Chapter 23 #2
Thrilled at his “promise,” but feeling awkward that he’d done that in front of the others, that he’d made sure someone remained with her, she tried to shield the awkwardness as Dante joined her. “He knows you,” she said.
Dante nodded. “Our dads worked together.”
Wait—she knew this. What had Dillon said the children were called? “Scions.”
Surprise widened the man’s eyes. “He told you?”
Glancing after Dillon, who strode into the main room, she nodded. “A little. He keeps things very close.”
Dante eased onto the chair where Dillon had sat a moment ago. “Including you, it seems.”
That heat returned to her cheeks. “We have been through a lot.”
“Apparently.”
Where she expected to find condemnation or reprisal, she only found curiosity. “How long have you known him?”
“Since he was born.”
Now it was her turn to be surprised, and curiosity got the better of her. “What is he like?”
Dante stabbed a finger toward the voices that were quickly rising between Dillon and the older man.
“That.” He chuckled. “Dillon has a very particular idea of how things should be handled, and he does not tolerate anything to the contrary. Girls always wanted his attention, but he never had time for them. He was too focused on getting where he wanted to go.”
“Are you saying he did not date?”
Dante lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “He tried once or twice, but it annoyed him. Girls in high school, he said, were more concerned about popularity or the next fashion trend.”
She had been that girl ten years ago. “And he wasn’t?”
Pursing his lips, Dante shook his head. “I think Dillon was born with a battle plan in his tightly balled fist—how to conquer the world.”
Cove laughed, instantly regretting it when her stitches pinched. “Oh,” she said, lightly pressing her hand to the spot. “When we met in Paris, he seemed so…in control. So determined, intense, focused. I could not help but be drawn to him.”
“That’s his superpower.” Dante smirked. “I was years older and jealous of that.”
This time, she made sure to keep her laugh light. “I think I would follow him to the ends of the earth.”
Dante studied her for a long moment. “And for the first time in his entire life, I think he wants the girl to do that.”
Surprised and in awe of what he spoke, she considered him, then Dillon.
“There’s catered food in there. You up to eating with the team?”
If it meant being closer to Dillon and being out of the bed—“Yes.”
He extended his arm and she climbed back to her feet. For such a tall, athletic man, he was surprisingly gentle.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Fiancée,” Dante said with a grin. “She’s another Scion—McKenna. Wedding’s four months out.”
“And is she okay with you doing this, being here?”
He inclined his head as he helped her into the main room. “She works at an embassy in Armenia.”
“There is political unrest there. Are you okay with her being there?” Cove asked, curious. “I apologize—that is not for me to ask.”
“All good,” Dante said. “The situation that brought us together gave her a lot to consider. That’s why she’s stepping down after the wedding and is trying to get a job at the White House or Capitol Hill.”
He led her to a table with three large disposable trays of food and big plastic utensils. The first tray offered rice and the second had peppered meat. The third, vegetables.
As he filled a plate for her, she considered his story. “Will you keep doing”—she motioned around the room—“this after you marry?”
“For now,” he said with a nod. “If Mick can’t find a job, then this is our only income.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” Chagrined that she had not even considered finances, she kept that to herself. It was not because she was Massimo Galtieri’s daughter, but because she had wisely invested all her modeling money.
Dante guided her to the table and set the plate before her along with plastic utensils, then snagged a bottled water.
Cove did not miss how five sets of eyes swung to her. She managed a smile, wondering if coming in here had been a mistake. She eyed Dillon in a stiff conversation with the older man who seemed to be the leader. The dynamics in this room reminded her of flint against flint, sparking with tension.
“That’s Pike,” Dante noted quietly. “The chief.”
“I don’t think they like each other.”
“Pike doesn’t like much.” Dante ducked even as Pike drew closer with Dillon.
But suddenly an argument erupted and Dillon stormed off.
Lowering her fork, Cove looked after him. Should she go after him? Her gaze shifted back to the team leader, who was looking straight at her.
He strode toward her with a grim expression. “Dante, when she’s done, get her to Dade so he can get her credentials sorted.”
“Understood, Chief.”
“Credentials?”
“ID, passport,” Pike said, then nodded. “So we can get you back home.”
“What about Dillon?”
“His are already in order.”
“Oh.” Gaze on the door where he’d vanished, Cove wondered what had set Dillon off. “But…” Something wasn’t right. She recalled how he had been so adamant about not using legal documents that could be traced. “Is it not dangerous to use real documents when my papà is still missing? And his dad too?”
Dante touched her back. “We got you, Cove. Nothing will happen to you.”
For some reason, that did not provide the reassurance that it should have.
Something…something was off. It tingled along her nape.
Made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
Even as she gave them the information, she kept looking toward the door, waiting for Dillon to return. To set her world to right again.
The men of the team were funny, snarky, and raucous. It was…exhausting. But once her documents were done—again, which made no sense to her—she needed to lie down. Her legs were trembling and her arms felt like anchors.
Dante helped her back to the bed, and she sat on the edge of the mattress, anxious to know where Dillon had gone.
When the others were distracted, she pushed off the mattress and went to the door.
Found a hall. The right was a dead end, so she wandered to the left, which led to a juncture. Another passage spread to both sides.
“Dillon?” she called quietly, fighting a strange tremor of panic. The right had two doors that seemed locked tight. She started in the other direction and stopped short when a man rounded the corner.
It was him, the leader. The man who had a personality like a slab of granite. Pike moved with determination until he saw her. Something in his visage shot dread through her stomach.
“Dillon,” she murmured, refusing to believe what every nerve ending in her body told her. She braced against the wall. Made herself ask. “Where is Dillon?”
Pike walked toward her. The answer was written all over his terse, determined face.
“He’s gone,” she whispered, a wave of dizziness crashing over her. “No no no. He wouldn’t do this to me. He promised.” Tears exacerbated the blurriness. “We had a deal!”