24. Dante
24
DANTE
I know exactly what I’m doing.
And I can’t seem to bring myself to care.
I’m married. I have a wife. She’s the woman lying in my bed, wrapped up in the sheets with me, as fuckable as she’s ever been.
Victoria is a pain in my ass but I won’t let her be a complication.
I just hope she understands. Like I keep telling her, once this mess with Lombardi is done, so are we.
She’s not going to remain my wife. I swore that shit off years ago and breaking that oath to myself isn’t the least bit appealing.
But the feel of Victoria’s soft lips tangling with mine is enough to make me harder than I’ve ever been.
It was bad enough knowing she trusted me. She’s definitely terrified of what’s to come, but if it all works out the way it should, she’ll be fine and in Paris within the next thirty days.
If not, it means I’ve failed. And I don’t plan on doing that anytime soon. She deserves to live her little dream in Paris, spending her early mornings at her bakery and her afternoons sipping a latte or visiting the Louvre, doing whatever else girls do in the heart of France.
I’m sure shopping comes into it at some point.
“That’s enough, princess.”
Yeah, that was supposed to come out more authoritative, but when the tip of her tongue touched mine… Fuck. I’m starting to lose control, getting lost in the heat of lust, just like I did with my ex.
I promised myself I’d never fall down that rabbit hole again, and I’m not about to break it.
Whatever little experiment Victoria is trying to work through, I can assure her it won’t result in love or a five-year anniversary.
“Why?” she mutters against our joined mouths. “You’re my husband. Take advantage of it.”
Absolutely not.
I meant what I said about mediocre sex. Victoria seems like a real pillow princess, the type of girl who always likes to be on the bottom and taken softly, reverently.
I hate that shit.
“I’m not taking advantage of you,” I assert as evenly as I can. She’s not making it easy, but I’m not looking to make me any harder.
“I want you to.”
Fuck me.
Pulling away from her sweet and intoxicating lips, I take my first deep inhale since she first began kissing me.
I’m not going to break this girl’s heart. That’s not to say I’m some conceited asshole that’s used to women falling at my feet, but Victoria is young and optimistic about life.
I want her to stay that way.
“Listen, princess,” I start, not knowing what else to say. I have no wise words to share and my thoughts feel too…mushy…to share. “You don’t have to do anything?—”
“It’s got nothing to do with obligation,” Victoria replies, her eyes clouded with a lusty haze, “and everything to do with having a little bit of fun while we’re in this.”
Now I’m starting to feel used.
“I’m not going to be your boyfriend after this,” I remind her, making the words sound firm and just a bit mean. “And you need to get to school.”
“I’m not going to school,” she argues again. “But, if you’re really so set on me learning something today, you could always instruct me?—”
“Go take a shower. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.” I cut her off, pointing toward the bathroom. I cannot possibly be expected to ignore her continued begging for me to fuck her senseless. Not when she’s inches away from me, her lips swollen from my kiss.
I honestly expect her to put up more of a fight, but she promptly rolls out of bed, her back to me. And then she raises her baggy t-shirt over her head and lets it drift to the floor.
The swath of smooth, sun-kissed skin proves she’s not wearing a bra. Her light shrug as she lifted the fabric over her head proves she gives zero fucks that I know it.
That I saw it.
And that I just told her to cool down while I try to do the same because I’m not trying to make shit more complicated than it has to be. At the end of the day, we have different goals and aspirations. The last thing I need right now is her crying over some imagined romance, not when I already have a mob leader riding my ass and watching my every move to see if he should put me at the top of his hit list.
When the bathroom door finally clicks closed and I hear the shower running, I finally adjust the bulge inside my pants and fish out my cell phone to check for any helpful messages to set my mind on the present.
I find none.
My hopes of Enzo—my potential two-million-dollar loan—answering my messages are beginning to dwindle down into a fantasy that’ll never come to fruition. He must be on an assignment and unavailable to help.
And that’s it.
I can’t wait on him. If Lombardi tweaks the agreement by so much as a week, we’re fucked.
And speaking of fucked, that means Victoria needs to get pregnant ASAP.
Or fake pregnant?
I don’t know all the exact terms of that shit from her trust. But if her mother or lawyer is looking for a positive pregnancy test, I can get that any damn day. Cash is king, after all.
Maybe we got married because Victoria is pregnant.
Getting out of bed, I begin planning my next move. We need to deceive everyone and get as much of that trust fund in her account as we possibly can. I’m sure there’s someone at Thronewood University who got knocked up, but I can’t have a bunch of gossip girls blabbing about a professor asking for a pregnancy test.
Hard pass.
Hanging out at a clinic, waiting for a pregnant woman to waltz in, seems too mundane. I wouldn’t want someone thinking I was threatening her.
A loud thudding sound ricochets off the bathroom tub and I wait to hear Victoria start cursing, but she doesn’t. I wait in silence until it happens again.
There’s still no sign she’s okay and my brain is immediately conjuring images of what could make that sound other than a dropped shampoo bottle.
I checked this place before we got in.
Yeah, but did you check for hidden panels in the bathroom?
Quietly, I stand and move quickly towards the bathroom. I was part of an assignment years back where a politician’s daughter was kidnapped from her hotel room using hidden doors. The crew was able to lead their victims—all women—out of the hotel without being caught on the security cameras. The perfect blend of sex trafficking and deviant genius.
And the last thing I need is for Victoria to be taken by yet another criminal ring.
I shove the door open and find the shower curtain closed. My heart is beating in double-time. I won’t be able to relax until I see her damn face.
I rip the curtain open and Victoria jolts, yelping as she covers her body with her arms and stares at me.
“Why didn’t you make a noise?”
Victoria frowns, confused. “Was I supposed to? I just dropped the bottle a couple times.”
Adrenaline still pumps furiously through my veins. I was prepared for a fight, and I find myself slightly disappointed that there’s no immediate threat. With all the pent-up aggression flowing freely through my body, I need an outlet. One that isn’t Victoria.
But my body doesn’t want to calm down long enough to get the obvious bulge in my boxers under control. My dick is more than ready for action as I take in the water flowing over her curves.
Her naked curves.
“Can you hand me a towel, please?”
Her voice is prim and sweet, painfully virtuous. I snap my eyes shut briefly as the word wife pounds like a drumbeat in my skull.
You married this woman. Legally, she’s yours.
But I’ve never been the type to care about the legal shit. I wish my brother had, though. I could use his support right about now.
Victoria is the forbidden fruit that I desperately want to sink my teeth into.
Stepping away from the tub, I grab a white linen towel from the fluffy stack on the shelf and Victoria promptly takes it while I force my eyes to the back wall, away from her body.
When I don’t sense any movement in my peripheral vision, I slowly slide my focus back to her face.
“Can you move?” she asks, and I feel like an idiot.
There’s no reason for me to still be standing in here, but I can’t make myself move much further than the door frame. I don’t know what it is about Victoria, but she’s something else. The label I first stuck her with, prissy little rich girl, no longer feels accurate.
No, this girl wants to go to Paris and bake pastries.
She wants to work .
Earn her own way.
I can’t do anything but respect that.
Victoria begins to move around me, but my arm shoots out to block her way and I prop my palm against the doorframe.
“My backup plan to get ahold of the last two million dollars is a flop. We don’t have time to wait,” I rattle off, staring at her naked shoulder, the delicate curve of her collarbone. “We need to get a fake pregnancy test and pretend I knocked you up. That’s why we got married when we did.”
“That sounds like a better plan,” she replies. “It’d be harder to get me pregnant for real since I’m on the pill.”
Of course you are, princess.
Just keep rubbing in how complicated this shit is and how available you are.
“Do you know anyone?—”
“No,” she quickly replies. “It’s not like girls go around flaunting that fact. I can do some digging, ask around. I might have better luck over at Graham, honestly.”
I nod my head. “Good. To get the other quarter, you just have to show you’re pregnant, right? Nothing more?”
“Yes. I made sure of that. But I thought you said we may not need to pay Angelo.”
“It’s just another backup,” I state. “In case Lombardi starts getting too antsy. I don’t want to test him when he has a whole mob of killers at his disposal. I’m hoping to keep him as happy as possible for now.”
“How are you going to do that?”
By beating the shit out of the sheriff’s son.
I’m not looking forward to it but, if he really was stalking some girl and decided to rape her, he deserves it.
“I’ll take care of it,” I mutter. “Don’t worry?—”
“I’m not doing that,” Victoria interrupts, her voice dripping with annoyance. “This vague shit. I’m not looking for you to tell me every single detail, but if you’re about to do something stupid, I need to know where you’re going to be.”
I quirk a brow. What the hell does she think she’s going to do? “I can handle myself, princess. I’m not going to take you with me.”
“I didn’t ask you to. But I am expecting some measure of transparency. My life is in your hands and vice versa. By protecting and looking out for me, you’ve put a target on your head. And I want to be able to keep you from harm, too. I know it may not be worth much, but I’ll have your back.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “I can be useful. I just don’t want any surprises.”
“I don’t think you can handle all my secrets, princess. It’s best I keep you in the dark as much as possible, just in case I become the focus of a criminal investigation.”
“You can’t be that bad at your job. You’re still walking around a free man, after all.”
“I’ve been to prison before,” I remind her. “So obviously I’m not that good.”
“Was it for illegal activity?”
“No, but?—”
“Then you’ll be fine,” she says with equal parts confidence and inexperience. “Meanwhile, I’ll work on the pregnancy test, but what will you be doing?”
“Princess—”
“I’m not a child, Dante,” she scolds exasperatedly. “Obviously.”
Obviously.
Pulling in a deep inhale, I give her a small piece of what my role is. Hopefully it will shut her up. “Lombardi has me doing a job.”
“What kind of job?” I stare at her, silently telling her I don’t want to discuss it further. “I don’t care, husband. Treat me like an equal partner.”
“We’re not equal,” I blurt out because it’s the truth.
While I might be the man capable of murder, she could easily be the reason for it. The force that could make me execute another man, either because her pretty little lips asked or because he touched what belongs to me.
The idea infuriates me and only confirms my suspicions.
I don’t like the thought of Liam having her, Angelo taking her, or any other man learning what she sounds like when his tongue slides inside her mouth.
Discovering that she tastes like sweet salvation and straight up sin wrapped together in something that was meant to be innocent.
But she’s not.
I’m not.
Victoria has a wicked side to her, one I don’t want to unravel. I’m sure she’s used to getting what she wants, but I’m not going to be the one to give it to her.
My wife doesn’t reply to my shitty admission. Instead, she drops into a low squat to grab her clothes from the floor and I see a pair of bright pink panties bunched in her hand.
Her face is nearly eye-level with my deprived cock and she can’t possibly miss the erection pressing against my pants.
And she has the balls to shove that lacey scrap of fabric into my front pocket, giving the slight bulge a pat.
“For later.”
For me to stroke my cock with while she’s in class.
“You’re really pushing it, princess,” I bite out, but I can’t tell whether I’m furious or turned on. Only one of those options is safe for both of us. “Get dressed and stop fucking around.”
“I already told you I’m not going to class today,” she answers softly. “So you either take your wife to breakfast, or I’m going by myself. Take your pick.”
“You have class.”
Her blue eyes don’t shift from mine and it’s torture to have her so damn close and yet so far out of reach. “You said that already.”
I’m not saying it again.
She’s a married woman and I don’t have time for childish games.
“C’mon.” I reach down to help her up, keeping a death grip on my self-control. “I’ll take you to get something to eat.”
Victoria happily accepts that answer, sliding her palm into mine as she rises from the floor like the innocent goddess she pretends to be.
Innocence would be an overstatement as her forearm grazes against my hard length. I hiss at the unsatisfying contact.
Her sparkling eyes fly to mine and she gives me a saccharine smile. “Sorry.”
She’s not sorry.
She’s anything but.