Chapter 17
GINA
Iawaken the next morning with the bright yellow sunlight breaking through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom.
It’s as if the universe is shining a spotlight on last night’s encounter with Dante that played out like a dream.
Or a nightmare, depending on one’s perspective.
Last night, he was my dark hero.
Dangerous, but impossible to resist.
I can still smell the cedar of Dante’s cologne in the bed, though as usual, he’s long gone.
At the gym. At work. Or whatever he does in the moments that occupy his day.
I long to just lie in bed today, revisiting every electric moment of last night’s encounter.
But then my phone pings.
It’s Alice, sending me a meme. Even as I laugh, I wish I could tell her about my new life. That I have actual “bad boys” following me just like in her cherished mafia romance novels.
She’d be thrilled.
But then she’d be worried.
I’m in the kind of danger that has Dante giving me shooting lessons so I can save my own life.
There are so many things I couldn’t tell her about my family when we were growing up together in Irvine.
And now, when I need her the most, I can’t share anything about my life here, either.
My phone calendar flashes a message: tonight is Silvio’s party.
And thanks to Antoine, now I’ll be dressed for success. I’ll look the part.
Another win is that Silvio already likes me. Although, from what Lorenzo said, Silvio’s not as important in the organization as he thinks he is.
And Dante doesn’t seem to think much of him at all.
Still, I know I must continue to make a positive impression on Silvio and on all the other members of the old guard attending the dinner party tonight.
I get up and quickly shower and dress for the day. Though I had assumed Dante would be gone at this late-morning hour, I can hear him chatting with Ciro in the kitchen.
After what happened yesterday, it might be a little awkward to see him in the light of day. What he did to me with that gun... I could have never imagined it in a million years.
But I liked it.
I loved his display of his strength and power.
Should Dante want to revisit that fantasy, I already know I’d agree.
When I enter the breakfast area, I find Ciro inside the open kitchen and my husband sitting on one of the tall chairs at the marble island.
Ciro smiles at me. “Good morning, Mrs. Ricci.”
I greet him, then turn my attention to my husband.
“Good morning, California Girl,” he says with the edge of a smile.
I blush, charmed by the nickname. “Why are you calling me that?”
“It’s appropriate with your sun-streaked hair. The name fits.”
I bite my lip. “I assumed you liked women with dark hair...”
“Never assume,” he says, walking over to embrace me. “I like this particular blonde.”
With that, he ruffles my hair like I’m ten years old.
When he puts his arms around me, I fold into him, breathing in his signature cedar scent.
With him, I’m safe.
Ciro turns on the water faucet, giving us the illusion of privacy.
I take a breath. I shouldn’t say it. It’s too soon. Dante’s not ready.
But after last night, with the gun and the mirror and the way he looked at me, I can’t hold it in anymore.
“I love you, Dante,” I say, looking up into his deep brown eyes.
He goes still. I see his jaw tighten.
Though his arms still encircle me, he doesn’t say it back.
He doesn’t say anything.
Then he releases me, and leads me into the living room.
My chest aches. I knew he wouldn’t say it. But I’d hoped.
“Look at that,” he says, gesturing to the city view window before us.
Overnight several inches of snow have blanketed Manhattan.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen the city like this. I wonder what the streets will look like?”
“We’ll find out tonight on our way to Silvio’s. And snow on the road will be the least of our problems.”
I turn to him. What does that mean?
After last night, I had forgotten about the Petrovs, the men who trailed me and Angie yesterday.
“Will they attack? Since we’ll all be gathered at Silvio’s, they could see it as their time to make a move,” I ask.
Dante shakes his head. “No. Not tonight. I’ve studied their tactics. They operate like a cat. They enjoy playing with their prey before consuming it.”
His face goes dark as he speaks these words. Seeing that the conversation has upset me, he forces a smile as he strokes my hair.
“I shouldn’t have told you anything about it. But I want you to learn to shoot a gun so you can save yourself if…”
“If what?” I ask, trying to make sense of whatever he’s not telling me.
He shrugs. Like it’s no big deal.
“If I get taken down first. If I’m not there to protect you.
You’ll need to save yourself, Gina. No one’s going to come to your rescue, not if I’m down.
Not even my most trusted soldiers. I’ve seen it happen.
And I can’t blame them. They’ll run to save their own skins.
Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Yes,” I say, reluctantly. I’d just prefer to think it impossible for anyone to take Dante down.
“Good,” he says, tilting up my chin. “Now, take a good look at the snow blanketing Manhattan in case it melts before Christmas. And now let me show you your Christmas present. The holiday has come early this year.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come here.”
He leads me to one of the sofas, and I gasp to find an enormous red package. It’s almost waist high. “It’s so big, Dante. What could it possibly be?”
“Guess.”
I study the package. It could be a television set, but my room already has a high-tech screen. “You’ve given me so much already, the only possible thing would be jewels. And the box is way too big for that.”
“Well, that depends on how big the jewels are,” Dante says, and we both laugh.
“I give up. I have no idea.”
He urges me toward the box. “Open it and find out.”
I sit down beside the enormous box, my fingers on the ribbon.
Then I hear it. A sound. Muffled and soft.
I freeze. “Dante. What is this?”
He says nothing, but his grin grows. Another sound. An insistent yip.
My heart leaps. “Is it—?”
“Open the box already,” he commands.
I lift the top. Nestled in red tissue paper is a tiny French Bulldog puppy. All black, sleek, and hardly bigger than my hand.
“Oh my God!”
The puppy looks up at me, ears perked.
I swear it flashes me a cute puppy smile before yipping again.
When I scoop it to my chest, it nuzzles against me, warm and soft.
My eyes sting. “Dante,” I say, my voice breaking. “You. remembered.”
“It’s nothing,” he says, looking away. “You said you wanted one.”
But it’s not nothing.
“Oh, Dante,” I say, rising to kiss him, still holding the puppy. “He is adorable.”
“When we were walking in the park the other day, I realized how much having a dog meant to you. It makes sense you’d get lonely when I’m at work.”
“I’m so happy.” I take another look at the tiny black Frenchie with a white spot between his eyes.
“You look so delicious, I’m going to call you Biscotti,” I tell him.
The tiny puppy yips, and I hug him tighter. “Dante, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Just keep him out of my way,” Dante says.
He’s still smiling, but his tone says he really means it.
“Of course, Dante. I’ll keep him in my room. You’ll never hear a peep from him.”
“You do that,” he says, looking at me a long moment.
“I was impressed by the way you took to handling a gun. I’m going to start you with formal lessons at the shooting range.”
I stop stroking Biscotti’s warm fur and look up at Dante in surprise.
“Are there new developments? A new risk?”
“Like I said, there’s always risk. You need to be prepared. That’s all.”
I turn my attention back to Biscotti.
I’m not looking forward to the range, but I know Dante doesn’t make statements without reason.
Sometime soon, I may be tested. And from what Dante’s said, the choice is simply mastering the skills to save my own life.