by Cora Reilly
Bibiana had said the same, but his casual tone and dismissive body language were too much. He acted as if none of this was my business.
Anger burned through my veins. I could feel my temper bursting out of its cage, but I was too shaken to rein it in. “So you didn’t mind the company of prostitutes, but you can’t take your own wife’s virginity?”
That got his attention, and now I wished it hadn’t. His blue eyes shot up. I wished I could shove the words back into my mouth, wished he’d return his gaze to his whiskey. Maybe there was even a flicker of confusion on his face for a millisecond, before the schooled mask of calm slipped back on.
I turned around without another word, shocked by what I’d said, terrified of the consequences my outburst might bring down on me. The clink of a glass being set down on mahogany sounded behind me, followed by the creak of the armchair. My throat closed up, iciness filling my chest. My fingers clutched the banister as I made my way upstairs. His steps followed after me, calm and measured. I suppressed the desire to look back or even run. Dante couldn’t see how shaken I was. What was I going to do?
He’d demand answers. Answers I couldn’t give him, promised never to give anyone. But Dante was the Boss. Nobody got to that position without knowing how to acquire information. He wasn’t going to torture me, or even raise a hand to me. But I was sure he didn’t need to.
I slipped into the bedroom, then stopped in front of the window overlooking the premises. There was nowhere else to run. The bed was looming in the corner of my eye. I closed my eyes when I heard Dante enter the room and close the door behind him. His tall form appeared behind me in the reflection of the window. I lowered my gaze to my fingers, which were tracing the cool marble of the windowsill. Sometimes I felt like I could handle everything, like I was the sophisticated, controlled woman Dante probably wanted, but in moments like this I felt like a stupid girl.
“Virginity?” he said without a hint of emotion. The gift of all men in the Outfit. If you grew up with violence and death, you learned to seal your heart off from the world. Why didn’t they teach the same to the women of the Outfit? “You and Antonio were married for four years.”
I didn’t turn around, didn’t even dare to breathe. How could I have let that slip? My mistake could ruin Antonio’s reputation, and mine for agreeing to his plan. Being gay was a punishable crime in the mafia, and I’d pretty much helped Antonio to commit it. I focused on breathing, on the feel of the marble against my fingertips, on the trees bowing down to the wind outside.
“Valentina.” This time a faint hint of strain carried in the word.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I whispered. “It was just a figure of speech. I didn’t mean it in the literal sense.” I was a good liar, didn’t have a choice but to become one. “As you said, Antonio and I were married for four years. Of course I’m not a virgin.”
His hand touched my hip and I practically jerked forward a foot, colliding with the windowsill. I gasped in pain, then bit down on my lip to swallow the sound. I’d been longing for Dante to touch me for days, and now that he did I wished he’d go back to ignoring me.
Dante was watching me in the window. “Turn around,” he said in a low voice. I didn’t even hesitate. His voice, even without menace and danger in it, carried too much authority for me to resist. I steeled myself as I faced him, focusing on the buttons of his white dress shirt. His eyes would undo me. Every muscle in my body was tense like a bowstring. He put a finger below my chin and lifted it, forcing me to meet his gaze. Again the touch. Why would he touch me now, while before he’d gone out of his way to keep distance between us?
I swallowed. Be strong, Valentina. The wish of a dead man is sacred. Don’t break your promise.
And it wasn’t only Antonio I was protecting. I’d lived a lie, had as good as lied to Dante himself since our first encounter, had led him to believe one thing while the other was true. I wished there was emotion on Dante’s face, even anger; I could have dealt with that, but he gave nothing away. Always the iceman.
“So your words downstairs were simply meant to provoke?” He sounded calm and curious, but I didn’t let that fool me. I had all his attention.
I couldn’t say anything. The way he’d worded it made it seem really bad. What was he thinking? I wished I had the slightest hint if he was in a good or bad mood.
He won’t hurt you, Valentina.
He hadn’t done anything to me so far, but we hadn’t exactly interacted all that much in the few days of our marriage. And two days ago he’d been scary as hell when he’d found me with the photo albums.
The tension became too much and a tear slid out of my right eye, trailed down my cheek and caught on Dante’s finger that was still pushing my chin up. He frowned, releasing my chin. I immediately tore my gaze away from him and took a step back.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because you scare me!” It burst out of me.
“Until today you never seemed scared of me.” He was right. Except for a few brief occasions, I hadn’t been scared of him, but I knew with a man like him I should be scared.
“Then maybe I’m a good actress.”
“You have no reason to be scared of me, Valentina,” he said calmly. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
He closed his fingers around my wrist loosely. “You are lying about something. And as your husband, I want to know what it is.”
Anger flared up. This time it was quicker than caution. “You mean as the Boss you want to know, because so far you haven’t exactly been acting like my husband.”
He tilted his head, scrutinizing every inch of my face. “Why would you still be a virgin?”
“I told you I’m not!” I said desperately, trying to slip out of his hold, but he tightened his fingers slightly, only enough so I couldn’t escape. He pulled me against him, my chest pressed against his. Air left my lungs in a rush as I looked up at him. My heart pounded in my chest, my temples, my veins. And he felt it. That was why he was holding my wrist.
“So,” he said in a curious tone. “If I were to take you toward our bed right now—” He took a step, forcing me closer to the huge four-poster bed. “—and make you mine, I wouldn’t find out that you lied to me just now.”
I’d wanted nothing more than for him to want to finally bed me, and now that he used it as a threat to find out the truth, I wished I’d never wanted anything from him in the first place. Would he feel that I had never slept with a man? I’d only talked with other women about their experiences, but I didn’t know if men could feel if a woman was a virgin.
“You wouldn’t because you won’t take me to that bed now.”
“I won’t?” He raised one blond eyebrow.
“No, because you wouldn’t take me against my will. You disapprove of rape.” The words Bibiana had used still sounded strange coming from my lips, and it wouldn’t even be against my will. I’d thrown myself at Dante for days now; he must have known that I wanted him. Still wanted him despite everything. My body was practically humming with longing for his touch.
He chuckled. I’d never heard him laugh. It sounded empty. “That’s what you hear?”
“Yes,” I said more firmly. “You gave the Underbosses direct orders to tell their men you’d castrate anyone who used rape as a means of revenge or torture.”
“I did. I think a woman should never have to submit to anyone but her husband. But you are my wife.”
“But still.” My words were a bare whisper, filled with uncertainty.
He nodded once. “Yes, still.” He let go of my wrist. Relief flooded me. “Now I want you to tell me the truth. I’ll always treat you with respect, but I expect the same from you. I don’t tolerate lies. And eventually, we will share a bed and then, Valentina, I’ll know the truth.”
“When will we ever share a bed like husband and wife, and not just sleep beside each other? Will that ever happen?” I snapped. My stupid mouth, always runnin
g free.
His expression flickered with something I couldn’t place. “The truth,” he said simply, but with authority. “And remember I will know eventually.”
I lowered my face. Would the truth make things worse between Dante and me? It would definitely be much worse if he found out I’d openly lied to him, which he would if we ever consummated our marriage.
“Valentina,” Dante said tersely.
“What I said in the living room was the truth.” I was relieved and terrified when the words were out of my mouth. How much longer could I have kept up the lie anyway?
Dante nodded, a strange look on his face. “That’s what I thought, but now I ask why?”
“Why is it such a surprising thought that Antonio didn’t want me? Maybe he didn’t find me attractive. You obviously don’t, or you wouldn’t spend most evenings in your office and your nights with your back to me. We both know that if you wanted me, if you found me desirable at all, I’d have lost my virginity on our wedding night.”
“I thought we agreed on the fact that I wouldn’t force you,” he said. I searched his eyes because there had been a trace of anger in his voice.
“But you wouldn’t have to force me. You are my husband and I want to be with you.” Heat flooded my cheeks. “I’ve practically thrown myself at you for days now, and you didn’t even notice my body. If you found me attractive, you would have showed some kind of reaction. I guess I’m just lucky to always end up with husbands who find me repulsive.”
“You aren’t repulsive to me,” he said firmly. “Trust me, I find you attractive.”
I must have looked doubtful, because he closed the distance between us. “I do. Do not doubt my words. Whenever I catch a glimpse of the creamy white skin of your thighs…” He traced my thigh through the high slit of my nightgown. I had to stifle a surprised gasp at his sudden proximity. Goose bumps erupted all over my body. “Or when I see the outline of your breasts through the little nothings you wear to bed…” He ran his finger gently over the lacy edge of my nightgown, right above my breasts. “I want to throw you onto our bed and bury myself in you.” He dropped his hand, back to not touching me again.
My eyes widened. “You do? Then why—”
He cut me off with a finger against my lips. “It’s my turn to ask questions, and you promise not to lie.” I stared at him, nodding. Had he said the truth? Did he want me?
“Why did Antonio not sleep with you?” Dante asked, still standing so close that his warmth flooded my body. I could hardly focus.
“I promised him not to tell anyone ever.”
“Antonio is dead,” Dante said. He didn’t sound sorry. “I’m your husband now, and your promise to me is more important.”
I averted my eyes. He was right, but I’d carried the truth with me for so long, it had almost become a part of me. Dante would probably figure it out eventually.
“Valentina?”
“Antonio was gay,” I blurted. Finally the burden of Antonio’s lie didn’t rest on my shoulders anymore. It felt freeing.
Dante seemed stunned for a moment. “I never suspected anything. Are you sure?”
I rolled my eyes. “He brought his lover home sometimes.”
“Why didn’t he sleep with you to create offspring? That would have fended off possible suspicions.”
I hesitated. “I don’t think that would have worked. You know…” I gestured in the general direction of Dante’s groin.
“He was infertile?”
I flushed. “No, he mentioned once that he couldn’t get one up with women.” The words rushed out of me.
“Who was his lover?” he asked casually, but I knew better than to trust his outward disinterest. His eyes revealed a hint of his fervor to get an answer from me. I had a feeling that he was trying to use my emotional state against me, but I wasn’t that easily thrown off my guard.
I shook my head. Frank was still alive and still very much not a member of the Outfit. If Dante found out that Antonio had dated an outsider… I didn’t even want to consider the consequences. He wouldn’t stop until he found the person, and I knew exactly what would happen to Frank then.
“I can’t tell you. Please don’t make me.”
Dante touched my upper arms without any pressure. “If it’s someone from the Outfit I need to know, and if he isn’t…the Outfit comes first. I need to protect all those placing their trust in me.”
He would kill Frank, and maybe even have him tortured first to make sure Frank gave away the names of all the people who knew about Antonio.
I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if that happened. I wanted to close my eyes against Dante’s piercing gaze, but I knew it would be a bad idea. “I can’t tell you. I won’t. I’m sorry, Dante, but no matter what you do, I won’t give you a name.”
Anger flashed across Dante’s face, fiercer than yesterday. This was real fury, and for the first time it was directed at me. What had Bibiana said? Dante didn’t tolerate disobedience. “You’ve lived a sheltered life, Valentina. I’ve had hardened men say the same to me, and in the end they gave up all their secrets.”
“Then do what you have to do,” I snapped, pulling away. “Cut off my toes and feed them to me. Beat me, burn me, cut me, but I’d rather die than be responsible for the death of an innocent man.”
“So he’s an outsider.”
I stared at him agape. That’s what he gathered from my outburst? God, he was good at this. He hadn’t hurt as much as a hair on my head and had already gotten information out of me. “I didn’t say that.”
But it was too late. Dante smirked. “You didn’t have to.” His eyes were keen and eager. He looked like someone on the hunt. “If Antonio took his lover home, I assume you’ve met him and know his name and can describe him to me.”
I pressed my lips together, glowering at him. Not in one million years would I tell him what he wanted to know. I’d already said too much. I’d have to be more vigilant in the future.
Dante came closer again. He touched my hips and despite everything, the simple contact sent tongues of fire through my belly. I wanted him, maybe more than ever before. What was it that made dangerous men so irresistible?
“Aren’t you loyal to me?” he murmured. “Don’t you think you owe me the truth? Don’t you think it’s your duty? Not only because I’m the Boss of the Outfit, but because I’m your husband.”
“And you owe me a decent wedding night. As my husband, it should be your duty to take care of my needs. I suppose we both will have to live with the disappointment.”
His mask cracked. Without warning, he gripped me and whirled me around so my back was pressed against his chest.
“I’m a patient hunter, Valentina,” Dante said in a low voice that I could feel all the way to my core. “You will tell me what I want to know eventually.” His hand slid down my side to my thigh, lingering there for a moment, making me hold my breath in anticipation and confusion. He pushed up my nightgown as he stroked his way up to my panties. I shivered and pressed myself even harder against his chest. The crisp fabric of his shirt rustled at the contact. It was a strangely erotic sound. Dante slipped a finger under the lacy fabric of my panties and brushed my folds. I whimpered, already wet and aching from our argument and his closeness. I wasn’t sure why he was suddenly touching me or what had brought on that change of mind, and I didn’t care as long as he kept touching me. He dipped his fingers between my lower lips and his breathing deepened. “You want this?”
“Yes,” I hissed, rubbing myself shamelessly against his hand, but his other arm came around my waist and held me fast. “I want you, Dante.”
“Tell me what I want to know.” He stroked his fingers slowly back and forth. The slow sensual assault was making me breathe heavily. I was already so close. My body had waited too long for this. My legs started to shake and I threw my head back against Dante’s shoulders. “Don’t you want me?” I panted, instead of what he wanted to hear. His finger brushed my clit as if in answer,
and I came apart with a small cry as ecstasy exploded through me. Dante’s arm around my waist kept me upright, strong and unyielding, as I trembled under my climax.
“I do. That’s the problem,” he growled. Suddenly, he let me go and stepped back. I gripped the windowsill to stop myself from falling to the floor. I whirled around, my pulse still pounding in my veins, but Dante was already on his way out of the room.
What had just happened?
CHAPTER NINE
Dante didn’t come to bed that night. I waited for a long time, unable to fall asleep, too confused by what had happened. He’d admitted he wanted me, had touched me, but then he’d pulled back. Why? When I woke the next morning, his side of the bed was untouched, and when I walked into the dining room thirty minutes later, his newspaper lay discarded beside a clean plate.
Worried, I approached his office. It was silent behind the door but that didn’t mean anything. I knocked, then entered without waiting for a reply. I didn’t want to give Dante the chance to put up his defenses. Maybe if I caught him by surprise again we’d get somewhere. Dante sat behind a black wood desk and narrowed his eyes when I entered his office for the first time. Maybe he felt like I’d encroached on his personal space again by intruding.
My eyes settled on the silver picture frame on his desk. A picture of his smiling first wife. It sat in the middle of the desk as if he’d hastily put it down when I’d opened the door. There weren’t any other photos in the room.
My stomach lurched violently. Trying to hide my hurt, I met his disapproving gaze. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my home too, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is, but this is my office and I need to work.”
“You always do. I wanted to see if you were all right.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I be?
“Why? Because you acted very strange yesterday. One moment you’re touching me and the next you can’t get away from me fast enough.”