26. Dante
DANTE
I nurse a ginger ale, wishing it was scotch, as I watch Reese dip Samantha low on the dance floor. She’s giggling wildly, wrapping her arms around his neck, and I want to fucking throw up.
Elio walks up behind me. It’s not the first time he’s tried to talk to me, and this time I actually try to pay attention. “What happened to Moretti?”
I straighten up, squaring my shoulders. “Moretti?”
“The kid she was dancing with earlier. He’s Cecil’s boy. A good match for her.”
“You’re not really considering marrying her off.”
“Not exactly, but if I can push her in the right direction…” He trails off, shrugging. I want to hit him. “Ethan’s a good kid.”
“Is he?”
He was a better choice, on paper, that I’ll admit. Tall. Handsome. Rich. Around her age.
Not her father’s right hand.
My jaw tightens.
“Have you talked to your girl?”
I hesitate, and nod. “Last night.”
“How’d it go?”
“Not well.”
“I didn’t think so.” Elio looks at me shrewdly. “You’re still not acting like yourself, Dante.”
“I”m trying.” It’s not a lie. I really am. But I don’t even know if I’m the same person, anymore. The Dante before Samantha and the Dante after… they’re two very different guys.
I don’t know if I’m either of them, anymore. I’m some third thing, twisted and monstrous. Because I want to cut off all of Reese’s fingers for touching her waist.
“What about you?” I ask, trying desperately to change the subject.
Elio blinks at me, nursing a drink. “What do you mean?”
“Olivia,” I answer, and his mouth twists in a bitter smile.
“I don’t know if she’s done waiting for me or not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He groans and sighs, then runs a hand across his face. “She’s not answering my calls.”
I hum. “You’d better go after her. Before it’s too late.”
“You’re a one to talk.”
“At least I talked to my girl last night. Can you say the same?”
Elio’s mouth sets in a hard line. “Don’t fucking start, Dante.”
“I’m serious,” I say, looking right at him. “You’re Mr. Follow Your Heart until it’s about you, and you’re what? Worried you’re cheating on a ghost?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Always is.”
He goes quiet and so do I, neither of us wanting to reveal more. We watch Reese and Samantha dance, me with my teeth grinding so hard my jaw aches, Elio with a soft smile on his face.
“Always wondered if those two would find their way back to each other,” he muses, and my eyes snap to his.
“What?”
“They used to date in high school. A brief period when they were about sixteen.”
My blood runs cold. So all this time, Reese has been an old boyfriend?
He’s kissed her?
Touched her?
Red hot rage replaces the chill in my blood and my hands twitch, wanting to turn into fists.
“There had to be a reason it didn’t work out.”
“He wouldn’t be a bad choice for her. He’s not Italian, but I don’t care about that. I just want her happy, and look at her. She’s glowing.”
I glance back at Samantha, laughing, face flushed. Happy.
Elio’s right and it makes my head pound.
He trails off, mingling, and I stay put, trying to keep my hands from trembling as I ask for another ginger ale. “Ginger ale is popular tonight,” the bartender mutters. I raise an eyebrow but don’t respond. My mind’s on other things.
Reese spins Samantha on the dance floor. She touches her stomach, moves her hand away. I frown. Is she still not feeling well?
They head over to the couch and find a place to sit. Samantha leans against him. I have to stop watching her before I do find a bottle of scotch and crack it open.
I tear my eyes away. “You sure you don’t want a real drink?” the bartender asks.
My throat aches for the burn of alcohol, but I shake my head. I haven’t seen Ricardo all night, and even if he were here, he doesn’t watch her like I do.
Nobody can protect Samantha Capetti better than me, because no one’s ever going to watch her every move like I do.
No one knows that when she sighs, it means she’s tired.
When she starts to hiccup, she’s too drunk.
Or that when she gets extra affectionate she’s been smoking weed.
Right now, she just looks tired. Happy, but tired. All this dancing might be too much for her so soon after being sick.
I turn my eyes away again, and when I turn them back, she’s gone.
“Hello, Dante.”
I turn slightly to see a pretty woman, around my age, wearing a purple sequin dress that compliments every curve. She’s gorgeous, and it takes me a long moment to recognize her as she smiles up at me.
“Maria?” My voice goes incredulous and she laughs.
“Don’t tell me how well I clean up, I’ll be offended.”
“Wow,” I say, genuinely shocked. “You look… great.”
She grins. “Thanks. Elio invited me and I was too curious not to show up.”
“Is your husband here?”
“Ralph? Oh yeah, he’s around here somewhere. Smoking illegal Cuban cigars, if I know him.” She’s complaining, but her tone is soft.
I chuckle. “Well, he’ll find plenty around here. Elio’s got a penchant for them.”
“Oh, I know. Couldn’t keep Ralph away. This party is the talk of the community, you know. Ralph says he wants to know how the other half lives. I keep telling him it’s not so different than the rest of us.”
I turn, scanning the room for Samantha, but I can’t find her. I frown.
“Looking for Miss Samantha?”
My eyes shoot to hers, and I smile sheepishly. “Yeah. Have you seen her?”
“Saw her going upstairs.”
My throat tightens. “Was she with someone?”
Maria looks at me, something curious in her green eyes. “Does it matter?”
“Maria…”
“Seems like she’s trying to move on. Maybe you should let her.”
My heart cracks because she’s right.
I should.
I should let her go, let her explore whatever she wants with Ethan and Reese and whoever else. She’s twenty-five years old. She should be allowed to live her life.
“She wants to settle down.” The words come out of my mouth before I decide to say them.
“She’s young for that, but not too young. Maybe she’ll find someone worthy.”
“And you don’t think I’m…” I trail off.
“Didn’t say that. I think you’re a good man, Mr. Bianchi.”
“Dante.”
“Yes. Sorry. Dante. I think you’re a good man, but I also know how complicated things are. And maybe Miss Samantha deserves something uncomplicated.”
Uncomplicated.
Like Ethan.
Like Reese.
Even if it doesn’t happen tonight, it’s bound to happen. With one of them, or with someone else. She’ll meet someone. Settle down. Get married.
Have babies that have her smile…
My throat closes up into a thin pinhole, my eyes burning. I’m going to lose it if I don’t get the fuck out of here.
I hurry up the stairs, taking them two at the time, fighting the clog in the back of my throat.
“Come on, Sammy. We can go lie down together.”
My feet falter. I look up and Reese stands in front of Samantha, brushing tears from her face with his thumbs.
“Why’s she crying?” My voice booms over the classical music playlist that Elio is playing downstairs.
“Dante,” Samantha breathes.
Reese turns around, frowning. “None of your fucking business.”
I almost want to grin as he bucks up at me. I crack my knuckles. “Give me one fucking reason, pretty boy. Tell me why she’s crying.”
Reese squares his shoulders. “I’m not telling you a goddamn thing. She’s not yours to worry about—”
That’s all I need. Something snaps inside me and I throw my fist into his face. Something cracks underneath my knuckles and I don’t care. I draw back to do it again.
Samantha’s screams seem muffled, her hands clawing at me, trying to pull me off nothing more than a slight hindrance. I hit him again, and again, until he stops moving.
“Stop it, you’re going to kill him!” Samantha’s screech suddenly goes supersonic. I’ve already got my fist pulled back to hit him again. His face is a mess of blood.
Fuck. I slowly stand up and turn around. Samantha screams again, thin and scared, and flinches against the open bedroom door.
My hands drop to my sides, my shoulders slumping. She’s afraid of me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Samantha asks, not a scream now but a broken whimper as she couches next to Reese, glaring up at me with streaming brown eyes. “Get the medic! Now!”
I blink down at her for only a moment before turning around, nearly stumbling before I catch my footing. I rush down the stairs and find Ricardo frowning at the bottom of the stairs.
“I heard screaming, what—”
“Call Doc. Get him out here quick,” I rasp out. I clap a hand on his shoulder before moving past him, walking out the side door into the garage. I get in my car and stare out the windshield for a long time.
I enter the highway having no idea where I’m going. I just know I’m not welcome here.
Not anymore.