Chapter 18
DANTE
I watched her face her sister, and a woman I didn’t know existed walked out of Cassia’s skin.
My grip on the doorframe tightened until the wood groaned.
Cristo.
She goes to the guest room.
I’m in my study reviewing port manifests when I track her footsteps overhead. Down the upstairs hall, past our bedroom, to the guest room she’s been hiding in the last few days.
The guest room. Like she’s a visitor in her own home.
Fuck that.
I give her an hour. Tell myself she needs space.
Sixty-three minutes later, I’m done with that lie.
The stairs are quiet beneath my feet. Down the upstairs hall. Past our bedroom. To that door.
I don’t knock.
She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. Not crying. Shoulders curled in, making herself small.
“What are you doing in here?”
She looks up. Her composure is shattered, and she’s not even trying to hide it.
“I thought.” She stops. Swallows. “I thought you’d prefer space. Now that she’s here.”
“Space from you?”
“From the situation.” Her voice is too careful. “The real bride showed up. I’m the substitute. It’s awkward. I understand if—“
“Stop.”
She goes still.
I cross the room. “Get up.”
“Dante.”
“Get up, Cassia.”
She rises. Her pulse flutters in her throat.
I cup her face. Her skin is cold. Her eyes search mine, wary, waiting for the blow.
“Nothing changes us.”
She stiffens. “But Elena.”
“Elena ran.” My thumb traces her cheekbone. “You walked into a monster’s house and stayed. Elena took money to destroy this family. You’ve spent every night trying to protect it.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.” Her voice wavers. “For two days.”
“I know.” My throat works. Cazzo. “That was fear. My fear. Not anything you did.”
“Fear of what?”
“This.” I lean my forehead against hers. “How much I need you. What happens when I stop pretending I don’t.”
She’s trembling now. Or maybe I am.
“I’m done pretending, Cassia. I’m done acting like this is just an arrangement.”
Her hands come up to grip my wrists. Holding on.
“Come to bed with me.” Not a command. A plea. “Let me show you what you are to me.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
I don’t let her walk.
My arms slide beneath her, one behind her back, one under her knees. She gasps as I lift her against my chest.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
She weighs nothing in my arms. Her head rests against my shoulder. She curls into me, clutching my shirt like I might disappear.
I shoulder open our bedroom door. Cross to the bed. Lower her onto the mattress.
I follow her down. Stretch out beside her and pull her into my arms, her back against my chest, my face buried in her hair.
We just breathe.
“She was paid,” she says at last. Quiet. “Two million dollars. And she didn’t even ask who was paying.”
“I know.”
“I’m not upset about the money.” Her voice catches. “I’m upset because I thought I was saving my family. Turns out I was just cleaning up someone else’s mess. Again.”
I tighten my arms around her. “You’re not cleaning up anything alone anymore.”
She laces our fingers together where my arm rests against her stomach.
“Cassia.”
She turns in my arms. Faces me.
“These past two days. I wasn’t pulling away because of you.” The words come out raw. Dragged. “I was terrified.”
“Of what?”
“What do I make you feel?”
“Like I can’t breathe without you.” I trace her jaw. My touch shakes. I can’t stop it. “That’s all. That’s everything.”
Her eyes shine.
“You walked into my study and offered yourself like you were worth nothing.” My forehead finds hers. “You’re worth everything.”
She doesn’t answer with words.
She kisses me.
This is different.
Every other time, there’s been urgency. Desperation. The frantic drive to consume before the moment slipped away. We’ve taken each other on my desk, against bookshelves, in dark hours when neither of us could sleep.
This isn’t that.
This is slow.
She explores my chest. I roll my sleeves to the elbow. Don’t even realize I’m doing it until the fabric bunches at my forearms.
She watches. Her mouth parts.
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Roll your sleeves. Right before.” Her voice is soft. “Seven. Now eight.”
The air leaves my lungs like she’s reached in and pulled it out.
She’s been counting. Tracking me. Reading my skin the way she reads ledgers. Finding patterns no one else bothers to look for.
She traces the ink on my forearm. Pauses at the scar near my wrist.
“You got this before the others.” Quiet. Certain. “The ink around it is lighter.”
I bring her palm to my face. Kiss it.
Cazzo. This woman.
I kiss her again. Slower this time. Memorizing her.
“I’m going to undress you now.” I pull back to watch her face. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
“Don’t stop.”
I work each button. Slow. Deliberate. Each inch of fabric I push aside reveals more of her, and I follow with my tongue.
“So fucking beautiful.” I press the words into her collarbone. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Tell me.”
“You make me forget I’m supposed to be dangerous.” I kiss her shoulder. The hollow where her pulse beats wild. “You make me crave things I swore I’d never crave again.”
“What things?”
I lift my head. Meet her eyes.
“You. Every day. For the rest of my life.”
She goes still. “Dante.”
“I’m not finished.” I trace her jaw with my thumb, tilting her face up. “I’m going to wake up with you. Fight with you about the books. Watch you count your way through every problem I throw at you.” The words stick. “See me. And don’t run.”
“I’m not running.” She pulls me down. “I’m right here.”
She kisses me. Desperate now. Yanking at my shirt until I help her strip it off.
“I’m taking my time with you tonight.”
“We have all night.”
“We have longer than that.” I kiss her throat. “We have everything.”
I trace lower. Find the small scar on her hip. Kiss it. She shivers.
“I didn’t know.” She gasps as I cup her breasts, dragging my thumb across one nipple. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like you actually see me.”
I go still.
Her eyes are wide. Vulnerable. The wound laid bare.
“Say that again.”
“My father looked through me at every dinner table for twenty-two years.” Her voice cracks. “You looked at me tonight like I was the only person in the room.”
My chest aches. I dip my head and take her nipple between my teeth, sucking until she arches, until she fists my hair.
“Every inch of you.” I switch to the other breast. Worship it the same way. “I’m going to learn every inch.”
Her hips roll against nothing, searching.
“More,” she whispers. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Touch me.”
I slide lower. Between her thighs.
Soaked. Hot. Swollen against my fingers.
“Fuck, Cassia.” I press inside and she clenches around me. “You’re dripping.”
“For you.” Her nails dig into my shoulders. “Only for you.”
“I know.” I curl deeper and her back arches. “This pussy is mine.”
“Yes.”
I work her while I trail kisses down her body. Her ribs. Her hip. The soft skin of her inner thigh.
“You’re shaking.”
“I know.” Her voice trembles. “I can’t stop.”
“Don’t try.” I settle between her legs. “Breathe for me.”
She inhales. Shaky but deep.
I replace my fingers with my tongue. One long stroke from her entrance to her clit.
Dio.
“You taste incredible.” I circle her clit. Slow. “I could do this for hours.”
“I’d die.”
“But what a way to go.”
She laughs. Startled. The tension in her body eases.
I eat her like I’m savoring her. Long pulls. Short flicks. Curved inside, finding the spot that makes her thighs shake.
“Dante.” She’s panting now. “I can’t.”
“Tell me.”
“I need you inside me.”
I crawl back up her body. She’s flushed. Panting.
“Look at me.”
Her gaze finds mine.
I settle between her legs. Notch myself at her entrance.
“Don’t look away. Let me see your face when I take you.”
I sink into her. Slow. Inch by inch until I’m buried and we’re both shaking.
“Fuck.” The word rips out of me.
She’s so tight. So warm. I have to hold still or this ends before it starts.
She shudders. But she doesn’t look away. Doesn’t hide.
Neither do I.
She touches my face. Traces my jaw.
“You’re trembling.”
I am. I hadn’t noticed.
Everything stops.
Not the pause of catching a moment. Something deeper. We’re suspended, holding each other, and I’m more exposed than I’ve ever been.
“It’s okay.” Her voice is soft. Certain. “I’ve got you.”
Cristo.
No one’s said that to me since Mama died.
Warmth floods my chest. Terrifying and sweet.
“Cassia.” Her name comes out broken.
She cradles the back of my head, anchoring me. “I’ve got you. Stay with me.”
I start to move.
Slow. Careful. Rolling my hips in a way that makes her gasp, makes her arch, makes her clutch my shoulders.
I groan against her throat. “God, you feel like everything.”
“Don’t stop.”
“Never.”
I set a rhythm. Deep and steady. Watching her face.
The tension builds. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper. She’s so wet I can hear every thrust. So tight I have to grit my teeth against the edge.
“Feel me.” I grind my hips against hers. “Feel what you do to me.”
She tangles a fist in my hair. “I feel you. I’ve always felt you.”
I kiss her. Deep and endless. My hips roll against hers, grinding against her clit with every stroke. She whimpers and I drink her in.
I reach between us. Find her clit with my thumb. Circle it while I thrust.
She tightens around me. I can feel it building, how she flutters, how her body pulls at mine.
“Dante.”
“Let go.” I hold her gaze. “With me. Now.”
She breaks.
Her back bows off the mattress, her body pulling me deeper with every pulse. My name spills from her like a prayer.
And I follow her over.
Bury myself to the hilt. Spill inside her with a noise that is surrender.
Because it is.
“Tesoro.” The word escapes against her throat. Involuntary. Mine.
We stay tangled together.
That’s new. Every other time, one of us created distance. Not tonight.
She’s draped across my chest, tracing patterns on my skin. My arm holds her close even though she’s not trying to leave.
“Someone in this house is a traitor,” she says after a while. Steady again. “Someone with access to two million dollars.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to find them.”
My arm tightens. “We’re going to find them. Together.”
She’s quiet. Then, softer: “I think I already know where to start looking.”
I go still. “Tell me.”
“Tomorrow.” She presses her palm over my heart. “I have to be certain first. But I’m close.”
I should press. Should demand answers.
Instead, I draw her closer. Kiss her forehead.
“Tomorrow,” I agree.
She settles against me. Her body softens into sleep.
Tomorrow, we hunt.
Mine.