Chapter 6 Nick
Nick
Ispent the entire night awake, body trembling as I waited for groping hands to find me in the darkness.
But Dante, true to his word, slept soundly on the other side of the bed, snoring softly through the night.
Only when his alarm went off did he finally stir.
I felt him sit up and pause for a moment before he got up.
He must’ve felt me trembling because a moment later he grabbed the blankets and pulled them up a little higher on my shoulders.
It was a strangely sweet gesture, completely out of character for a demon like him.
When he finally padded off to the bathroom, I let out a sigh of relief.
I’d made it through the first night, unmolested.
It was lucky, but I knew the ins and outs of the prenup.
Marital duties were included in the contract.
That meant sex. How long would Dante allow me to say no before he just took what he wanted?
I threw back the covers, forcing the thoughts from my mind as I sprung out of bed. I wanted to be dressed before Dante got back. The last thing I wanted to do was tempt fate by letting him see me in just my pajama pants.
I pulled on my jeans and was halfway through buttoning my shirt when the bathroom door opened. Steam billowed out, carrying the scent of expensive soap with a masculine edge.
Dante emerged with a towel slung low around his hips, water still beading on his shoulders.
His dark hair was slicked back, and in the pale morning light filtering through the curtains, I could see every line and curve of his body.
He wasn’t just fit, he was carved. His entire body was all lean muscle and smooth olive skin marked here and there with scars that told stories I didn’t want to know.
I should’ve looked away. I meant to look away.
But I stood there like an idiot, fingers frozen on my third button, as he walked past me to his duffel bag. He didn’t say a word, didn’t acknowledge my staring. He just reached down and…
The towel dropped.
My breath caught in my throat. Heat flooded my face, then lower, as I got a full view of everything.
And God help me, everything was... impressive.
Dante Valenti was built like some kind of Renaissance sculpture, all hard planes and perfect proportions, completely unselfconscious in his nakedness.
And his cock… well, he wasn’t lying about being hung.
I forced my eyes up, away from the sight that was making my body flush with heat. My fingers fumbled with the remaining buttons on my shirt as I turned my back to him, heart hammering against my ribs.
“You can look if you want,” Dante said, amusement clear in his voice. “We’re married now. It’s not like you won’t be seeing plenty more of it.”
I clenched my jaw, yanking my shirt closed with more force than necessary. “I’m good, thanks.”
I heard the rustle of fabric as he dressed, and I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the wall in front of me. My face was burning, and worse, I could feel the unwanted stirring in my jeans. My body was betraying me, responding to him in ways that made my stomach churn with shame.
This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t—I didn’t—
“You know,” Dante continued, his voice closer now, “for someone who claims to be straight, you were staring pretty hard just now.”
“Fuck off,” I muttered, finally getting my shirt buttoned. I reached for my boots, needing something to do with my hands.
“I’m just saying, there’s no shame in liking more than one thing or wanting to try something new.” His hand landed on my shoulder, warm through the fabric of my shirt. I jerked away like I’d been burned.
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“Your eyes say different.”
I whirled around to face him, ready to tell him exactly where he could shove his observations, but the words died in my throat.
He was fully dressed now, thank God, in a dark henley and jeans that probably cost more than my truck.
His hair was still damp, falling across his forehead in a way that made him look even more handsome.
What the fuck was wrong with me? It had to be the lack of sleep. Yeah. That was it.
“We have work to do,” he said, his expression shifting back to business. “The new cattle need to be checked, and I want to ride the fence line on the north pasture. You’re coming with me.”
“Is that an order?” The bitterness in my voice was impossible to hide.
“It’s a request,” he said. “But yes, I expect you to comply. Unless you’d rather stay here and think about what you saw?”
The bastard was enjoying this. I could see it in the slight curve of his lips, the glint in those dark eyes.
“Fine,” I bit out. “Let’s go.”
I pushed past him, grabbing my jacket from the hook by the door. The morning air would be cold, and I needed the excuse to put another layer between us. Between me and whatever the hell my confused, sleep-deprived body was doing.
Outside, the Montana morning hit me like a splash of cold water.
It was exactly what I needed. The sky was just starting to lighten, streaks of pink and gold painting the horizon beyond the dark silhouette of the mountains.
My breath misted in the air as I headed toward the barn, boots crunching on gravel.
I could hear Dante behind me, his footsteps steady and unhurried. He didn’t try to catch up or make conversation, which was a small mercy. I needed space to get my head straight, to stop thinking about what I’d just seen.
The barn was warm compared to outside, filled with the familiar smells of hay and horse and leather that usually grounded me. Today they just reminded me that nothing was familiar anymore. Not really.
Buck nickered when he saw me, pushing his nose over the stall door. I ran my hand down his face, taking comfort in the solid warmth of him. At least some things hadn’t changed.
“Which one’s mine?” Dante asked from behind me.
I pointed to the chestnut mare three stalls down without looking at him. “That’s Rosie. She’s steady, won’t give you any trouble.”
“I can handle trouble.”
“I don’t care.” I grabbed Buck’s bridle from its hook and let myself into his stall. The routine of tacking up was soothing, something I could do without thinking. Brush, saddle pad, saddle, cinch. My hands knew the motions by heart.
I was checking Buck’s girth when I felt Dante’s presence beside me. He was watching, I could tell, studying the way I worked.
“Need something?” I asked tersely.
“No. I know my way around a horse.”
That surprised me, though I tried not to show it. I’d assumed a city boy like him wouldn’t know one end of a horse from the other. But when I glanced over, he was saddling Rosie with practiced efficiency, his movements confident.
“Where’d you learn to ride?” The question came out before I could stop it. Damn country small talk was etched into my brain.
“My uncle had a place upstate. Spent summers there as a kid.” He tightened the cinch, then ran his hand down Rosie’s neck. “Before my father forced me to join the family business.”
There was something in his voice, not quite regret, but close to it. For a second, I almost felt something like sympathy. Almost.
Then I remembered who he was. What he’d done. What he was making me do.
I led Buck out of the barn without another word, swinging up into the saddle with the ease of someone who’d been riding before they could walk. The leather creaked beneath me, familiar and right in a way nothing else felt anymore.
Dante mounted up beside me, settling into the saddle like he belonged there. Damn him.
“North pasture’s this way,” I said, nudging Buck forward.
We rode in silence as the sun continued its slow climb, turning the valley golden. The cattle were dark shapes against the grass, moving slowly as they grazed. New animals, bought with Valenti money, on land that was supposed to be Wesley land but wasn’t anymore. Not really.
“Tell me about the ranch,” Dante said after a while. “How it runs, what needs fixing, what the priorities are.”
I kept my eyes on the horizon, not trusting myself to look at him. The question felt like a test, like he was checking to see if I’d actually cooperate or make this difficult.
“We rotate the cattle between three main pastures,” I said finally, my voice flat. “Gives the grass time to recover. The north pasture has the best water access from the creek, but the fencing’s old. Needs replacing in sections.”
“How old?”
“Some of it’s original. Forty, fifty years.” I guided Buck around a low spot where water had pooled from last week’s rain. “Dad kept meaning to replace it, but...” I trailed off. But there was never enough money. Because he’d been drowning in debt to Dante’s family.
“We’ll get it done,” Dante said, like it was that simple. Like throwing money at a problem solved everything.
Maybe in his world, it did.
We rode in silence for another few minutes, the only sounds were the creak of leather and the soft thud of hooves on grass.
The cattle lifted their heads as we passed, watching us with that placid curiosity cows had.
They didn’t care that their owner had changed.
Didn’t care that I’d sold my soul to keep them here.
“That section there,” I said, pointing to where the fence sagged between two posts. “Needs work.”
Dante reined in Rosie, studying the fence line with a critical eye. “Angelo can handle that. He’s done construction work.”
“Angelo doesn’t know shit about ranching,” I snapped. “I can tell that by his boots alone.”
“Then you’ll teach him.” He looked at me, and I felt the weight of his gaze even though I was still staring at the fence. “That’s part of this arrangement, Nick. I’m not just here to play pretend. I want to learn business and run it properly. And you’re going to show me how.”
I finally turned to face him. “Why? You’ve got enough money to hire a dozen ranch managers. Why do you actually give a damn about learning it yourself?”
Something shifted in his expression, a crack in that polished exterior.
“Because I’m tired of the life I had in Jersey.
The constant looking over my shoulder, the violence, the FBI breathing down our necks.
” He gestured at the valley spread out before us.
“This is different. This is clean. Legal. I want to build something here that doesn’t come with a criminal record. ”
I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. A mobster wanting to play cowboy, to pretend he could wash the blood off his hands by working the land.
But there was something in his eyes that made me pause. Something that almost looked genuine.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll teach you. But don’t expect me to like it.”
“I don’t expect you to like anything about me,” he replied. “Just to do your part.”
I urged Buck forward, not wanting to continue this conversation. Not wanting to see whatever humanity might be lurking under Dante’s carefully constructed facade. It was easier to hate him when he was just a monster.
We spent the next hour riding the fence line, me pointing out problems and Dante taking mental notes. He asked good questions, practical ones that showed he was actually paying attention. It was unsettling, seeing him so focused on something so mundane. So normal.
The sun was higher now, warming my back through my jacket. My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s lunch. I’d been too nervous about the wedding to force anything down.
“We should head back,” I said. “Check on the rest of the herd, then I need to—”
“Eat breakfast?” Dante finished. “I heard your stomach. We’ll go back, grab food, then continue.”
I hated that he’d noticed. Hated that he was being... considerate. It would be so much easier if he was just a complete bastard all the time.
We turned the horses back toward the barn, the ride feeling shorter somehow. Maybe because I was getting used to his presence beside me. Or maybe because my body was too exhausted to maintain the constant state of tension.
When we reached the barn, I dismounted and started untacking Buck. My hands moved through the familiar motions—unbuckle, lift, brush. Dante worked beside me, caring for Rosie with the same efficiency he’d shown earlier.
“You actually do know your way around horses,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them.
“Surprised?”
“Yeah.” I hung Buck’s bridle on its hook. “Figured you’d be all talk.”
“I’m a lot of things, Nick, but I’m not a liar.” He closed Rosie’s stall door, turning to face me. “When I say I want to make this work, I mean it. When I say I won’t force myself on you, I mean that too.”
My jaw clenched. “And when you said I’d be in your bed? Did you mean that?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. “But there’s a difference between sharing a bed and forcing myself on someone. I told you—I’m not a monster.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He stepped closer, and I backed up instinctively until my shoulders hit the barn wall. He didn’t touch me, just stood there, close enough that I could smell the lingering scent of his expensive soap.
“I know what you saw this morning scared you,” he said quietly. “But I think you felt something that scared you even more.”
“I didn’t feel anything.”
“Liar.” His lips curved into that knowing smile. “Your face turned red. Your breathing changed. And unless I’m very wrong, which I’m not, you liked it.”
Shame burned through me, hot and terrible. “Fuck you.”
“Maybe eventually.” He reached up, and I flinched, but he just brushed a piece of hay off my shoulder. “But not until you ask me to.” He paused for only a second, those dark eyes boring into me. “And you will. They always do.”