“Never say lovely again.”
“LOVELY!” Chase yelled loudly. “Besides, the sooner she gets under someone’s protection, the safer she is.” His expression sobered. “She doesn’t want in this life anymore. And we’re able to give her that choice,” He slapped me on the shoulder. “So try not to kill the lucky bastard, eh?”
I swore. “No promises.”
“Yeah well, I’ll tell Nixon to dig a hole just in case.”
“Make it deep,” I murmured.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
El
SOMEONE WAS KNOCKING on the bathroom door.
Which would have been weird if I wasn’t fully aware of the someone and the room connected to it.
I jerked it open. To see Dante staring at me, wearing nothing but low-slung jeans and a smile.
I kept my eyes focused on his face.
And tried not to let them linger too long on his mouth or anywhere below his chin where I knew there would be chunky abs and a V that dipped deep into his pants.
My eyes followed the direction of my thoughts, I didn’t even realize I was staring until one finger tilted my chin back up. At least he looked more amused than offended, while my face heated to a painful degree.
You’d think I’d never seen a naked man before.
Then again, my husband hadn’t ever… let me touch him in any way, I was there for his pleasure.
Not my own.
And most of the time, I was taken swiftly, in every way that made it possible for him to get off while I never even got to look into his eyes.
I shoved the memory away.
Along with the feelings of his hands on me.
Well at least I wasn’t embarrassed anymore.
Numb again. One more parting gift from him I supposed.
“So,” Dante shoved his hands in his pockets. “Since we’re friends… I thought I’d give you a fair warning.”
My stomach leaped into my throat with all the possibilities of what he could be talking about. “That jackass of a cousin is coming to dinner tonight, the one they want you to marry.”
I made a face.
“Exactly.” Dante scowled. “I just didn’t want you to get blindsided.”
“Can’t I just…” I licked my lips and then braced my hands against the doorframe, he took a cautious step back like he was afraid I was going to lunge my body at him. “Can’t I just change my identity? Move?”
He sighed, then gave me a pitiful look that parents give children when they explain that Santa isn’t real and that the Easter Bunny doesn’t crap chocolate. “Want the sugar-coated version?”
“Never,” I retorted.
He nodded, respect shone in his eyes. “There is nowhere you can go where they won’t find you. Nowhere you can go where I won’t be able to find you. They have people everywhere just like us, we have the FBI in our pockets, El, don’t be stupid enough to believe they don’t have people too. The only way out of this is in… you’re part of this life now, but it’s your choice how much of it you want a part of. You can run — they like a good chase. Or you can marry some boring ex associate who likes to watch Netflix at night rather than wash blood off his hands. Your choice.”
My head snapped up. “What’s your favorite movie?”
He frowned. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Yeah, I run, I get chased, blood, death. You must marry. No arguing.”
“And your only question is about movies?”
“You said Netflix.”
“I was making a point.”
“Right and now I’m asking what your favorite movie is.”
His expression went from hardened criminal to sexy as hell and half-naked — again. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
I held out my hand.
Dante looked down, gripped hard, then jerked me against his warm chest, whispering in my ear so soft it tickled the hair at the back of my neck. “Newsies.”
I gasped.
He jerked away and winked. “You promised. I take promises very seriously, they’re basically blood oaths, you break your promise and I kill you.”
“Not if I kill you first.”
“Empty threats.” He smirked. “Do you even know how to use a gun?”
I shrugged. “Maybe one day you’ll find out.”
He licked his lips, took a purposeful step toward me until we were both standing in my room. Tension swirled around us.
A knock sounded at my door.
He squeezed my hand then turned around and quietly shut the bathroom door behind him, just as I opened my bedroom door.
Nixon was standing there with Trace.
He was holding their baby in one arm, and the bottle in the other. “How was school?”
I glared past him then shook my head. “I lived to see another day.”
He smirked while Trace rolled her eyes and pointed at him as if to say sorry, he’s turned into a dad now.
“So,” She stepped around him while he fed the baby. “We have company tonight.”
“Yeah Dante filled me in.”
Nixon’s eyes narrowed while Trace looked hopeful. “He’s sweet, I promise.”
Sweet. I used to want sweet.
I’d already slept with the devil.
I deserved an angel, right?
So why did the angel have Dante’s dark features and light eyes.
“Yeah, okay, thanks… I’ll get ready.”
“It’s going to be fine,” Nixon said gruffly. “This is the only way.”
“I know,” I nodded. “And thank you.”
They left.
And I sat on my bed, feeling… empty.
The door to the bathroom clicked open, and suddenly Dante was in my room, sitting on my bed and pulling open a laptop.
Newsies was playing. The music filled my room.
“We have time,” he encouraged.
But we didn’t. Not really.
Because one day, he would knock on that bathroom door.
And I would be gone.
Nothing but a nice memory.
Of a girl who asked for his friendship.
Of a girl who was starving for human contact.
And the man who was both monster and savior — who gave it to her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Dante
HIS NAME WAS Chris.
What the hell kind of Italian name was Chris?
I hated him already.
It was a completely irrational feeling.
Deep down in the darkness of my chest where my heart attempted to make me feel things — I knew, I knew he’d done nothing wrong but get saddled with a Chris when he should have at least been a… I glanced back at him again and tilted my head as I memorized his features. Maybe he was a Chris.
Maybe I was over thinking it.
Because Chris was the guy you took home to your parents. God, his button-down shirt looked like it had been ironed a dozen times. His red tie tight around his neck like he was going to a funeral.
At least he wasn’t still in his blazer.
A fucking blazer.
It was blue.
He literally showed up at our house looking like an American flag, maybe that was on purpose — he wanted to look like the American dream? A perfect American little husband?
I scowled while Nixon continued introducing him to the rest of the family. I’d been sitting at that table for the last five minutes wondering how long it would take El to politely send him on his way.
“You look beautiful.” Chris reached for her hand and kissed it in front of everyone and then casually sat and laid a hand on the chair she was sitting in like he was ready to wrap his arm around her.
Like he had a right to.