29. Sara
Sara
“Well, bella.” Marco lifts my arm and encourages me to spin for him. “If I’m dead, it’s because your ass in those jeans sent me right to heaven.” Clutching his chest, he glances up at the sky as if seeing divine light.
I twirl in a circle while biting back a laugh.
Dante cautioned me about his brother’s “unmitigated flirting” before he invited him to the house to act as part of my personal guard, but even with the warning, I’m wholly unprepared to deal with Marco’s lighthearted flattery over the next several days.
On top of his devastatingly handsome features, Marco isn’t shy about enjoying himself, contrary to his brother’s tendency toward the fun police.
The suave, honey-tongued charm is pure testament to Marco’s undeniable charm, though I try not to let on because it’ll just encourage him. Gratuitous compliments aside, having Marco around after the attack is a breath of fresh air.
An attack that seemed coordinated for the sole purpose of capturing me, though we still don’t know who or why. Gregor and Luca pulled a barely alive man from the carnage and transported him upstairs to the interrogation room on the fifth floor just as red and blue lights flashed outside.
Dante worked on him for a full twenty-four hours and then the captive succumbed to his injuries a day later. While the “who” and “why” remains a mystery, it doesn’t change the fact that if I’m in danger, Jeremy could be as well.
When I express my concerns to Marco, Dante’s younger brother delivers my phone, and I talk to Jeremy for almost an hour.
Guilt gnaws at me whenever Jeremy asks questions about a nonexistent position at a nonexistent hospital, but the fabrication is worthwhile just to hear him rave about a new work project and share his silly jokes again.
The next morning, Marco assigns three of his own men to keep an eye on my apartment in Brooklyn just in case anyone from the Council tries to pay Jeremy a visit, and I sleep a little easier that night.
For all his teasing, Marco is as adept as his brother in a lot of ways.
Even while nursing a hangover. His word is law, and he commands his men in the same ruthless manner, leaving no room for dissent or argument.
I understand why Dante trusts in his brother’s abilities, despite his displeasure with all the partying and drinking.
When the police knocked on the door following the attack, my entire body tensed.
I was sure someone was headed to jail. Maybe even me, though all I did was hit a man with an umbrella, threaten another man’s future children, and hide.
To my surprise, the police barely glanced around before excusing themselves.
When Marco hiccups loudly, the detective glances between him and the liquor bottles we had lined up along the fireplace like trophies, closes his little notepad, and leaves.
I ask Dante what we’ll do when the police test for DNA, and he scoffs.
“That’s what we pay our informants on the force to deal with. ”
Okay…yikes.
When I ask Gregor the same question a little later, he simply shrugs. “It’s actually a good thing the cops are sniffing around. They won’t find anything, and with the NYPD watching the place, it buys us time to figure out a game plan. I’m sure the boss has something in mind.”
Gregor’s words spook me, though overall, I’m surprised by how easily I’m handling all of this. I guess my years working in the ER left me unflappable to a certain extent.
Luca is tasked with rewiring the motherboard, or maybe scrubbing a wired terminal?
Something along those lines. Meanwhile, Dante turns the townhome upside down in his search for the mole.
No guard or staff member is spared his interrogations, even if they have a bulletproof alibi from that night.
He might not say so aloud, but I can see just how shaken he is by the betrayal of one of his own.
And when he finally relents and puts me on the medical team, I know he’s desperate.
He’s more solicitous toward me too. One night in bed, he brushes my hair back from my face, his gaze soft.
“You’ll be safe there. Marco or one of his men will be stationed just outside whenever you’re working.
Talk to the other nurses and anyone who comes in for treatment. See what you can figure out.”
“You mean it?”
After the attack, Dante put me in a spare bedroom on the fourth floor. The space is opposite his, and compared to my grim little cell, could pass as the Taj Mahal.
One afternoon, he even took me over to Fifth Avenue to shop.
While Chanel and Bergdorf’s are a little out of my league, I was able to find some practical clothes at Neiman Marcus.
I also picked up a few things to decorate my new room with, some Egyptian cotton bedsheets, and an overstuffed chair that Marco helped me position by the window so I can admire the tree-lined view of the street below.
It almost feels like home
At my question, Dante nods and takes my hand.
“You have a way with people. If anyone has a chance of finding this fucker, it’s you.
Be careful though, Sara. If the mole is one of the Council’s rodents, there’s no telling the lengths they’ll go to just to carry out orders.
So far, only you, me, Luca, and Marco know this information.
Keep your inquiries discreet. You can do this. ”
His belief in my ability to succeed infuses me with a warm glow.
When I start at the clinic, the other nurses take to me right away.
I also build up an easy rapport with most of the guards, though I haven’t had a chance to speak with them at length yet.
I keep Angela out of it. She’s already done so much to help me that I can’t bring myself to drag her into my investigation.
Luckily, I gather most of my intel through casual conversation, so it’s simple enough to hide my true purpose.
With Dante busy and his forces cut nearly in half after the ambush, Marco brings some of his own people in to help strengthen defenses in case of another infiltration.
I get to know some of them, too, but I’m mainly focused on Dante’s soldiers and his personal guard detail.
I love being useful to Dante, but more than anything, it’s good to dive back into what I know best, which is nursing.
Following the attempted abduction, Dante started providing me with opportunities every day to check-in with Jeremy, which does a lot to alleviate my stress.
The hunt for the Ghost takes a reluctant back seat after the events of the other night. Still, Dante and Luca carve out pockets of time to try and decipher the letter we found in my purse from the evening of the Conti benefit. Between that and my work, I hardly see him at all.
When I’m not occupied at the clinic, I spend the late afternoons in the Red Room, Dante’s common space on the first floor, where everything from the luxurious carpets to the brocade wallpaper are bedecked in sumptuous hues of burgundy, crimson, and cherry.
I find I’m becoming quite comfortable with the color.
Those afternoons become one of my favorite times of day. Marco, Angela, and I sit around the velvet damask chairs, chatting about everything and nothing. Gregor’s there, too, but he’s on duty, still very much on Dante’s shit list after the attack.
One night, Marco, who may very well be a professional drinker, invites us all to cocktails, but I call it quits after my first rum and Coke.
Feeling bold, I wander over to Gregor while the other two raid Dante’s liquor cabinet and pat his shoulder.
“You should try relaxing sometimes.” I point to Marco across the room, who’s waving two bottles of bourbon in the air to keep them from Angela’s reach.
“You see that guy? He’s the picture of laid-back. ”
Gregor glances at me before poking his tongue in his cheek.
“You think so?” His eyes slip back to Marco, and I swear he flinches.
“Because I’ve heard stories. I mean, there’s a reason the boss trusts him with you, and it doesn’t have anything to do with them being brothers.
” I almost dismiss his words until I peer at Marco and recognize a familiar darkness in his eyes as he studies Angela, who’s pouring amber liquid into two crystal highballs.
When Marco notices my gaze, the darkness disappears beneath his signature lazy grin. Not before I spot a glimpse of something else, though…a soul hardened by tragedy and cruelty. Strangely enough, I feel safer for it.
When I’m able to catch Dante in passing one night, I confess how helpless I felt during the break-in, and he agrees to lessons in self-defense and basic gun safety.
In fact, he seemed pissed and even a little guilty that he didn’t think of it sooner.
At some point, our captor-prisoner dynamic shifted, though neither of us has mentioned the change aloud.
Unfortunately, between the Ghost and the mole, his time is precious, so I don’t know who to expect when I walk into the gym a few days later.
Since I’m the first to arrive, I start stretching, casting a wary eye toward my old cell block before I tear my gaze away.
I’m not the same girl I was when I came here, which I’m eager to prove.
My new workout set, a pair of fitted yoga pants that sits high on my waist and a cropped tank that fits more like a sports bra, lifts my mood, though. I’ve never owned anything this high-quality before, and it’s nice being able to hop around without worrying about one of the girls going skydiving.
The shuffle of approaching feet draws my attention, and when I glance up, my lips hitch into a wide smile. “You’re here.”
Dante’s shirtless and wearing black athletic shorts that showcase his toned thighs.
Once I drag my eyes away from the corded muscles, I note the dark circles under his eyes.
The strain from late nights deepens the lines on his face, yet he still manages a cocky retort. “Don’t look so happy to see me.”
I roll my eyes, gathering my hair up in a ponytail so the honey blond strands stay out of my face. Dante tracks the movement like a predator stalking prey. Even now, with the world falling down around our ears, he regards me like he could devour me whole.
My lower belly tightens. Raising a brow, I slide my tongue over my bottom lip and enjoy the way his body tenses in response.
“Focus.” The warning is as much for me as it is for him.
“That’s what I’m doing.” He rakes his eyes up and down my body with excruciating leisure.
“Pig! You know that’s not what I meant.” I toss one of the towels they keep by the edge of the ring at him, and he catches it with ease, flashing me a devious smile. It reminds me so much of Marco’s easy grin that I snort.
“You’re a privilege to look at, tesoro.” His seductive purr is laced with something more serious. I chuckle, determined to keep the mood light, as he joins me in the ring and leads us through a series of stretches.
As we get into it, he’s all business, though his touch lingers on my thighs and hips.
Given recent events, days have passed since we’ve been intimate, and each graze of his skin against mine heightens my growing arousal. The touches conjure delicious memories of all the ways we’ve fucked before, and for the sake of the lessons, I pray he doesn’t notice the direction of my thoughts.
Once we finish warming up, he helps me to my feet, and we practice a simple jab, hook, step that seems painfully repetitive.
I thrust my fist forward, and he easily captures my wrist. “Always keep your guard up, and when you throw your hook, make sure you pivot this back foot. Good.”
With the light sheen of sweat that starts to coat his bare upper half, it’s hard to concentrate on the drills. When I falter, Dante moves behind me, his body lining up with mine while he grips my wrists from behind.
Perfect.
“Step forward, jab, hook.” He urges me to follow his commands, his presence a wall of flames along my spine and his breath fanning across the shell of my ear. We flow through the sets until sweat beads on my skin and Dante’s every touch shockwaves straight to my center.
Everything feels surprisingly intense. Not only due to my raging hormones, but because for the first time in ages, Dante handles me with the old gentleness instead of destructiveness.
But as much as I’d like to linger in this miracle, I retreat.
I want to take this seriously and focusing while in his arms is futile. “Let’s run through it again.”
After a brief hesitation, Dante nods. He raises his palms, presenting them as targets.
He can’t treat me like porcelain. Not here.
I’ll never get any stronger that way, and I refuse to be a burden again.
My goal is to prevent anyone from using me as leverage against Dante or Jeremy, and neither Gregor nor Marco can babysit me twenty-four seven.
I’ll have to be my own line of defense, but that only works if I learn how to protect myself.
I lunge, jab, and hook. The motions are almost second nature now, and I throw in an extra jab for good measure. Dante deflects my next punch and hooks his foot around my ankle. He shifts his weight, the room spinning as he flips me onto the mat.
“What are you thinking about, bella?”
He settles over me, and I groan, rocking against him, hungrily, my body all too eager for his brand of pleasure. “Why are you bothering to teach me any of this?” My arms go around his neck so that I can toy with the hair curling at the nape of his neck. “I thought you only wanted me for one thing.”
Dante’s expression softens as he bends forward and kisses me, tracing his tongue along the seam of my lips. “I want to keep you safe. And I want you to know how to keep yourself safe.”
My stomach flutters. While nowhere near a declaration of love, his words make me wonder what a real life with Dante might look like. How would I fit into this world? Just wanting it isn’t enough.
And how can I protect my heart when he says things like that?
As I pull him down for another kiss and his tongue teases mine in an erotic dance, I can’t help but wonder where we’d be if I’d known about his mafia ties since the beginning.
The dreamer in me believes we could have avoided so much pain. My more logical side insists I wasn’t ready for this brutal reality.
Ultimately, my musings about the past are just that…musings.
Only the present matters now. And though I feel like we’re headed to a better place, I still can’t predict if our relationship will survive.