Dante has threatened the shit out of him. Either way, I turn to focus on the target. As soon as I face it, the procedures and steps on what to do flow like water.
I use my dominant hand first and fire, then I step over to the second target and try that side. I’m definitely rusty. I pull the targets back in and see the proof of my years of experience— thanks, Dad —and the areas I need to focus on. Specifically, I need to work on stopping the drop on my less dominant side.
Loading up again, I hit the button for new targets and set them back a few extra yards. The result is pretty much the same. It’s frustrating, and I crack my neck to alleviate the bunching of my muscles.
Dave’s voice comes through on the intercom. “Under the bench is a handset, makes it easier to hear.”
Picking it up, I look at Dave, but it’s not him who speaks. “Spread your legs wider. Your balance is off because you’re tensing before you pull the trigger and overcompensating because you know you have a weakness.”
Dante is all serious and focused. And hearing him being distant in his assessment is like a glass of cold water on a summer's day—refreshing.
“Ask Dave to grab you a smaller caliber if your arm is fatiguing. Using mine would be good for stamina building.”
“I like yours. I didn’t think I would like feeling something so big and heavy…”
I hear him drop the phone, followed by a muffled groan, and it takes me less than a minute to realize what I just said. Though I squeeze my eyes shut in mild embarrassment, there’s no stopping the small smile lifting the edges of my lips. I can appreciate a good double entendre.
Dante coughs, but when he speaks, he’s back to being focused, more emotionally detached than I have ever seen—or, in this case, heard—him. “I want you to feel comfortable. Try a couple of rounds with the adjustment I suggested while Dave gets the other gun for you to try. I’ll leave you, since I have my own adjustment to deal with now.”
I scrunch my face up at the camera I finally spot tucked in the corner, knowing he’s watching.
“Hey, Layne, I’m not surprised you’re a fucking gunslinger. You’re one of those people who can do whatever they set their mind on. I just hope you see that, but also let me see more of it too. The fucking world is your oyster, don’t you forget that or let being scared rob you of the ability for you to see how strong you are.”
He hangs up before I can get a word in. And I keep staring, because I know he’s still watching. I can feel Dante’s attention so physically, it manifests like a touch on my shoulder while his Amaretto scent curls around my soul, warming me from the inside out.
And I accept that I think I like it.