Chapter 16
Nick
Dante’s eyes were always on me now. Ever since our midnight romp, things had changed.
He was more intense now, the heat in his gaze palpable as it raked across my skin.
It was easy to see that he wanted more, wanted me to give in.
It would’ve been easy to resist if he didn’t actually try to be better.
If he’d just continued to act like the monster everyone thought he was, I could ignore him with ease.
But he was good to me, and that was hard to turn a blind eye to.
Still, I couldn’t help being a little spooked after the gun incident.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d been around guns my whole life.
That wasn’t the issue. What scared me was the idea that Dante expected trouble that might require a gun to deal with every time someone unexpected knocked on the front door.
Up until now I’d had ideas of what mafia men’s lives were like, most of them shaped by movies and television.
But I suppose I never really expected them to be true.
It made me wonder. If someone in Hell Creek crossed him, would they go missing?
What if I pissed him off? Or decided I’d never sleep with him again?
Would I be the one buried in a shallow grave in the mountains?
There was nothing in our prenup to guarantee the safety of me or my family. We were at Dante’s mercy.
And the part I hated most of all? I didn’t think Dante would hurt us. I was beginning to trust him even. But his family? I wasn’t so sure about that.
“Hey boss!”
I turned to see Angelo walking my way. He’d finally swapped out his slacks for denim, but he was still tucking his pantlegs into his now ruined cowboy boots.
He’d bought a fancy pair and not the working kind.
They didn’t stand up to mud and cow shit very well.
His cowboy hat had a few smudges on it now too, but at least it looked like it belonged.
To my surprise, he was a great worker. Kind of an idiot, but with a good heart.
“You don’t have to call me that, Angelo,” I sighed, turning to face him. “I’m not your boss.”
He paused, his brows furrowed in confusion. “But you’re the boss’s wife…” His eyes went wide. “Husband,” he corrected. “That makes you the boss too.”
I just rolled my eyes. There was no fighting with him. The man lived for formality. “What do you need, Angelo?”
“We’re running low on feed,” he said, glancing down at a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. “I’ve been keeping track like you showed me, and we’re gonna need to put in an order soon if we want to keep the finishing steers fed through the end of the month.”
“Alright,” I nodded, impressed despite myself. Angelo was actually taking initiative. “What are we short on?”
He rattled off a list, and I made mental notes of what we’d need to call into the feed store.
It was the kind of routine task that used to feel automatic, but now everything felt heavier.
More significant. Like I was constantly aware that this ranch wasn’t really mine anymore, even if I was the one running it.
“I’ll give Morrison a call this afternoon,” I said. “We can probably get a delivery by Thursday if we order today.”
“Sounds good, boss.” Angelo grinned at me, and I couldn’t help but crack a small smile back. The guy was growing on me, as much as I hated to admit it.
“How are you liking it out here?” I asked, genuinely curious. “This can’t be what you expected when you signed up to work for the Valentis.”
Angelo’s expression softened, and he looked out over the pasture where the cattle were grazing. “Honestly? I love it. Living in the main house with your folks, working outside all day... it’s different from Jersey. Better, I think.”
I felt a pang of something, gratitude maybe, or relief that my parents weren’t being treated poorly. “They treating you alright?”
“Are you kidding? Your mom makes me breakfast every morning, and your dad’s been teaching me about the different grasses and cows. It’s like having a family again.” His voice got quieter. “I never had that growing up.”
The admission caught me off guard. I’d spent so much time thinking of Angelo as just another mobster goon, another threat, that I’d forgotten he was a person with his own story.
“That’s good,” I said, meaning it. “They’ve been through a lot. It’s nice to have someone around who appreciates them.”
“They’re good people, boss. You’re lucky.” He paused, then added, “And between you and me? Dante… he’s good people too. I know you two got off to a rough start, but he’s not like the rest of his family.”
I tensed at that. “What do you mean?”
Angelo glanced around like he was checking to make sure we were alone, then lowered his voice.
“His father, Enzo... the man’s a piece of work.
Cold as ice. I’ve seen him kill people for looking at him wrong.
I used to have to clean it up.” He shook his head, horror clear in his eyes.
“But Dante, he’s different. He cares about the family, and he does right by them, but on his own terms. He’s not cold like the rest of them. ”
“He still works for his father,” I pointed out. “Still does what he’s told.”
“Does he though?” Angelo’s eyes met mine, and there was something significant in his gaze. “You ever wonder what happens to the people Enzo wants... dealt with?”
My stomach dropped. “What are you saying?”
Angelo lowered his voice even more. “I’m saying that Dante’s been protecting people for years.
When his old man orders a hit, Dante roughs them up sure, makes it look good, then relocates them.
Gives them new identities, money to start over.
He’s saved more lives than you’d think.” Angelo’s voice was barely above a whisper now.
“But if Enzo ever found out, Dante would be the one swimming with the fishes.”
I stared at him, processing this information. Dante had been lying to his father. Protecting people. Risking his own life to save strangers.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
“Because you deserve to know who you married. And because I see the way you look at him, like you’re trying to figure out if he’s worth trusting.” Angelo straightened up, his voice returning to normal volume. “He is. That’s all I’m saying. And you didn’t hear that from me.”
He tipped his hat and walked away, leaving me standing there with my entire understanding of Dante Valenti crumbling and reforming into something new.
I spent the rest of the afternoon going through the motions of ranch work, but my mind was elsewhere. Every time I tried to focus on mending a fence or checking water troughs, Angelo’s words came rushing back.
Dante had been saving people. People his father wanted dead. For years, apparently, he’d been playing a dangerous game, and if his father ever discovered the truth...
I pushed the thought away, but it kept creeping back in. The gun in the drawer made more sense now. It wasn’t just about general mob paranoia. Dante was living a double life, and if the wrong person showed up at our door, it could all come crashing down.
By the time I headed back to the tiny house, the sun was starting to dip behind the mountains, painting the valley in shades of orange and gold.
I found Dante on the porch, sitting in one of the old wooden chairs we’d dragged out there last week.
He had a beer in his hand and was staring out at the horizon with that faraway look I was starting to recognize.
“Hey,” I said, climbing the steps.
He turned, and that heat was back in his eyes immediately. The kind that made my stomach flip and my pulse quicken. “Hey yourself. How’d it go out there?”
“Fine. Angelo says we need to order more feed.” I leaned against the porch railing, trying to appear casual even though my heart was hammering. “I’ll call Morrison tomorrow.”
“Angelo’s doing good work,” Dante said, taking a sip of his beer. “Better than I expected, honestly.”
“Yeah.” I paused, weighing my next words carefully. “He talks about you a lot. Says you’re not like the rest of your family.”
Something flickered across Dante’s face—surprise, maybe, or concern. “Angelo talks too much.”
“Does he?” I held his gaze, trying to read what was behind those dark eyes. “Or does he just know things he probably shouldn’t?”
Dante set his beer down slowly, his jaw tightening. “What exactly did he tell you?”
“Enough.” I crossed my arms, suddenly nervous about pushing this. But I needed to know. Needed to hear it from him. “He told me about the people your father wanted dealt with. About what you actually do with them.”
The silence that followed felt like it lasted forever. Dante’s expression went carefully blank, the same mask I’d seen him wear when he was trying to hide something. Then, slowly, he let out a long breath.
“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna kill him.”
“Don’t,” I said quickly. “He was trying to help. Trying to make me understand that you’re not—” I trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.
“Not a monster?” Dante’s laugh was bitter. “I’m still part of that world, Nick. I still do terrible things. Just because I draw the line at murder doesn’t make me a good person.”
“Maybe not,” I admitted. “But it makes you better than I thought you were.”
He looked up at me then, vulnerability written all over his face in a way I’d never seen before. “Does it change anything? Between us?”
I thought about that. About the gun in the drawer.
About the danger he lived with every day.
About the fact that he was risking his life to protect strangers from his own father.
About the way he’d thrown himself in front of that heifer without hesitation.
About the way he’d kissed me like I was something beautiful and rare.
“Yeah,” I said finally. “It does.”
His face fell, and I realized he’d misunderstood.
“It makes me trust you more,” I clarified quickly. “Not less.”
The relief that washed over his features was so profound it made my chest ache. He stood up, moving toward me like he was afraid of spooking me.
“Nick,” he said softly, stopping just inches away. “I know this is all fucked up. And I know you didn’t ask for any of this. But I meant what I said before. You make me feel things I don’t know how to handle. Please know I’m not lying to you about that.”
My breath caught as he reached up, his hand hovering near my face like he was asking permission. I should’ve stepped back. Should’ve reminded him we were taking this slow. But instead, I found myself leaning into his touch, letting his palm cup my jaw.
“I’m scared,” I admitted. “Of what this means. Of your family. Of allowing myself to enjoy this.”
“I’m scared too,” he said. “But now I’d rather be scared with you than safe without you.”
The words hit me harder than they should have.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I closed the distance between us and kissed him.
It was different from the desperate urgency of that night in bed.
This was slower, softer, but somehow more intense.
Like we were both acknowledging that this was real, that whatever was happening between us mattered.
When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing hard.
“We should go inside,” I murmured. “Before someone sees.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, but neither of us moved.
“Dante?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For telling me the truth. Or, well, for not lying when Angelo already spilled it.”
He laughed, and the sound was warm and genuine. “You’re welcome. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
We stood there on the porch as the sun finished setting, the valley growing dark around us. And for the first time since this whole mess started, I felt like maybe we were going to figure this out after all.