Chapter 20
DANTE
Viktor leaves sometime after sunset.
I stay sitting at the kitchen island long after the door closes behind him, whiskey glass still in my hand.
“I think you accidentally turned my sister into our father.”
The words won’t stop replaying in my head.
Neither does the image of Leigh smashing somebody’s kneecap in.
I’ve watched the change happen slowly over the last year.
She stopped smiling as much.
Stopped ignoring Gabriel during meetings.
Stopped making sarcastic little comments under her breath whenever the older men started talking politics and territory disputes.
Then came the colder shit.
She started sitting in on interrogations willingly.
She now carries a gun with her everywhere she goes.
And blood doesn’t affect her one bit. Not anymore.
A year ago, Leigh used to look away when bodies were being removed from River Street.
Now she participates and Gabriel looks proud of her for it.
I take another drink.
The sky outside darkens slowly while rain taps softly against the windows while I sit here thinking about all the ways I fucked this up.
I spent an entire year convincing myself distance would protect her.
Meanwhile she was turning into a monster right in front of me.
At some point, I loosen my tie and unbutton the top of my shirt because the entire room suddenly feels too fucking tight.
The door finally opens sometime after midnight.
My head lifts immediately.
Leigh walks in, her dark coat hanging loosely from her shoulders while rainwater still clings to strands of her hair.
She notices me instantly, but has an automatic shift to her facial expression.
A year ago, she used to soften when she saw me.
Now she goes cold.
Completely fucking cold.
Her eyes flick toward the whiskey bottle beside me before settling back onto my face.
“What’re you doing here?”
I set the whiskey glass down slowly against the marble.
“Waiting for you. Figured it was time for us to have a little chat.”
Leigh lets out a scoff under her breath as she shuts the penthouse door behind her. “Little late now, don’t you think?” She says as she shrugs her coat off her of shoulders.
My jaw tightens instantly.
She tosses the coat on to the entryway table and removes her heels before walking further into the penthouse and into the kitchen, straight to the liquor cabinet.
I watch her pull a wine glass from the shelf before pouring herself a drink.
A year ago, she used to complain that red wine tasted disgusting.
Now she drinks it every night from what Viktor tells me.
“That your third glass or your fourth?” she asks casually before taking a sip.
“Lost count.”
“Shocking.” She sarcastically says.
My jaw tightens slightly at the flatness in her voice.
Everything about her is just off now.
Leigh leans back against the counter across from me, fingers loose around the glass. “So?” she asks finally. “What life-changing revelation dragged you into my kitchen at midnight?”
I exhale slowly through my nose. “Viktor talked to me.”
Her eyes narrow slightly over the rim of her glass before she takes another drink.
“Of course he did,” she mutters.
“He’s worried about you.”
Her laugh is filled with bitterness. “Cute.”
“Leigh.”
“No seriously,” she interrupts while motioning vaguely with the whiskey glass. “You guys should start a support group at this point. Viktor’s worried about me. Mira’s worried about me.” She tilts her head slightly. “Now suddenly you’re worried about me too.”
“I never stopped.”
Leigh goes still for half a second before her expression hardens again.
“There’s the problem,” she says quietly. “You don’t get to say shit like that anymore.”
I drag a hand over my face slowly. “I know.”
“No.” She shakes her head slightly. “I really don’t think you do.”
Rain taps against the windows behind her while Manhattan glows outside in blurred streaks of white and gold.
The entire penthouse suddenly feels like it’s closing in on me again.
“You shouldn’t be working with your father,” I mutter finally.
“There it is.”
“What?” I ask.
“The real reason you’re here.”
I stare at her blankly. “What are you talking about?”
Leigh stares at me for a second before shaking her head slightly.
“You still don’t get it.” She mutters.
“What exactly am I not getting?”
“That this was always going to happen.” She motions vaguely toward herself with the wine glass. “Maybe not exactly like this, but eventually? Yeah.”
“No,” I answer immediately. “This isn’t who you are.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “You say that like you know me better than I know myself.”
“I do know you.”
She scoffs. “You did know me, Dante. Not anymore.” She takes a breath and continues. “You knew the version of me that existed around you,” she says quietly. “That’s not the same thing.”
I stare at her across the kitchen island while rain continues pelting the windows.
A year ago, this conversation would’ve looked completely different.
She would’ve been yelling by now.
Crying probably.
Throwing shit if she got angry enough.
Now?
Now she’s just standing there cold as ice while tearing me apart word by word.
“You shouldn’t be doing this shit with Gabriel,” I mutter again.
“Will you just stop? I’m not doing this with you.”
She walks out of the kitchen and toward the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. I push myself up from the stool, setting my glass down on the island before following after her, the whiskey hitting me slightly when I move.
My jaw tightens instantly as I stop directly in front of her, close enough now that the tension between us feels suffocating. “No. We’re fucking talking about this. Right here. Right now.” I stare directly at her. “Stop running from it.”
She takes another quick sip of wine. “You disappear for a year and then walk back in here acting like I’m the one avoiding shit?” A bitter laugh leaves her. “I think you just can’t stomach seeing what I turned into.”
“I can’t handle watching him turn you into a weapon.”
Leigh laughs quietly under her breath.
“You wanna know something funny?” she asks. “My father didn’t turn me into this.”
The way she says it makes something uncomfortable crawl up my spine.
“Leigh-”
“No. Seriously.” Her eyes lock onto mine. “Do you know what changed after that night?”
I already know I’m not going to like the answer.
“I stopped being scared of becoming him.” She takes another slow breath before looking back at me. “You wanna know why?” Her voice quiets slightly.“Because when the person you care about most acts like you never meant a damn thing to them, it kind of kills any reason you had left to stay good.”
“Leigh, I didn’t mean it like that.” I drag a hand over my face frustratedly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d take it that way. I just wanted to get Marco the fuck out of our business.”
“I know,” she interrupts immediately.
That catches me completely off guard. I stare at her for a second, disbelief immediately settling across my face. “What?”
“I know you didn’t mean it literally,” she continues, “I’m not stupid, Dante.”
“Then why the fuck are we still doing this?”
Her expression hardens instantly.
“Because you still said it.” Her voice stays quiet, but it cuts deeper than yelling ever could.
“And in that moment, I realized whatever I thought was happening between us probably wasn’t real.
” She swallows slightly before continuing.
“We were constantly thrown together into chaos. We never had space from each other long enough to know if any of it actually meant something.” Her eyes lock onto mine.
“Maybe it was just proximity pretending to be something more.”
I drag a hand over my face slowly while trying to figure out how the hell this conversation spiraled so badly so fast. “Is that honestly what you think?”
Leigh crosses her arms over herself immediately like she already regrets saying any of it out loud. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I step closer to her. “You know damn well it wasn’t just proximity.”
Her eyes drift toward the windows for a second before dropping to the floor, like she suddenly can’t hold my gaze anymore.
The rain continues hammering against the windows behind her while Manhattan glows around us.
Leigh laughs softly under her breath, but it sounds strained now. “You really wanna do this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” she snaps suddenly. “Why now?”
Because I haven’t slept right in a fucking year.
Because every time another guy touches you at one of Gabriel’s meet-ups, I nearly put a bullet through their throats.
Instead, I say, “Because I’m tired.”
She stares at me silently.
“Tired of what?” She questions.
“Tired of pretending I don’t still lov-”
I stop myself, but it’s too late.
Her breath catches as she realizes what I was about to confess.
Leigh’s eyes drag across my face slowly like she’s trying to figure out whether or not I’m about to ruin her all over again.
Maybe we’ll ruin each other.
I take another step closer anyway.
Leigh’s voice quiets when she speaks again. “Dante.” She presses her palm to my chest, halting me in place.
It’s the first time she’s said my name tonight without anger wrapped around it.
That nearly fucking destroys me.
I reach up before thinking better of it, my fingers brushing lightly against a strand of rain-damp hair near her face.
She goes completely still.
But she doesn’t pull away.
“Tell me to stop,” I murmur quietly.
Leigh swallows hard enough I can see it.
Her green eyes stay locked onto mine.
“Are you getting a sense of deja vu? I know I am.”
Not a no.
Definitely not a fucking no.
My hand slides slowly along the side of her face, thumb brushing against her jaw while the tension between us pulls tighter and tighter together.
A year of anger.
A year of silence.
A year of wanting each other anyway.
It all crashes into the room at once.
I lean in slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop this before it happens.
But she doesn’t.
She just stands there as beautiful as usual with the city lights spilling across her skin.
Our faces hover inches apart.
Close enough that every breath mingles together.
Close enough that I can smell the wine on her lips.
Close enough that one small movement changes everything.
Her eyes flick toward my mouth before dropping away again like she hates herself for still wanting this.
Maybe I hate myself for it too.
My hand slides along the side of her face again slowly, fingers disappearing into the damp strands of hair near her neck while I watch her carefully.
“I need you to tell me to stop,” I murmur quietly as I slide the wine glass from her hand, my fingers brushing against hers in the process. I set the glass down on the end table waiting for her answer.
She swallows hard. Then finally, slowly, she nods.
That tiny bit of permission destroys whatever restraint I have left.
Our mouths crash together instantly, all that buried anger and hurt melting together between us at once.
Leigh grips the front of my shirt tightly as I pull her against me, and the quiet sound that leaves her makes me lose my mind completely.
The kiss turns heated and messy fast.
Desperate in a way I wasn’t prepared for. But would never complain about.
Her lips part against mine and I deepen the kiss immediately, my hand tightening slightly against the side of her neck while hers fist harder into my shirt.
She presses closer against me without realizing she’s doing it.
My hand slides lower instinctively, fingertips brushing along the curve of her waist beneath the thin fabric of her shirt, and her breathing catches sharply against my mouth.
“Dante,” she breathes quietly onto my lips.
I pull back barely enough to look at her, both of us breathing unevenly now while the electricity between us sizzles furiously.
Her lips are slightly swollen from kissing me.
Her emerald eyes darker than they were five minutes ago.
And she’s still gripping my shirt like she doesn’t know whether to pull me closer or shove me away.
But now, in this moment, if she asked me to ruin her all over again tonight, I already know I fucking would.