3. Samantha
SAMANTHA
Time passes in the house more slowly than I would have imagined. I’m practically on lockdown, but on occasion, I sneak out.
Dante’s always there. He keeps me in his vision even if he doesn’t speak to me, offers me a ride home at the end of the night. He’s like my fucking shadow. And as much as I want his hands all over me, that’s clearly never going to happen.
“I wish he’d leave me alone for five minutes,” I complain to my friend Sofia.
She sips her apple martini. “You’re lucky to have a hot bodyguard,” she teases. “Mine looks like he came from a zoo.”
I snort out a laugh. “Yeah, well, looking what you can’t have all the time gets old.”
“I guess it would. He’s never even…” She trails off.
“Never,” I admit, sighing heavily and glancing over at him. He’s nursing a drink. Waiting. Watching me with those too-blue eyes of his.
The reason I snuck out in the first place is that this club is on the South Side, and Papa has forbidden me because that’s Ricci’s turf.
I know I’m chasing adrenaline, but I just get so bored sitting around the house. And the South Side is where all my friends go.
Papa would call me irresponsible. Maybe I am. But when I look over at Dante, there’s no judgment in his eyes.
I can’t read what’s in them. He’s just as much as enigma now as he was when I first met him.
Only now I know my feminine wiles don’t work on him. He’s not attracted to me.
Bummer.
Sofia babbles on about Reese and Vaughn, who have recently gotten engaged. I’m barely listening. I’m staring at Dante.
It’s like he’s gotten even more handsome over the years.
He jokes that I gave him the silver in his temples and at the stubble on his jaw. Maybe I did. I’m not exactly the most peaceful person.
Maybe I would be, if I had someone like Dante to put me in my place.
I bite my lip and turn back to Sofia. “I’m happy for them.”
Out of nowhere, gunshots ring out. Sofia hits the ground, tugging me with her.
Fire explodes along the side of my arm, and I look over to see blood trickling down it.
I hit the floor as Sofia tugs again and start to pant, the blood making my eyes go out of focus.
Dante’s lower half comes into view and I look up to see him pulling his gun, sweeping the crowd as everyone disperses. He curses and crouches next to me on the floor.
“Papa,” I gasp, only wanting my father in this moment, like a child.
“He’s out of town, little one,” he says quietly. “Remember?”
I nod, gasping for breath. “Deep breaths,” he tells me. I try, but can’t seem to get any oxygen in my lungs. He helps me up. Sofia is already calling her father.
He arrives himself in a towncar and has his men sweep the area. “Dante,” I gasp, and he glances at me with a frown.
“Just a moment, little one.” He walks over to Sofia’s dad and talks with him a moment.
I don’t feel entirely present, like maybe I’m standing outside of my body watching all of this. My vision blurs and I realize I’m crying.
Dante’s back before I know it, ushering me to his car and buckling my seatbelt for me, like he always does. “I’m gonna get blood on the leather,” I mumble, more tears streaming down my face.
“I don’t care about that.” He rips off a sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt, making a bandage that makes my arm ache something fierce. “I called your father. He’s on the way back.”
“Okay.”
“Samantha.”
I sniffle, looking over at him. “Breathe,” he tells me, drawing in a breath through his nose. I copy him, and slowly my heart rate seems to slow. But I’m hyperventilating again by the time we reach the house. Papa isn’t here. He’s not here and I’m hurt and I don’t know what to do…
Dante gets out of the car and scoops me up, bridal style, just like he did that last night I was crossfaded.
He takes me into my room and then disappears into my bathroom, returning with a first aid kit. “It’s not deep. Just a graze. You won’t need stitches.”
I wipe my good hand across my face. “It hurts.” My voice sounds small and thin.
“I know, little one.” His hands are gentle, but the antiseptic stings and by the time he’s bandaged it up properly I’m crying all over again. “Elio will be home in a few hours.” He goes to stand up from where he’s been crouching and I can’t breathe again.
I reach out and grab his forearm. “Don’t go,” I plead.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He shifts closer to me and I gasp in breaths. “Copy me, little one. Deep breath in. Hold it for three beats. Deep breath out.”
He does what he instructs, in through his nostrils, out through his mouth. I copy him, focusing only on his intense blue eyes. Finally, I start to feel my chest loosen up. “You won’t leave me alone?”
“I won’t leave you alone.” He rubs a hand down my good arm, making me shiver. “Are you cold?”
Before I can answer, he’s already taking off his leather jacket, draping it over my shoulders. This is the most Dante has ever spoken to me, and all it took was a bullet.
I laugh wildly and Dante frowns. “You’re okay, little one.”
“I’m okay.”
He nods, still crouching in front of me.
I can’t help myself. I need to thank him, need… something.
I lean forward and press my lips to his.
He hesitates, his lips hard and unyielding before they melt against mine. He climbs onto the bed, covering my body with his.
I moan, surprised, into his mouth as he kisses me, his tongue sliding along mine, teeth nipping at my bottom lip. He presses his body against mine and I love the weight of him, absentmindedly raising my arms to put them around his neck.
When I move my bad arm, I wince and cry out against his mouth and Dante pulls back from me like he’s been burned. His blue eyes search my face. “Fuck. I hurt you.”
I scramble up into a sitting position on the bed, panicked, not wanting to lose this. “No, you didn’t! It was me, I—”
He cuts me off by holding up one hand. “I should go.”
“No, Dante, don’t—” I plead, but he’s already standing up and striding out of my door.
He leaves me sitting there in the middle of my bed, missing his heat and scent.