Chapter 28
Harlow
I wake up sore, a deep, delicious ache nestled between my thighs, a lingering reminder of last night.
Dante.
I shift against the sheets, muscles stretching in protest. My fingers brush over the empty space beside me, cool and untouched. He’s already gone. A pang presses against my chest, unexpected and unwelcome, but I shove it down.
It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.
The scent of fresh coffee reaches me before I even open my eyes fully. I turn my head toward the nightstand, where a silver tray sits, arranged with a cappuccino, a plate of fruit, and a fresh bouquet of calla lilies. A note rests beside it.
I reach for it, unfolding the heavy paper, my eyes skimming over the words, his handwriting bold and sharp.
You should rest. You’ll need it. ;)
A single, arrogant wink is drawn at the end. I shake my head, but my lips curve despite myself. Of course, he would say that. The man is relentless, insatiable, a walking temptation in a three-piece suit, or nothing at all.
I savour the moment, pulling the tray onto my lap, taking a slow sip of the rich coffee. The warmth spreads through me as I grab the remote and press a button.
The TV rises from the floor, sliding smoothly into place at the foot of the bed. I flick through Netflix, eventually settling on a crime thriller as I pick at my breakfast. But even as the show plays, my gaze drifts back to the flowers. I don’t read too much into the gesture. This was only sex, no feelings involved. That’s what I told him. That’s what I keep telling myself. But as the thought forms, I know it’s a lie. As much as I try not to be, I’m already in too deep.
With a quiet exhale, I finish my coffee. I refuse to waste the day in bed. Stepping into the shower, I let the scalding water cascade over me, exactly what I need. I stand beneath the spray longer than I should, my fingers absently tracing over my skin, still sensitive from last night.
By the time I step out, the foggy mirror reflects flushed skin and a lingering, wicked smile I don’t bother wiping away.
I throw on a black sports bra, matching leggings, and sneakers. My hair is pulled into a high ponytail, and after a final glance in the mirror, I head downstairs.
The house is silent. Mattia is still asleep, which isn’t surprising. The kid sleeps like the dead until noon unless dragged out of bed. The staff moves quietly through the halls, and I pass a few of Dante’s men stationed at their usual posts.
I make my way toward the gym, expecting it to be empty, as it usually is.
I’m wrong.
The moment I step inside, the rhythmic sound of flesh hitting pads fills the air, followed by low, sharp commands in Italian. Dante is sparring with Leonardo.
He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of black gym shorts, his body slick with sweat, muscles coiled tight and lethal as he moves.
My pulse skips.
Jesus.
I stop just inside the doorway, watching him, my gaze trailing over the ridges of his abs, the sharp cut of his v-line, the ripple of strength with every strike he lands. He moves like a man who owns the room, the city, the fucking world.
A dark chuckle pulls me from my thoughts.
“Enjoying the view?”
I blink, snapping my gaze away from Dante just in time to see Mario smirking down at me, arms crossed.
“Hard not to.”
I quip, arching a brow.
Mario chuckles, but before he can reply, Leonardo grunts, hitting the mat with a heavy thud. “Merda!”
Leo growls, rolling onto his back, rubbing his jaw.
“That wasn’t fair, zio.”
Dante looms over him, unapologetic, completely in control. He grabs a towel, wiping the sweat from his chest.
“You allowed yourself to be distracted. That responsibility falls on you.”
“By what?”
Leo snaps.
Dante’s gaze flicks to me, knowing.
“By my wife.”
Leonardo exhales sharply, pushing himself up.
“Not fair, zio.”
he grumbles, shaking his head.
Dante barely acknowledges him. Instead, his full attention is now on me. And I feel it everywhere.
Mario nudges Leo as they step away, throwing a smirk over his shoulder.
“Try not to let her knock you on your ass, boss.”
Dante doesn’t look away from me.
“She’s welcome to try.”
I step forward, lifting my chin.
“You know very well that I can take you.”
Dante’s smirk is slow, edged with danger.
“Then step into the ring, leonessa. Prove it.”
So I do.
He lets me have the first few strikes, allowing a sharp jab to his ribs before he finally moves.
Fast.
His hands shoot out, aiming for my wrists, but I twist at the last second, slipping free and landing a solid kick to his side. He barely grunts, his expression sharpening with something close to amusement, maybe even interest.
I pivot, aiming another strike, but this time he’s ready. He blocks, deflecting with fluid rigour, before retaliating, forcing me to duck beneath a sweeping hook. I recover quickly, striking out again, and we fall into a rhythm.
For a moment, I think I might hold my ground. But then, in a flash, he shifts. A feint, so quick I don’t catch it in time. His hands clamp around my wrists, yanking me forward. I stumble, losing my balance, and before I can blink, he has me pinned against the mat, my arms trapped above my head, his body caging me in.
His breath is steady, his weight pressing just enough to keep me still, and there’s something unreadable in his gaze as he looks down at me. A flicker of surprise, maybe even pride.
“I didn’t expect you to be this good at it.”
he admits, voice low, a touch impressed.
I smirk.
“It’ll be your end to underestimate me, husband.”
My breath quickens, pulse hammering at the proximity. Dante’s gaze flicks to my lips, then back up, a smouldering heat simmering in his eyes. His voice is low, rough with satisfaction.
“I have you precisely where I intend.”
“Arrogant as ever.”
I murmur, shifting beneath him, acutely aware of every inch of his body against mine.
He grins.
“Hardly. Merely a man who recognizes what belongs to him.”
Then he’s kissing me. It’s deep, demanding, his tongue stroking mine, claiming, possessing. His hands leave my wrists, trailing down my arms, over my waist, gripping my hips.
“This exquisite ass,”
he growls, fingers digging in.
“You wear these leggings solely to torment me, don’t you?”
I barely have time to smirk before he leans in, biting the side of my neck, soothing the sting with his tongue.
“You want another fight, leonessa?”
His hands slip beneath my sports bra, pushing it up, exposing me. His thumbs brush over my nipples, teasing, before his mouth replaces them, sucking, circling. A needy moan slips from my lips as heat pools low in my stomach, throbbing between my thighs.
Dante doesn’t wait. He rips my leggings down, his palm sliding over my bare pussy, groaning at what he finds.
“Already drenched for me,”
he murmurs, his voice rich with intent.
“You know how much I savour finding you like this.”
His fingers press inside me, stretching, filling. My nails dig into his shoulders. “Dante…”
His smirk is unrepentant allure.
“Oh, we’re just getting started, wife.”
I push aside his shorts and boxers in one motion, my fingers wrapping around the thick length of him. Hard. Hot. Heavy. His cock twitches in my grip as his head drops against my shoulder, his breath ragged.
“Fuck.”
he groans, his lips dragging over my throat, nipping at the sensitive skin as he rocks his hips, pushing deeper into my hand.
“I missed this.”
He murmurs, voice thick with desire.
I smirk, tilting my head.
“You’ve been inside me all night, husband.”
His low chuckle vibrates against me.
“And yet, it’s been far too many hours.”
Dante growls, his patience snapping. He grabs my hips, hoists me up, and in a single, fluid thrust, he's inside me. I gasp, my head falling back against the mat. The stretch is perfect. Thick. Deep. Devastating. A pulse of pleasure coils in my stomach, making my nails dig into his back. His hands tighten on my waist, keeping me still as he exhales through his nose, his jaw clenched tight.
“Christ, Harlow…”
His voice is raw.
His eyes lock onto mine, hunger and possession etched into his gaze. Then he moves. Long, powerful strokes that steal my breath, each thrust harder than the last.
“You feel so good, leonessa.”
His grip on my hips is bruising as he fucks me into the mat.
“Always so fucking tight for me.”
I moan, wrapping my legs around his waist, pressing my heels into his ass to pull him in deeper. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the gym, mixing with our ragged breaths.
Before I can process, he flips us over, planting himself against the mat with me on top, straddling his hips. “Ride me.”
His voice is pure need.
His hands trail up my torso, gripping my breasts, kneading, teasing, his thumbs brushing over my nipples.
“Fuck, you look perfect like this.”
He mutters, watching me through heavy-lidded, ravenous eyes.
Every movement has his abs flexing, his hands tightening, his teeth bared like a man on the edge. And when my release slams into me, it's violent. Pleasure rips through me, my walls squeezing him tight.
Dante grits out a curse, his grip locking onto my nape. He yanks me down, crushing his mouth against mine as he follows me over the edge, spilling inside me, groaning into my lips, reclaiming me with every shuddering breath.
The gym smells like us.
I drag in a breath, pressing my palms against his chest and pushing up. Slowly, I lift myself off him, a shudder rolling through me as he finally slips free, leaving me empty. His cum drips from between my legs, warm and slick, and Dante watches with a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes, like it’s the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever seen.
“I love this,”
he murmurs, voice thick with possession. His fingers trace my inner thigh, spreading the mess further, his smirk dangerous.
“Watching my cum spill out of you, knowing you’re full of me.”
Heat flares up my spine, but I roll my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
“As pompous as ever.”
Dante only chuckles, pulling me closer until I’m fully in his lap, his arms wrapping around me. We’re both still slick with sweat, but he doesn’t seem to care. He tucks a damp strand of hair behind my ear, his touch almost gentle despite the rawness of the moment.
“That was the best workout.”
He muses, his smirk deepening.
I arch a brow, lips twitching.
“If that’s what you call it.”
Dante hums, fingers still lazily tracing along my spine. But eventually, I push off him, standing on unsteady legs. He follows, rising to his feet, his hands immediately reaching for me. Before I can do anything, he’s helping me dress, pulling my leggings up, smoothing my bra back into place.
I exhale, running a hand through my tangled hair.
“I need a shower.”
Dante’s gaze sweeps over me.
“Washing me off you sounds like a terrible idea.”
I huff a laugh, shaking my head.
“You’re impossible.”
His smirk is pure arrogance as he steps away, reaching for his shorts. I watch as he pulls them on, muscles flexing with every movement.
Then his phone buzzes. Dante exhales sharply, pulling it from his pocket. The shift is immediate. When he answers, his voice is authoritative. “Talk.”
He pauses. His jaw tightening.
“I don’t give a fuck about excuses,”
he says, tone lethal.
“Handle it. If I have to clean up your mess, it won’t be pretty.”
Another pause follows, but then his expression alters.
“I’ll be there soon.”
He ends the call without another word, slipping his phone back into his pocket before turning to me. The heat from before lingers in his eyes, but beneath it is something sharper.
I study him, brows knitting. “Trouble?”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with this.”
He replies smoothly, offering nothing more.
My eyes narrow.
“That doesn’t mean you have to keep me in the dark.”
His gaze sharpens, locking onto mine with unwavering intensity.
“I will tell you what you need to know, all you have to do is ask.”
He steps closer, fingers tipping my chin up.
“But ensuring your safety? That is my responsibility. You don’t have to bear the weight of every burden, wife.”
I exhale, unimpressed.
“So this has nothing to do with the stalker?”
His expression turns to stone.
“No. But he is being hunted. And he will be found.
I chew the inside of my cheek.
“How did he even get so close?”
Dante’s jaw clenches.
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
He pauses, watching me.
“Tell me exactly how this started.”
I exhale, leaning against the weight rack.
“There isn’t much I can tell you that you don’t already know. It began roughly a year before I moved to Italy, just notes at first. Subtle. Nothing that seemed significant. I hardly spared them a second thought.”
Dante’s stare is unforgiving.
“And then?”
“They started showing up in places they shouldn’t. My purse. My car. Even my bedroom. But I assumed it was Troy.”
His entire body stiffens.
“Who the fuck is Troy?”
I hesitate.
“He’s dead.”
Dante’s eyes flash.
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”
I inhale deeply.
“Troy was my mother’s boyfriend.”
I press my lips together, forcing down the memories.
“Let’s just say he had a habit of… tormenting me.”
Dante’s fists clench hard enough to crack bone. A muscle ticks in his jaw.
“If that bastard were still breathing, I’d carve the life from his body myself. He’d beg for death long before I granted him the mercy.”
I shrug, watching his barely contained rage.
“I killed him.”
Dante’s eyes flick to mine, momentarily surprised. But the shock is fleeting, quickly overtaken by… pride.
“That’s my woman.”
His voice is rich with satisfaction. Then, the warmth vanishing as quickly as it came.
“Tell me how he died.”
I shift, looking away.
“He was drunk. He came into my room. Tried to…”
I swallow hard.
“But he was sloppy. I grabbed the vase from my nightstand and smashed it against the back of his head. It shattered on impact, one of the shards lodged deep in his throat.”
Dante exhales slowly, his stare glacial.
“I should have been the one to kill him.”
I let out a dry laugh.
He watches me for a long moment, then exhales.
“You thought he was the stalker.”
“At first, yes. The notes stopped after he died, but then they started again. Even though it wasn’t his style, it was easier to believe it was him—easier than accepting the alternative. But after our engagement party, they escalated into something far more than just words on paper.”
Dante doesn’t move, but I can feel his tension crackling like a live wire.
“You already know the rest.” I finish.
His voice is grim.
“I’ll find him.”
His eyes flick over me, dark and unreadable.
“And when I do, he won’t live long enough to regret it.”
As we ascend the stairs and step into the bathroom, Dante strips off his gym shorts before turning to the large marble tub, filling it with steaming water.
He casts a glance over his shoulder, smirk laced with mischief. “Join me.”
I arch a brow, arms crossing.
“Dante, you’ll be late.”
His chuckle is low.
“Irrelevant.”
I give in, watching as Dante sinks into the bath, the water lapping over the sculpted planes of his body. He leans back against the marble, his gaze never leaving mine as he extends a hand.
With a sigh, I take it, stepping into the steaming water. The heat envelops me instantly, soothing against my skin. The moment I settle between his legs, his hands grip my waist, pulling me flush against him.
The last thing I hear before my moan drowns out his words is the dark, silken growl against my lips.
“Fuck the meeting. This is more important.”
And he proves it.
By the time Dante finally rises from the bath, I’m boneless, thoroughly wrecked from another round, my third orgasm leaving me too spent to do anything but sink deeper into the steaming water. I watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he steps out, water cascading down his body, muscles flexing as he reaches for a towel. He dries off, unfairly put together for a man who had just fucked me senseless. Wrapping the towel low around his hips, he glances back at me, smirking as I remain draped over the edge of the tub, skin flushed, body languid.
“Stay a little longer,”
he murmurs, smoothing a damp strand of hair from my face.
“Soak. Relax. I have to go.”
He presses a lingering kiss to my temple before stepping away. I watch, half-dazed, as he disappears through the door, his scent still hanging in the air.
With a sigh, I sink deeper into the massive soaking tub, letting the hot water soothe the ache he left in my muscles.
Eventually, I step out of the bath, steam curling around me as I reach for a towel, wrapping the plush fabric around my body. Moving toward the dresser, I pull open a drawer, retrieve a fresh pair of silk panties, and slip them on before dragging soft lounge shorts up my legs. An oversized tee follows, the fabric cool against my still-warm skin.
Just as I turn toward the door, a sharp pang lances through my lower abdomen, deep and twisting, spreading through my lower back like a dull, insistent throb.
Wonderful.
I exhale, pressing a hand to my stomach. My period is here. Three days of cramps, cravings, and hormonal warfare ahead.
With a muttered curse, I turn back toward the bathroom, rummaging through the cabinets until I find what I need. After taking care of myself, I slip back into bed, curling beneath the sheets in an attempt to ride out the dull ache twisting through my lower abdomen.
Minutes pass, maybe longer. Eventually, I glance at the clock on the nightstand, to see that’s already lunchtime.
With a quiet sigh, I push myself up, padding out of the room and making my way toward the dining area. The faint clink of silverware draws my attention to the long table, where Mattia sits alone, hunched over a plate of pasta, swinging his feet.
His dark hair is a mess. His shirt is slightly oversized. The kid looks like he rolled straight out of bed and into his seat.
I slide into the chair next to him, reaching for a plate.
“Guess it’s just us, huh?”
Mattia shrugs, twirling his fork.
“Papa and Leo are working. Mario too. Big meeting with the families.”
I already saw the men arriving earlier. Dante’s four Capos. He hadn’t said anything, but I’d felt his presence shift the moment they stepped inside.
“Well,”
I say, spearing a cherry tomato with my fork.
“how about we spend the day by the pool?”
Mattia pauses mid-bite, lowering his fork as he gives me a flat look.
“You don’t know how to swim.”
I roll my eyes.
“No need to mention it every time.”
I wave a hand dismissively.
“I’ll just lounge by the pool, soak up some sun. No need to get in the water.”
He squints at me, clearly unimpressed.
“So you’re just gonna sit there like an old lady?”
I smirk.
“Exactly. But don’t drown, because I won’t be able to jump in and save you.”
Mattia scoffs, stabbing at his pasta.
“You’re supposed to say, I won’t let you drown!”
I pop the tomato into my mouth, feigning indifference.
“I prefer realism over empty promises.”
He groans, shoving another bite of pasta into his mouth, clearly unimpressed with my lack of concern for his hypothetical drowning.
After lunch, we make our way to the pool. Mattia wastes no time diving in, cutting through the water with ease while I stretch out on a lounge chair, book in hand, soaking in the afternoon sun. The estate is quiet, the rhythmic sound of splashing the only real disturbance as he flips and twists through the water, showing off. Occasionally, he calls out for me to watch, and I offer a lazy thumbs-up over the pages of my book.
Hours slip by in easy silence, the warmth of the sun lulling me into a state of comfort, at least until the persistent ache in my lower back starts to creep in again.
By the time dinner rolls around, the discomfort has worsened. I shift in my seat at the dining table, trying to find a position that doesn’t make me want to groan in frustration.
Bianca brings out steaming plates of risotto and grilled vegetables. Dante, Leonardo, and Mario are still locked in their meeting.
I sip my water, absently rubbing at my stomach as dinner carries on. The ache in my lower back lingers, dull but persistent, but I ignore it, focusing instead on Mattia, who’s happily finishing off his plate.
“Want to watch a movie after?”
I ask, pushing my glass aside.
Mattia’s eyes light up instantly. “Yeah!”
He sits up straighter.
“But I’m picking.”
I arch a brow.
“That depends. What are we watching?”
He hums in thought, clearly debating his choices, but I can already tell it’ll be something animated or a ridiculous action film that defies all logic. Either way, I nod.
“Fine. But if it’s terrible, I reserve the right to mock it the entire time.”
After dinner, we make our way to the theatre room, because, of course, this estate has one. Bianca has already set out snacks for us, neatly arranged on a low table in front of the oversized plush seating. I sink into one of the lounge chairs, stretching my legs as I get comfortable.
Mattia hesitates for a second before wandering off. I watch him, brow furrowing as he moves toward the corner of the room, grabbing something. When he turns back, he’s holding a thick blanket, his cheeks slightly pink as he places it over me.
I blink, momentarily caught off guard, before my lips curve. “Thanks.”
I pause.
“Do you want to share?”
Mattia shrugs, playing it off like it’s nothing, but the way he immediately sits beside me and tugs the blanket over his lap gives him away.
The movie begins, some fast-paced animated film with a ridiculous plot. I try to pay attention, but eventually, my mind drifts.
It happens every time I’m on my period. Even when I’m full, I still want something, something specific, something random. Cravings hit differently when I’m like this. Maybe it’s just in my head, or maybe I’m just wired this way, but either way, my thoughts wander to something sweet, fresh.
Lychee.
The thought settles in my mind, vivid and consuming, as though I can already taste it, the delicate flesh, the burst of flavour, the way it would be exactly what I need right now.
I sit up slightly, glancing at Mattia.
“Do we have lychee?”
Mattia freezes, tearing his eyes from the screen to stare at me like I’ve just asked for something absurd. “Lychee?”
“Yeah.”
His face scrunches.
“Who eats lychee?”
“I do,”
I say simply.
“And I need some. Right now.”
Mattia stares at me, unimpressed.
“You’re so weird.”
I glare.
“Do we have it or not?”
He shrugs.
“I don’t think so. Never seen anyone eat lychee around here.”
“Great.”
I push the blanket off my legs and stand.
“Then we need to go buy some.”
Mattia snorts.
“You know you can just ask someone to get it, right?”
I wave him off.
“No. I need to pick them myself.”
He frowns.
“But you need to take the guards.”
I lean in slightly, lowering my voice.
“We take one. Someone at the gate. No one else needs to know.”
I grab my phone.
“Let’s go.”
Mattia stares at me, gears turning. Then, his mischievous grin spreads.
“I know a way out without being seen.”
I squint.
“That sounds suspicious.”
His grin widens.
“Trust me.”
Five minutes later, I find myself dangling from the damn balcony.
“Why did I listen to an eight-year-old?”
I mutter under my breath.
“Stop complaining,”
Mattia hisses from below.
“Just… drop already!”
I glance down. It’s not that high. But still.
“We have a door, you know.”
Mattia rolls his eyes.
“But the guards will see us! This way, we sneak out.”
I huff.
“This feels like some kind of stupid Spider-man fantasy you wanted to act out.”
Mattia’s lips purse.
“I don’t even like Spider-Man.”
I blink. “What?”
“I like Batman.”
He says proudly.
I scoff, gripping the ledge, lowering myself down.
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s just—"
With a steady breath, I let go, landing with a soft thud.
Mattia grins, lifting his palm like he’s ridiculously proud.
“Good job!”
We clap our hands together in triumph, a shared moment of victory that is short-lived. Because when we turn, we find ourselves face to face with Dante, standing just ten feet away. Leonardo and Mario flank him, both struggling to contain their amusement, while behind them, standing in silent judgment, are Dante’s four Capos, the heads of the families he commands.
All of them watching.
I go still. Mattia stiffens beside me.
Leonardo exhales a full, unrestrained laugh, shaking his head in pure amusement. Mario smirks, arms folding over his chest as though thoroughly entertained.
Dante’s gaze drifts between the two of us, his expression impenetrable, except for the glint of dark amusement simmering beneath the surface. Slowly, he crosses his arms, his presence commanding without effort.
“Would either of you care to offer an explanation?”
His voice is low, coated in quiet, unmistakable menace.
I shift on my feet, suddenly feeling very fucking small. My cheeks heat.
Mattia clears his throat.
“Harlow really wants lychee.”
Dante’s brows lift, but before he can reply, one of his Capos, Adriano Esposito, steps forward, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.
“It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Salvatore.”
His tone is smooth, laced with amusement.
I hold his gaze, unimpressed.
“Likewise, Mr. Esposito.”
Dante’s jaw tightens, a flicker of restrained impatience in his expression.
“You are dismissed.”
The men nod in silent acknowledgment before turning away, heading toward their cars without another word.
Dante’s gaze snaps back to me, sharp and expectant.
“We have a door, wife.”
I cross my arms, mirroring his stance.
“I am well aware.”
He opens his mouth, about to ask something, but I lift a hand, cutting him off.
“Please don’t ask.”
His lips press into a thin line before he exhales slowly.
“I trust you weren’t planning to go off alone.”
I roll my eyes.
“Dante, I’m not reckless. I would never jeopardize my safety, let alone Mattia’s.”
My voice is firm.
“I was going to take one of the guards from the gate. I simply didn’t want to make a spectacle of it.”
Before Dante can respond, Leonardo lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head.
“Ah, yes. Because sneaking off in the dead of night, dropping from balconies like some runaway heiress, is the height of subtlety.”
His smirk is sharp, laced with amusement.
“If that wasn’t a spectacle, I’d love to see what you consider one.”
Before I can fire back, Dante exhales slowly, a dark smile curving at the corner of his lips.
“You should have told me.”
His voice is smooth, but there’s an edge to it, a quiet warning beneath the words.
I exhale, exasperated but refusing to escalate the conversation further.
“I just wanted a damn piece of fruit. Can we move on from this now?”
Beside me, Mattia, bless him, chooses that exact moment to interject.
“Yeah, she’s on her period.”
Silence.
Absolute. Unrelenting. Silence.
Dante blinks, his entire posture going rigid.
Leonardo snorts, barely containing his laughter.
Mario turns his back, shoulders shaking as he tries, and fails, to hide his amusement.
I whirl on Mattia, staring at him like he’s just announced something truly groundbreaking.
“How on earth do you even know that?”
He shrugs, completely unfazed.
“I heard it in a movie once.”
Then, with all the confidence of an eight-year-old who thinks he knows everything, he adds.
“And at school. The girls talk about gross stuff.”
He makes a face, then puffs out his chest.
“But I told you—I’m a big boy. And you were acting weird all day.”
I press a hand to my temple. “Right.”
Dante exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose as if summoning patience from the depths of hell. His tone is clipped, brokering no argument.
“You two, get in the car.”
I hesitate.
“Now.”
With an exhale, I turn toward the vehicle. Mattia follows without a care in the world, entirely too cheerful given the circumstances.
Dante falls into step beside me, his voice low, edged with something darkly amused.
“You’d best hope that lychee was worth it, wife.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
Oh, fuck.