Chapter 43 #2
All I had were my brains and my wiles, and now, just when I thought I found someone I could trust, he let me down. He didn’t even have the courtesy to give me a heads up; he just threw an old girlfriend in my face and made me a laughingstock in front of the monsters who already thought I was weak.
“I am pissed about Valeria,”—okay, I was more than pissed—“but I am furious you walked right into Rocco’s trap.” Of course, I hadn’t seen his ploy either, not until it was right in front of me, but I was too hurt right now to admit it.
“Then teach me.” He spread his hands. “Because I don’t know how to play these games, not like you do.”
“No,” I told him flatly. “It’s too late for that. Not when everyone now sees you for what you are.”
“And who is that?” His voice was deadly soft, the sort of tone you’d use right before you carved out someone’s heart, but I didn’t care.
I wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt me. I needed him to bleed like I’d bled last night, the subject of everyone’s pity and amusement, like a bad punch line of an even worse joke.
“Go on, then.” His voice went smoother than velvet. “Tell me what I am.”
“Someone who’s willing to sacrifice his own wife to get what he wants.” Anger pushed the words out of my mouth, even though I was going too far, even though I was exposing myself now, showing him everything in my heart.
“A male who would sell me out and never look back at the wreckage he left behind. Because he doesn’t care about anything but himself.”
At that, Dante’s smile vanished entirely.
“You’re the one who agreed to this arrangement,” he growled dangerously. “Last I checked, no one held a knife to your throat in that chapel.”
“The priest literally had a knife in his hand. You forced me to marry you, then you kidnapped me,” I shouted. “I distinctly remember being tossed over your shoulder. Like a sack of flour.”
“And you could have slit my throat at any point,” he shot back. “You didn’t.”
“You took my knives, asshole,” I reminded him. “Otherwise, that,”—I jerked my head at the poor, impaled dummy—“would be you, Dante Dominico. Pincushion, remember?”
The air between us crackled, thick with everything we weren’t saying.
Would never fucking say because why bother?
I turned away from him, yanking the knives from the wall a little too aggressively and dumping them into a pile well within reach. Maybe a mistake, maybe not; the day was still young.
“I can’t trust you.” I blew out a shaky breath. “Not anymore. Not even as my pretend husband in our pretend marriage.”
Not with how I was reacting to last night’s debacle. Not with him meeting with Nico and gods-know-who-else behind my back. I was losing sight of my purpose, I had no safety net, and I fucking hated feeling so untethered.
I threw the knife. It hit the target dead center.
Behind me, Dante exhaled.
“I was only playing a part,” he offered, his voice tight. “Valeria was a convenient prop. And you’re right about it all. Rocco blackmailed me into doing a job for him, but it’s a setup. Valeria assured me she would make a better wife than you ever would.”
“How fucking wonderful for you,” I snapped, pulling another knife down from the shelf. “I hope the two of you are happy and have the lives you deserve.”
“That’s enough, Em,” he growled, starting toward me.
I took a step back.
“Only my brother is allowed to call me that. Stay right there,” I warned, holding the knife between us. “Or I swear, I will stab you for real.”
He kept coming.
“Dante.”
He lunged, his hand closing around my wrist, then my back was flat against the wall, knife hand neutralized, his body heat scorching my front, infuriatingly, horribly tempting.
“She won’t make me a better wife; do you want to know why?” He leaned in, eyes so close to mine, I saw every fleck of gold around the edges.
“I don’t give a good godsdamn about your future marital plans. You can fuck all the way off, Dante Dominico. You and Valeria and Rocco and the rest.” I tried to twist free. He tightened his hold, pinning me in place, and I gritted my teeth in frustration.
I shifted my weight, snapped my knee toward his crotch. He pivoted, his muscled thigh absorbing the impact, using my own momentum to trap me with his body. I tried to twist away, and the knife dropped from my fingers.
He caught the blade before it even touched the mat.
Show-off.
We struggled, bodies pressed close, angry breaths and insults—mostly from me—rasping between us. His hand captured my other wrist and pinned it above my head, the wood cold against my knuckles.
“Let. Me. Go,” I grated.
“Not until you stop trying to kill me,” he grunted as I knocked my knee into his thigh again, aiming for his fucking elusive balls. “Let me talk, Ember, just give me one minute.”
“No, you won’t get another of those from me,” I shot back. “Play your games with the rest of them, but I won’t stand by and be made a fool.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him about the clandestine meeting with Nico, about all the other secrets he was hiding. Ask this male who the fuck he was, really.
His eyes burned. “I would never make a fool of you. Never.”
“Too late, you already did,” I countered.
Something raw flickered across his face. Regret.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t think. I didn’t… gods, I never meant to use you, Emberline. I had everything backward. I thought I was using Valeria and my old connection with Rocco, but I was careless and clumsy about everything. I did not mean to hurt you.”
“I’m not hurt. I’m pissed off. And I think,”—I drew a shuddering breath—“that I grossly underestimated you. I do think you’re cruel. And I think you will do anything, sacrifice anyone, to have your revenge.”
“You’re right. I would sacrifice anything, but not you.” He shook his head. “Never you.”
His grip loosened—just a fraction, enough I dropped my weight, yanked my wrist down, and slammed the heel of my free hand into his sternum. Dante staggered back a step, more from surprise than anything.
I followed, driving my shoulder into his midsection, hooking my foot behind his heel, swiping a knife off the pile as I let momentum do the rest, and we went down hard.
The mat cushioned the brunt of the impact, but the breath still whooshed out of his lungs.
I landed on top of him, knees bracketing his hips, one hand pinning his shoulder, the other shoving my knife against his throat. His hands fell onto the mat, the picture of surrender, his blue eyes practically glowing.
“There,” I purred. “This is the perfect analogy for our failed marriage experiment, don’t you think?”
He laughed, breathless, like he’d won the fucking lottery.
“Now who’s playing games, wife?” he rasped against my blade.
“For once in your life, just shut up,” I pressed the flat edge down harder until his skin turned white. “Why can’t you ever stop talking?”
“You’re jealous.” His accusation was blunt, and the quiet accusation hit harder than any punch.
“Of Valeria?” I scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You’re furious she touched me,” he challenged, a secretive smile on his lips. “You’re furious I let her. But mostly, you’re furious you care.”
“I don’t. The only thing I care about is how fast I can leave. Put you and this dump behind me. Go back to my pampered life of luxury.”
“Liar.” Our gazes locked.
“Ask me why she won’t make me a better wife, Emberline.” His eyes glowed like polished jewels in the sun. “Ask me, unless you’re afraid of the answer.”
I despised how fast my pulse was jumping, like a bird trapped in a cage, fruitlessly beating its wings, wishing for freedom. I didn’t want to know the answer. I wanted to walk away and never see Dante Dominico again.
Dante reached up, touched his finger to the drumming hollow of my throat, his expression serious, that solid blue stare an anchor, drawing me in deeper.
“Stop being a coward and ask me, Emberline. Ask me why.”
“Why?” The word hissed out between my teeth, as though he’d dragged it out of me through sheer willpower, the fucking bastard.
“Because I already have the wife I want. This is exactly where I want to be, with you, holding a knife to my throat, telling me how much I’ve fucked up. Holding me accountable. Knowing your own worth enough to realize the truth. You are better than me. In every way.”
“Nice words,” I studied his face, searching for the deception. “Too bad they don’t matter.”
I couldn’t let myself get sucked in again, couldn’t fall for lies as smooth as the male saying them.
“Fifty years ago, I could have mated Valeria, but I walked away.” He sounded so calm. “I walked away and never thought of her again. I forgot about her so thoroughly, it never occurred to me she might be there last night.” That finger drifted up to my throat and started stroking along my vein.
“There is no scenario, other than me being dead, when I would ever leave you, tesoro. Walking away is not in the cards for me, so if you’re going to kill me, then kill me now. Use that knife in your hand because that’s the only way you’ll ever be free of me.”
“What we have is a business arrangement.” I pressed down harder, my whole body trembling. I needed to cut off these lies. Stop him from talking before I started believing them.
“A business arrangement that has turned into something else,” he agreed easily. “What does it matter how this started if I will always choose you, anyway? What does anything matter if this is the only place I want to be? With you?”
I was trying to come up with something pithy when his gaze dropped to my mouth.
I became very aware of how—and where—I was sitting.
Of how his hard, muscled body tensed beneath me—solid, coiled with restrained strength. The slow rise and fall of his chest against mine. The way his fingers tightened on my wrist every time my hips shifted against his, a fire burning in my belly as I realized his cock was pressed against my core.
“This was a mistake,” I muttered, not moving an inch.
“Probably,” his lips tilted, that infuriating almost-smile tugging at the corner.