6. Dante
CHAPTER SIX
dante
I sit quietly, letting her story sink in a little. This girl has been through hell and back. No wonder she’s so hardened.
“Fuck.” I say.
“Yeah. Fuck, indeed,” she replies.
“I’m really sorry you went through that, Bianca,” I say, scooting closer to the glass.
“Okay, now it’s your turn,” she says.
I stop for a second and think about what I’m about to do. It really won’t matter. As soon as she sees Dmitri, he’ll tell her who we are, anyway.
“I work for Rocco Moretti.” I admit.
“Fucking Moretti’s. I should have known. Goddamnit, Dmitri.” she says, dropping her face into her hands.
“Now you know who I am and why this is happening, yeah?”
“Yes… I told Dmitri to just leave it alone. It wasn’t worth the backlash. Fucking pyromaniac.” she continues. “When Dmitri and I were kids, a rival of our dad’s took the two of us and my mom. They kept us in a tiny room with no food, no water, and no dignity. After a few days, they separated us and took my mom into another room. By the time Dmitri and I were able to get out, she was already dead. Those fucking Albanians burned her alive. Dmitri was the one who found her charred body in a shed on the property. It really fucked him up. He was institutionalized but never got ‘better. ‘ His urge to set things on fire is some coping thing, I don’t fucking know. It’s like a dark part of him he can’t control and that I have to fucking clean up after. “
I sit silent, letting her continue to tell her story.
“When he found out that your boss’s family killed one of our guys, specifically a friend of Dmitri’s, he was dead set on burning down your club. I tried to stop him, but no one can get through when Dmitri’s darkness takes over.”
“Damn that’s pretty fucked. I get it, though. Having a rage, a darkness you can’t control. When I was three, both of my parents were killed in front of me. My dad owned a butcher shop on 34th, and my mom worked the register. They served Rocco and the rest of the Morettis in exchange for security service – they were supposed to be protected. The shop was right on the edge of Moretti turf, and with a young kid, they were terrified all the time.”
“Why didn’t they move the shop?” She asks, sounding genuinely interested.
“Well they didn’t have much money and what they did have was already invested in the shop. We lived in a tiny apartment upstairs and it wasn’t a palace but it was our home.”
“So what happened?” She continues, scooting a little closer to the glass.
“Rocco and his boys were in the shop, and some of Li Jun’s guys started firing rounds from outside. My parents were both killed in the crossfire. I was sitting behind the deli counter, watching the whole thing. All I remember was trying to get to my mom as she and my dad lay in front of me… full of bullet holes… their eyes frozen open with nothing but fear behind them. I just remember being entirely covered in their blood, holding onto my mom’s lifeless body.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. That’s seriously dark. I guess people like us don’t get to choose this life, huh? It kind of chooses us.” She consoles.
“Yeah. Rocco took me home that day and took care of my parents funeral and memorial service. He actually felt bad about the whole thing. It might’ve been the only time Rocco’s heart wasn’t a fucking cold, gaping black hole. He took me in and raised me as one of his own. I may not be a Moretti by blood, but without them I would have ended up in the system, bouncing from foster home to foster home.”
“But you also wouldn’t be an orphan if it wasn’t for him.”
“Trust me, when I was a teenager, Rocco got an earful about that. I had this emotional awakening after a job and I fucking hated Rocco for what happened to me. He quickly put me on my ass and reminded me of the life he has given me. He’s the only father I’ve really ever known. I miss my parents everyday but I refuse to live in fear like they did. I prefer to be feared.”
“So… here’s to dead parents?” She says softly as she lifts her water bottle up to the glass, making a toast.
I laugh and raise mine to meet hers.
“To dead parents,” I repeat, and we both take a swig.
I’ve never talked about my parents to anyone but Rocco and Gio. Something about this girl makes me feel… I’m not sure what I feel, but it’s nothing I’ve felt before.
I watch her chug her water, drops landing on her exposed breast, pillowing out of the top of her tank top. The jacket she was in is now on the floor next to her. I stare at those little water droplets, wishing it was my cum. I know I shouldn’t think like that and I was raised to respect women but fuck. I want her in a bad way.
“Okay, so I know why Dmitri is, uh, the way he is. I know how you got that scar. What’s your story?” I ask, trying to pretend I’m not thinking about burying my face in her perfect tits.
“It’s really nothing special. You know as well as I do, if you grow up in families like ours, you don’t have the free will to plan your life. You train, you fight, you train, you kill, you follow orders. All in the name of loyalty and family .” She puts air quotes around that last part.
“Ah, so you’re saying you’re nothing special, then? I got it.” I make a smug face.
“Fuck you.” She chirps, both of us almost laughing. We aren’t that level of friends yet but it just felt easy with her now.
“Don’t tempt me,” I say, shooting my shot. She looks at me for a few seconds, and I swear it’s like she is contemplating whether or not she wants to flirt back.
“Trust me, Dante. You really don’t want anything to do with me.” She drops her smile, and all the light in her eyes fades. I felt terrible about how sad she looked but my name dancing on her lips had my dick twitching in my pants. Why does this girl already have a pull on me? And what kind of fucked up shit is she keeping inside. Is it possible that she has demons like I do? All I know right now is that I have no desire to be anywhere else but listening to my beautiful prisoner and fighting every urge to rip the door open and kiss her on the mouth.