12. Dante
DANTE
I wake slowly, my head pounding before I even open my eyes. I can feel the sunlight on my face, and I curse this room for not having blackout curtains like the ones in my bedroom at home.
Fucking tequila.
This is all Elio’s fault.
I open my eyes and blink them a few times, trying to get my thoughts together.
I don’t remember how I got home, but bits and pieces are coming back to me. The leggy blonde that Elio went home with. Being in a car. Samantha.
I sit straight up and groan, my head aching. There’s a reason I don’t drink other than socially. I tend to run my mouth when I’m drunk, and I can’t remember what I said to Samantha. I remember her in my arms, cuddled up against my chest, and I swallow hard.
Fuck.
What did I say?
My heart pounds and I get up, walking to the bathroom and drinking water from the faucet like a dog, dehydrated.
I’m still in the rumpled clothes I wore last night and I feel gross, so I undress and take a quick shower, trying not to think too much. Scenes from last night are still coming back to me in waves.
“I’m fucking smitten by you, tesoro.”
I groan out loud as I get out of the shower and dress in a pair of sweats, not bothering with a shirt. I don’t plan on leaving my room, since Elio will most likely be asleep all day or with that blonde.
A knock sounds on my door and I frown. Elio must be home. Maybe he wants to tell me about the blonde.
Please God, don’t let it be work. I feel half-dead.
“Come in,” I call, slicking my damp hair back from my face. The door opens and Samantha walks in with a tray of food. I freeze, my shoulders stiffening.
“Thought you might be hungry,” she murmurs. “It’s nearly noon, you know.”
“You didn’t have to bring me that,” I mumble, looking away.
“You need something on your stomach to soak up all the tequila.”
I almost gag. “Please don’t say that word.”
She laughs. “Alright, mister. Sit down and eat.”
I slowly sit down on the edge of the bed and she places the tray over my lap. It’s simple, a sandwich piled high with meat, cheese, and tomatoes and a handful of potato chips. “Did you make this yourself?”
She nods, grinning. “I can’t boil water but I can make a sandwich.”
I snort, looking up at her with a smile. “Thank you.”
She just stands there, tilting her head slightly as if waiting. I pick up the sandwich and take a bite, chewing before answering. “It’s good.”
She grins wider. “Good.” Her brown eyes are bright, her smile full of sunshine.
“You’re in a good mood.”
“I am.” She plops down next to me. I put down the sandwich, glancing over at her.
“Listen, Samantha. Last night…”
She holds up a hand. “Don’t say it. Don’t say it was a mistake.”
“I wasn’t myself, little one. I shouldn’t have—”
“Stop!” she nearly shouts, and I shut my mouth. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t say anything wrong.”
“I… I didn’t?”
“No.” She leans her head against my shoulder. “Maybe I’m smitten by you, too.”
My heart swells, but my stomach is still in knots. I crack open the can of soda on the tray and take a sip. I shift around to place my back against the headboard and she sits crosslegged across from me.
“And maybe someday soon, we could go public,” she continues.
I choke on the soda, nearly spurting it out of my nose. I cough and Samantha pats me on the back, frowning. “You okay?”
I cough again and shake my head. “We can’t ever go public, Samantha.”
She frowns. “Why not?”
I stare at her. “There’s a million reasons, little one.”
Samantha huffs out a breath. “I know, but…” She trails off. She knows as well as I do that this can never work. That it can’t go anywhere. My heart drops into my stomach just thinking about it.
“Have you ever heard the name Roberto?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Roberto?”
I nod. “He was one of your father’s men, a few years back.”
“Was?”
“Yeah,” I say gravely, and she leans toward me, interested.
“What about him?”
“I only met him once,” I start, remembering with a shudder that trails all over my body. “It was your twenty-third birthday, and you went out with your hoodlum friends.”
She snorts but doesn’t protest.
“Roberto kept staring at you, and when you left, he made some kind of comment about your thighs in the dress you were wearing.”
Samantha’s mouth pops open. “In front of Papa?”
I nod solemnly. “He learned how to whisper in a sawmill, I guess. I was across the room and didn’t hear, but Elio did.”
Samantha’s rapt, looking at me with amber-brown eyes. “Don’t tell me…”
“He didn’t kill him.”
She sighs in relief.
“Elio lunged at him, punched him in the throat, and while Roberto was sputtering, Elio ordered me to hold him down.”
Samantha looks green around the gills. “Dante–”
My shoulders stiffen against the headboard as I continue. “I did as he said, of course, and Elio left the room, came back with a sledgehammer. Shattered both Roberto’s femurs while he screamed and fought.”
Samantha swallows visibly, pale. “Jesus. Maybe we shouldn’t go public.”
“Exactly my point. Your father isn’t someone to push, Samantha. Even though you seem to revel in it.”
She chuckles but then looks at me curiously. “Do you think I’m doing this thing with you because I’m rebelling against my father?”
My eyes shoot to hers. “Aren’t you?”
She huffs out a breath and smacks my shoulder with the flat of her hand. It bounces off me uselessly. “Of course not. I’m doing this because I want to, Dante.”
I don’t respond, but my heart flips in my chest. My hand reaches out to cup her cheek before I can stop myself. “C’mere,” I mumble, and Samantha smiles softly, climbing into my lap, her arms going around my neck as she straddles me.
I trail my hands up her back, nuzzling against her neck.
I should stop. This is too much, being this close to her, this… intimate. I’ve been inside her and it didn’t feel this close. Maybe I’m still a little drunk. Curse Elio and his penchant for tequila.
Samantha sighs happily, putting her head on my shoulder, and I’m content to just hold her for a few moments, running my hands up and down her back. “Feels good,” she murmurs against my shoulder.
I hum, kissing the top of her head. It does. It’s more meaningful than having her under me ever has been. It almost hurts, but in the best way. I can’t let her go, even though I know I should.
Even though I know I’m lighting a match near an open vat of gasoline.
A knock sounds on my door and Samantha gasps, springing apart from me.
She scrambles off my lap and my heart jumps into my throat. I place a finger across my lips to tell her to be quiet.
“Dante? You dead?”
“Not yet,” I call, trying to keep my voice a calm, even drawl.
“Are you decent?”
“Get under the bed,” I whisper-hiss at Samantha, and she stares at me blankly for a split second before she gets down on the floor and sneaks under the bed.
“Never,” I call back, and then Elio opens the door. Samantha hadn’t locked it. That was a mistake. Not as big of a mistake as being with me in the first place, but still.
Elio looks pale but otherwise none the worse for wear. He walks closer and my heart stops. But Samantha doesn’t make a noise, quiet as a mouse. “Breakfast in bed? Maria must like you.”
“She’s a gem,” I say easily, keeping my eyes on his. “What’s up?”
“Big shipment coming in tonight.”
“I know. I’ll be there.”
“I was thinking of sending Ricardo.”
“Why? Because I’m hungover?” I ask. My voice still sounds strained to my ears, but if Elio’s suspicious, it doesn’t show on his face.
He chuckles. “Yeah. Kinda feel bad for making you take so many shots.”
“You should feel bad for ditching me for that blonde.”
“You can’t make me feel bad about that,” he says with a grin. “You saw her.”
I hum. “How’d it go?”
My heart pounds as he smiles and shifts on the bed. I picture Samantha down there on the floor, covering her mouth with her hand.
Fuck.
“You know I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Are you going to see her again?”
I hate this, having to pretend everything’s fine when everything in my head is screaming alarms at me.
Elio grins wider. “Tonight.”
He’s planning on leaving me here alone with Samantha. And the more this goes on, I’m realizing that I can’t do this much longer.
“Let me oversee the shipment. Ricardo can stay here with Samantha.”
Elio raises an eyebrow. “You sure you’re up for it? You’ve never been able to handle your liquor.”
I snort. “Yeah, but it’ll do me some good instead of just laying around like a slug.”
He nods slowly. “I mean, alright. Where is Samantha, anyway?”
My throat tightens. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen her this morning.”
“She was being… weird this morning,” he muses.
I blink. “Weird how?”
“Asking me a lot of questions. I think she’s met someone.”
I let out a harsh breath. “Met someone?”
“Like a boyfriend.”
The alarm bells are clanging so hard in my head I can barely hear my own thoughts. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” He shudders. “I can’t deny I hate the idea of it, my little girl growing up, but I guess it’s inevitable. One day I’ll have to give her away.” His tone goes melancholy.
“You’re probably a while off from that.”
He nods, still looking introspective. “Shipment comes in at midnight, like usual. The warehouse down on Fifth and First.”
“I’ll be there.”
He throws me a sloppy salute, which I return, and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. I let out a long sigh of relief.
Samantha slowly wiggles out from underneath the bed, standing up and staring at me with the widest brown eyes I’ve ever seen on her. “That was close,” she breathes.
Never again.
“You can’t come to my room like this,” I say, my tone colder than intended.
She frowns. “I was being nice. Bringing you breakfast.”
“And I’m grateful, but…” I groan, running a hand through my hair. “That was too fucking close.”
She bites her lip. “Okay. I won’t come to your room anymore unless he’s not here.”
I don’t respond, staring out into space and trying not to think about Roberto’s screams when Elio came down with the sledgehammer. “It should be safe to leave,” I grunt, still not looking at her.
“Dante–”
“Not now, Samantha.”
She sighs but slowly nods, creeping to the door and peeking out before leaving. When the door shuts I feel like I can finally breathe again. But the alarms in my head don’t stop ringing.
I have to stop this.