SAMANTHA
The morning sickness and exhaustion aside, I start to feel almost normal for the first time in…. Well.
Since Dante and I started all of this.
Maybe it’s for the best that he didn’t choose me.
He is kind of Papa’s only friend, and it’s not like we could have ever loved each other out loud.
Plus… what kind of father would Dante be? I honestly don’t know. I’ve never seen him around kids. He’s never mentioned wanting kids.
And I know what he does for a living. Not that I judge him. Papa’s got plenty of blood on his hands, and he’s the best father a girl could ask for. But when I think about telling him… the cold look in those ice blue eyes…
The way he’d told me I was a mistake.
I don’t want a man like that in my child’s life. Even if I can’t help wanting him in mine.
Doc still has Papa benched, and it’s driving him crazy. I can hear him pacing the hallway, barking into his phone. I slowly crack open my door, peering out.
Papa’s back is to me but his shoulders are stiff. Something feels wrong immediately.
I step out into the hallway. Papa’s still on the phone. “Volkov, I need you there now. The cops will show, and I’d rather give you the money than the fucking pigs for bribes.”
Shit. Volkov. The cleaner. Someone died tonight. I frown as my stomach drops. Was it one of our men?
I know most of Papa’s men pretty well, since I grew up with Papa as don. Grampa died when I was just a baby, so I never knew a time when my father wasn’t king.
“I don’t care what you do with it. He was a rat.”
I blink. A rat? We’ve never had a rat, not in all the time Papa’s been don. Who could it have been? It couldn’t be Marco, he’s too stupid. It couldn’t be Leo, he was one of my father’s favorites.
Ricardo? The thought flits across my mind before I push it down.
Ricardo’s on my security detail. He wouldn’t have the time. Besides, Papa wouldn’t let anyone watch me that he didn’t trust.
Papa hangs up and turns around. He startles when he sees me. “Shit, Sam, you scared the life out of me.”
“What’s going on?” I demand to know, crossing my arms over my chest.
He sighs. “How much did you hear?”
I huff. “Enough.”
“We had a rat. It’s taken care of.”
A horrible thought occurs to me and my mouth goes dry. “Where’s Dante?”
“Christ,” Papa curses. “It’s not him, Sam. He’s my best friend.”
My knees go weak and I brace myself against my doorjamb to keep them from buckling. I didn’t want to think that Dante could betray us, but with the way he’s been acting lately, it feels like I don’t know him at all. “Who was it?”
“Leo,” Papa says flatly, and my eyes widen. Leo’s been with Papa for a decade, maybe more. He’s always been loyal, even if he does like drugs and gambling too much.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“I know. But Dante took care of it.”
My stomach flips. Dante killed Leo tonight. It shouldn’t surprise me. Dante’s my father’s number one enforcer these days. I know what that entails.
My hand lands lightly on my stomach before I move it away. I want to ask if Dante’s okay, if he’s injured, and I open my mouth to do it when the front door opens.
Dante shuffles in, shoulders slumped. I let out a sigh of relief, but then he looks up at me. His eyes…
They’re hollow.
My heart flutters. My feet want to go to him. I want to trail my hands over his body, make sure he’s not hurt. But I just stand there, stock still.
“There you are,” Papa says warmly.
Dante doesn’t speak.
“Volkov’s on his way.”
Dante nods sharply, and starts up the stairs. I step back into the doorway of my room as if to hide.
“Thank you, Dante. For everything,” Papa says. Dante’s eyes are focused on mine as he responds.
“Don’t mention it. It’s my job.”
They’re so… empty. My chest feels caved in. Dante tears his eyes away from me. Slips past Papa and heads into his room. Papa sighs.
“That couldn’t have been easy. We went to high school with Leo.”
“Maybe you should go talk to him.”
Papa looks at Dante’s closed door. “I don’t think so. Not now.”
I bite my lip. I want to push, but I can’t. Papa will wonder why. “Are you okay?” I ask him softly, and Papa looks at me.
“I will be.”
I nod. “Well, I’m here. If you need me.”
He smiles. “Thank you, cara mia. Get some rest. You’ve been ill.”
Alarm sounds in the back of my head. Papa knows I’m still not feeling well. I’m not exactly hiding my pregnancy symptoms well. I’ll have to do better.
I just nod again and slip back into my room, lying down on the bed and staring up at the vaulted ceilings. I can’t stop thinking about Dante, seeing those blank blue eyes in my mind’s eye. I toss and turn for a couple hours before I get up.
I head downstairs first, making a sandwich. I bet Dante hasn’t eaten.
I’m not going to tell him I miss him. I’m just… checking in. Tonight couldn’t have been easy. Killing an old friend.
Just because he pushed me away doesn’t mean I can’t care about him.
Right?
I pad back upstairs and knock softly on his door.
“Come in.”
I step inside with the plate. He’s sitting on the bed, leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs. Dante looks up at me, surprise widening his eyes. “Samantha.”
“I thought you’d be hungry.” I place the plate down on the bed next to him.
He looks down at the plate. “I don’t know if I can eat.”
I bite my lip. “I heard what happened.” He doesn’t respond. “It had to be hard for you.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, and I put my hand behind me on the doorknob, planning to slip back into the hallway. I hesitate.
“It wasn’t.” Dante’s words are flat and sudden.
I blink. “What?”
He looks up at me, eyes still too empty. “It wasn’t hard.”
“Of course it was.”
He shakes his head. “Should have been. Wasn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because he knew about us,” Dante nearly whispers, looking straight ahead instead of at me.
I gasp, unable to stop myself. “What?”
He doesn’t meet my eyes. “He knew about us. Had a photo. Called you a piece of ass.” He chuckles shakily, running a hand through his hair.
I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.
“So no, it wasn’t hard on me. It was easy.
Because I’ll kill anyone who disrespects you, tesoro. Do anything to keep you safe.”
I let out a sound almost like a squeak. I can’t stop myself from crouching down in front of him, cupping his cheek with one hand. “Dante.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face into my hand, his breath ragged. I lean forward and kiss him, gently, slowly licking across his bottom lip.
He groans against my mouth, kissing me back fervently, as if this is just the opening he’s needed. He sweeps me up into his arms, deposits me on his lap.
I straddle him instinctively, my fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck as I kiss him again. His hips surge up beneath me and I can feel him growing hard.
He growls softly when I nip at his bottom lip. He grabs me by the throat, not hard, just enough to hold me away from him so that he can meet my eyes. “Don’t do this to me, tesoro,” he says brokenly.
“Just for tonight,” I whisper. “Let it be like… like it was.”
His eyes search my face. “It’ll never be enough,” he rasps.
Tears spring to the backs of my eyes and I don’t fight them. They fill my eyes but don’t quite fall. “I know.”
Dante looks at me a second longer before he kisses me again, flipping me over. He kisses me once more, roughly, before pulling away and tugging off my pajama bottoms impatiently. I’m not wearing anything beneath and his breath hitches in his chest.
He leans over, planting a kiss on my stomach, and my heart stops. It starts beating again when he kisses higher, between my breasts, before taking a nipple into his mouth over the fabric. I arch my back, pleasure rising in my lower abdomen.
Dante’s fingers test my wetness, his thumb sweeping over my clit too briefly.
I whine against his mouth as he kisses me again, fumbling with his slacks. He guides himself into me, moaning softly into my mouth. I swallow them down, not wanting Papa to hear.
I gasp in a breath when he sinks all the way home. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since he’s been inside me like this.
He breathes out through his nostrils, starting to move just his hips in a steady, fluid rhythm.
But Dante won’t look at me, burying his face against my neck as he thrusts almost desperately in and out of me. I’m holding my breath, my orgasm slowly building.
“You fucking wreck me, tesoro, you know that?”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding, falling over the edge and starting to tighten around him.
Dante curses in Italian like he does sometimes when he’s on the edge. Having spent all that time in Sicily taught him the language, and sometimes he slips.
He pants, fucking me through it before he spills deep inside me. I feel his breath hot against my neck, wrap my arms around him, slide my fingertips across his broad back.
I let myself have him, in this moment. Let myself pretend he’s mine.
That he ever was.
When he lifts his head and gives me this broken half-smile, my heart cracks wide open. I let myself love him, let my heart bloom with it, and it fucking hurts. Tears spill out of my eyes, trailing down into my ears.
Dante frowns, kissing them away before cupping my face. “Don’t cry, little one.”
I choke out a sob. “Don’t,” he says again, his voice cracking, his own eyes wet.
I open my mouth. I could tell him. I could spill everything right now and maybe, just maybe, we’d figure it out.
“I should go,” I say instead, and his eyes change, go empty again.
I hate myself.
He slowly pulls out of me as if it hurts him to do it, and I wiggle out from under him. I snatch my pajama bottoms off the floor and hurriedly put them on.
He collapses on the bed, face-down. Doesn’t look at me as I slip out of the door, peeking out first to make sure no one’s in the hallway. My chest hurts and I can barely breathe.
I make it to the bathroom before I heave, but nothing comes up. What was I thinking?
I can’t tell him.
Tomorrow I have to start implementing my plan.
And Dante’s not going to like it.