Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Elena
For the past two weeks, Dante had been by my side, pouring himself into helping me renovate the boutique.
He was such a dazzling, powerful man—running a massive mafia family and business empire—yet he'd spent his time and energy on my little shop.
He said he loved me. I figured this was proof.
The opening was just around the corner. I'd rushed to finish a few new dresses to sell and handed them to Dante to hang on the wall.
Dante's arms were long. He didn't need a stool. He reached up easily and hooked each dress onto the nails. When he finished, he came over and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. "Congratulations, Elena. Everything's ready."
The sun was setting. The golden glow of dusk washed over everything, turning Dante's hair the color of honey. I couldn't help but reach up and run my fingers through it. "You helped me so much. Thank you."
Dante suddenly said, "Wait here. I'll be right back."
Then he left. I had no idea what he was up to, so I just sat in the shop and waited. The armchair was incredibly comfortable—the kind that cradled your whole body the second you sat down. The massage mechanism inside kneaded gently at my back, lulling me toward sleep.
Before long, a figure appeared in the doorway.
I opened my eyes and looked over. Dante stood there in a sharp, formal suit, smiling at me.
The suit looked familiar. Too familiar. And then I saw it clearly—it was the one I'd designed for him.
"Lucia said the suit was finished. She picked it up and had it sent here." Dante walked closer, took my hand, and placed it against his chest. "Elena, I love this suit. But if you made it yourself, I'd love it even more."
He kissed my fingertips. The tingle shot through me, making my whole body shiver.
The suit fit him even better than I'd imagined. Dante had always been tall and handsome, but this suit brought out the best in him. There was even a distinctive pin on his chest. I stepped closer to look and realized it was the wedding ring I'd taken off—now hanging right over his heart.
My mouth fell open. Dante took my hand. "May I invite you to dinner, beautiful?"
"You—" I couldn't find the words. The way Dante looked at me was so tender it didn't seem real. My heart pounded. I couldn't believe any of this was happening.
His gaze was too soft. I was drowning in it.
"I'll go change."
In the end, I gave in.
I changed into a light blue cotton dress—loose around the waist, hem falling just below my knees. Perfect for a pregnant woman. Comfortable and easy.
Outside, the poinciana leaves rustled in the evening breeze. The streetlights had just flickered on, casting warm orange light down the road. Dante pulled up in a car—complete with a driver. We sat in the back, hands locked together.
It was strange. We'd done far more intimate things, but just holding his hand like this made my heart race like it might burst.
The restaurant was on the side of town that faced the ocean—a two-story white building with a terrace set with white-clothed tables and chairs. When we walked in, the place was empty. Dante had rented it out.
The sea breeze drifted in from the terrace, salty and damp. A candle flickered on the table, the flame swaying gently in the wind.
Dante sat across from me, cut his steak, then switched plates with me. "Take your time."
I gripped my knife and fork, looking at him expectantly. "Dante, are we... on a date?"
"Aren't we?"
Dante smiled—a rare, gentle expression that didn't fit a man in his position. He took care of me through the meal, poured me a non-alcoholic drink, and reminded me to protect the baby.
I ate slowly, carefully. Morning sickness made me cautious.
"I've never told anyone about my mother," Dante said. His hands folded together. His gaze drifted toward the ocean.
"Her name was Isabella. She was young when she married Salvador. He didn't love her. He married her to produce an heir, and Isabella didn't belong to any faction."
"After I was born, Isabella became worthless to him. Salvador locked her up in the manor. Wouldn't let her work. Wouldn't let her have friends. My mother loved to paint, but Salvador said the lady of Moretti Manor didn't need to paint. He forbade her from touching a brush."
I set down my knife and fork, listening intently. Dante's expression was full of sorrow. I could feel his pain, slipping into the story he was telling.
"When I was little, I'd see her hiding in her room, crying. She'd stare out the window for hours. All day sometimes." Dante paused, his brow furrowing. "Until one day, she jumped out of that window. No one knew."
The sea breeze seemed to stop. The candle flame stood still, reflected in Dante's eyes.
"She didn't leave a note. Death was her escape. She abandoned me. She abandoned Salvador." Dante's hands curled into fists. "It was all Salvador's fault. That's when I started hating him. He controlled Isabella. He controlled me. My whole life, everything I did was under his control."
"That's why I resisted you so much. You represented his control over me." Dante's gaze landed on me, but it wasn't cold like before. "It wasn't that I hated you. I hated Salvador."
"Dante..."
I couldn't help but say his name. I stood, walked over to him, and wrapped my arms around him. His head pressed against my stomach. He held me like a wounded child.
"Elena, I've always resisted marriage. I was terrified my wife would end up like my mother." He looked up at me. "But you changed that. You're kind. Capable. When you face problems, you fight back. You solve them. You gave me confidence."
He'd laid bare his deepest wound. And all I felt was heartache. My resistance to Dante melted away.
"Dante, you won't become Salvador," I said, stroking his face. "You're not the same person."
Dante stood and pulled me into his arms, kissing my cheek. "Thank you, Elena."
He lifted me onto the table and bent down to kiss me. I drowned in his tenderness, couldn't help but wrap my arms around his neck. Dante kissed me deeply. He sucked on my tongue until it went numb. He was breathing hard when he finally pulled back, staring into my eyes the whole time.
"Elena, I can't leave you. So if you decide to stay here, I'll stay with you."
His tone was serious. Certain. Like he'd already made up his mind to be with me.
But I knew better. He didn't belong in a tiny shop. His world was the blood-soaked underground of New York, the sprawling business empire that shaped economies—not me.
We left the restaurant and walked hand in hand along the beach, heading back toward the boutique. The sea breeze tangled my hair. Dante turned and blocked the wind for me.
"Elena, will you be with me?" he asked softly. "Not because Salvador forced you. Not because I made you stay. Because you choose it."
My heart pounded like the crashing waves. In that moment, this powerful, fragile man had laid himself completely bare before me. I couldn't lie to myself anymore. Couldn't resist him for one more second.
"I love you, Dante." I threw my arms around him, tears spilling down my cheeks. "Yes."
I don't remember how we got back to the shop. By the time I came to, Dante had stripped me bare. We were on the handwoven rug, fucking like animals.
Dante's body covered mine completely—heavy, relentless—driving into me with the kind of raw force that only came from almost losing the one thing that mattered.
My nails dug into the hard planes of his shoulders.
Every thrust forced a broken sound up my throat that I swallowed at the last second.
The walls of the shop were thin; I could hear the occasional car pass on the street outside, the distant bark of a dog.
One loud cry and someone might hear. I bit down hard on my lower lip, eyes squeezed shut as he buried himself to the hilt again and again.
"Fuck, Elena." His voice was wrecked, low and urgent against my ear.
He hooked one arm under my knee and pushed it higher, opening me wider so he could sink even deeper.
The new angle dragged over that swollen place inside me with every stroke.
Tears spilled from the corners of my eyes, sliding hot down my temples into my hair.
I shook my head frantically, whispering, "Dante, please, it's too much."
He slowed only enough to press his forehead to mine, still buried deep, still rocking into me in short, grinding thrusts that made my thighs tremble.
"Shh, baby. I know. I know it is." His free hand cupped my cheek, thumb wiping at the wetness there even as his hips kept moving.
"You feel so fucking good. I've got you.
Just breathe for me. Take it. You're doing so well. "
The praise only made the tears come faster.
I turned my face into his palm, muffling another broken whimper.
He was everywhere—his weight, his scent, the thick stretch of him filling me over and over until I felt split open and claimed.
When he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, my back arched off the rug and a soft, desperate "ah—" escaped before I could stop it.
Dante's hand slid from my face to cover my mouth, gentle but firm.
"Quiet, love. Don't want anyone hearing how pretty you sound when I'm inside you.
" His eyes were dark, almost black in the low light, and the look in them was pure possession mixed with something softer.
"I almost lost you. I'm not going slow. Not tonight. "
He shifted, rising onto his knees without withdrawing.
Strong hands gripped my hips and flipped me onto my stomach in one smooth motion.
I barely had time to push up onto my elbows before he was over me again, chest to my back, knees spreading my thighs wide.
He sank back into me from behind in one long, devastating thrust that forced my face into the rug.