Chapter 8
DANTE
I close my eyes and sink into Ruby’s kiss.
She’s so young, and her timidness in parting her lips to allow me entrance makes me suspect she hasn’t got much experience with men.
So, I take it slowly, my hand light on the nape of her neck, then curling into her hair.
Soft, so soft, like silk. I keep all my ravenous needs at bay.
At least for now. In the privacy of my mind, I imagine taking her to my room, and undressing her.
Worshipping those perfect little tits until she moans and writhes.
Covering every inch of her skin with kisses as I discover all the secret places that she’s ticklish, sensitive, and make her writhe with longing.
God, I’d like to eat her soft pussy until she screams for mercy and she’s liquid with desire and satisfaction.
My tongue touches her lips and she whimpers, allowing me entrance, and I deepen the kiss, stroking her mouth. She clings to me, and I gather her closer, one hand tightening on her waist, and pulling her flush to me, my erection already a solid bar between us, pushing against her soft stomach.
She stands on tiptoes to get nearer, and I’m so undone by a sweet kiss from a girl far too young for me. A girl as untainted by my mafia world and its dangers as a dove.
I imagine taking her on a bed, slow and patient, driving her to the edge of madness. Here, fast and desperate, my fingers on her clit tipping her over as I pound into her welcoming cunt. Filling her with my come and giving her my baby.
Ruining her for any other man. Owning her.
She matches my kiss, her tongue playing with mine, cautious but growing in confidence. She digs her fingertips into my chest through my shirt, and it feels like a magic that seeps into me, burrowing into my usually cold heart.
“Dante.”
“Tesorina,” I echo her, my voice a rasp. She’s so incredibly perfect. She’ll feel amazing. If I take her here, willing, eager, we can retire to my rooms. I’ll woo her with treats and prosecco, and tell her how she’s my good girl. And in the morning…
She’ll regret it. She’s been drinking.
And I won’t be able to let her go, I realise in a flash of insight. She’ll be dragged into my world. I can’t do that to her.
I have to stop this. Now. For her sake.
I wish I was twenty years younger. Hell, ten years and less blood on my hands would do. But taking a girl the same age as my niece home to be my bride is beyond even my moral bankruptcy.
She’s younger than most of my tattoos.
I pull away.
She blinks up at me, almost dazed, then stiffens and withdraws, rubbing her arms with her hands as though she’s cold. “Sorry. I crossed more lines than a hopscotch endurance athlete.”
A surprised bark of laughter jumps from my chest.
I didn’t think I could like this girl any more than I do, but then she’s funny as well as quick thinking and resourceful?
I’m smitten. She’d fit right into me. The vision of her lying over me, her dark head resting on my pectorals and the flow of brown hair down my side, mixing with the lines of my tattoos is a siren’s call.
I want that so much. I want to see her face as she comes and feel her tummy swell with my baby.
I take a step back. “We’d better return to the party.”
“Sorry.” She sounds miserable.
“Nothing to apologise for.” Despite my best intentions, I can’t resist touching my thumb to her cheek. In a hoarse murmur, I tell her the truth. “Tesorina, you’re too young and innocent for a man like me.”
I hardly sleep for regretting my decision and making plans to have Ruby after all.
Then, remembering that she’s far too young for me, but that I can’t live without seeing her, I consider stalking.
Then I decide to woo her in some old-fashioned way.
Like dinner, chocolates, red roses, and kidnapping.
So I’m up early, having coffee and pastries on the terrace when Lucia takes the seat next to me.
“Wedding went well,” she comments. “But you look tired.”
I grunt a response.
“You promised me no business,” she adds neutrally.
“Sorry about that.” I glare out at the gorgeous blue lake in the pale morning light, but instead of thinking about how I broke my promise to not have a gun at the wedding, I wish Ruby were by my side rather than my sister.
“I’ll find a suitable punishment for you,” she says lightly.
“It was a precaution to keep everyone safe,” I reply grumpily. Realising the love of your life is off-limits will make a man irritable.
There’s a short silence where I stew in my own bad mood. This is entirely a hurt of my own making. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so close to Ruby yesterday. It’s causing issues with letting her go.
And I have to.
“Are you going to see the little hairdresser again?”
Ruby. I open my mouth to name her, then close it as Lucia’s triumphant smile flashes in the corner of my eye. Damn her.
My sister is a mind reader.
“No.” I try to make my tone conversation ending.
“You two seemed to really hit it off,” she says with deceptive casualness.
“She’s a sweet girl.” I don’t allow any emotion in my words.
“She’s a smart young woman.”
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” I snap.
“I thought you might have spent the night with her.” My sister puts her hands in the pockets of her shift dress and regards me.
“It’s got pockets.” That usually distracts her into a rant about women’s clothing.
“All the better to stuff your repressed feelings into, brother,” she replies cheerily.
“She’s too young.” The words are bitter on my tongue. A lie. She’s perfect. It is me who is too old, and scarred, and morally corrupt for someone like her. She deserves more.
“I thought you liked her,” Lucia insists.
“I didn’t.” And that at least, is true. I think I fell head over heels in love with her. Like is a tepid, pathetic little word compared to how I feel. I adore Ruby. I’d sell my soul to keep her safe, and that means keeping her away from me.
Lucia narrows her eyes. “She’s attractive though?”
“Beautiful.” And that’s a lie too. She’s so utterly gorgeous, the most perfect creature imaginable. Beautiful is an embarrassing understatement.
A waiter brings Lucia a cappuccino with biscotti and an apricot-filled cornetto pastry, soft and curved like a French croissant, and she thanks him in Italian. I order another black coffee and an espresso, and talk myself out of going to find Ruby.
Lucia holds a one-sided conversation about the wedding as my coffee goes cold, then lapses into silence.
“Don’t lose the love of a lifetime because you’re scared of being hurt,” Lucia says eventually.
“I am not afraid of that.” Even if Ruby weren’t too young and innocent for me, I still wouldn’t risk doing to her what my brother-in-law did to Lucia. Dying and leaving her a single mother. Alone.
“She liked you.”
I remember her clumsy, sweet attempts to flirt with me, and her kiss, and my heart squeezes painfully. “I don’t think so.”
“Love is worth the risk, you know,” Lucia says gently.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” But that’s a lie. “I should get back.” I go to rise.
“Dante.” Lucia’s voice stops me.
I sigh.
“I wouldn’t give up my time with Francesca’s father for anything in the world. Even though it ended in heartbreak, I wouldn’t change it.”
Deliberately, I look away.
Because Lucia doesn’t understand. It’s not me who I’m afraid of being hurt. It’s Ruby.
“Will you give her a nice tip for all her hard work?” The tone of Lucia’s request suggests she knows that there’s more to what I say.
I suppose Lucia thinks I slept with Ruby and therefore ought to receive compensation.
I grind my teeth. Lucia’s also telling me, not so subtly, that I can find Ruby again if I want to.
“She’ll be paid, don’t worry. I said I’d cover the costs of Francesca’s wedding, and I meant it. That’s all. Nothing more.”
And that’s a lie, again. Because although I should leave Ruby alone to live her life, I’ll be watching.