by Leigh, T. K.
“Of course you will, Eleanor. You—”
“Please, Dante. Maybe I’ll come to regret this decision, but if there is such a thing as fate, as you seem to believe, you must also believe in karma.”
He nodded subtly.
“Then the universe will make sure he eventually pays, but without also clipping my wings.”
Dante closed his eyes, biting his lip. His jaw clenched, every muscle in his body seeming to tighten. Reluctantly, he released his hold on Brock, standing protectively in front of me.
“Good decision, Ellie,” Brock snickered, his cocky attitude returning as he dusted off his pants, paying particular attention to a wrinkle around his knees. “No one would believe you anyway. And I’d make sure everyone knew exactly what kind of degenerate you are, how you get off from being beaten.”
Dante’s nostrils flared, the vein in his neck throbbing as he leaned into him, his face turning red. “Don’t you dare talk about her that way. If it were my decision, you’d be spending the next few decades of your life locked away. However, since I’d never assume I know what’s best for another person, you get a pass…this time. But if you so much as look at Eleanor the wrong way again, I will destroy you and your entire family.”
“Is that a threat?” Brock wiped a few droplets of blood from his lip, a smug look about him. I considered rethinking my decision, the arrogance on his face from not having to be held accountable for his actions eating at me. I wondered how many other times Brock had gotten a pass from suffering the consequences of what he’d done.
“Not a threat. You may not pay for your actions today, but one day, you will.”
“Doubtful. Power and money can buy a lot of things…including silence.” Straightening the lapels of his suit jacket, Brock pushed off the wall, sneering. “Good seeing you again, bro. Dad sends his love…” His lips curled into a pretentious smile. “Actually, he doesn’t. You know as well as I do that he doesn’t give a shit about you.”
Dante leaned into him, his fists clenching. “I am not your brother. And James is not my father. Now, get…out!”
Seemingly unaffected by the entire ordeal, Brock turned around and headed toward the front door. Unable to let him simply walk away with such an air of confidence, I scrambled after him before Dante could stop me.
“Brock, wait!” I called.
He spun around, his head still held high. “Yes?”
“Good luck trying to fuck your secretary with an ice pack on your balls.” Before he could react, I grabbed him by the shoulders and rammed my knee into his groin. All the kickboxing classes I’d taken for my wedding paid off as I looked at the agony washing over his expression, his eyes scrunched tight. As he crouched down, his face turning red, I pushed him out of the apartment, slamming the door.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled a deep breath, allowing the nerves and adrenaline from the encounter to wash off me. I felt physically exhausted, as if I hadn’t slept in days. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and pretend this morning never happened, but I had too many questions. I needed the answer to one in particular.
“Eleanor,” Dante began. I turned toward him, my lips pinched into a tight line. “I—” He tried to reach for me, but I slinked away.
“I just need to know one thing, Dante.” I placed my hands on my hips, my eyes narrowed.
“Anything. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” He clasped his hands in front of him, prayer-like.
I squared my shoulders, bracing myself for the answer I feared would come. “When I asked you to sleep with me, did you know who I was?”
He stepped toward me. “Eleanor, it’s not—”
I retreated, holding my hand up. “Yes or no, Dante. It’s a simple question, one that doesn’t require any explanation. No excuses. No lies.” I briefly looked away. “After everything I’ve been through with my parents and Brock, please give me the courtesy of being honest.” I peered at him, blinking back the tears I’d been able to keep at bay for the past several minutes. “Yes or no,” I squeaked out, my voice barely audible.
Dante hung his head, his formidable stance appearing unguarded and vulnerable for the first time since I met him. I didn’t even need to hear his response to know the answer. “Yes.”
I inhaled a shaky breath and bit my lip to stop my chin from quivering, but nothing could prevent the excruciating ache from building in my heart at the knowledge I had put my trust in a man who was no different than everyone else in my life. I was just a pawn in whatever game Dante was playing, too. I’d been stupid to think otherwise.
“That’s what I thought.” I pushed past him, grabbing my purse off the coffee table.
“Eleanor,” he pleaded, following me. I ignored him, not wanting to hear his excuses. This one lie tainted everything I thought I knew about him. How could I believe anything he told me again?
“Eleanor,” he said once more, but I still refused to listen. As I reached for the handle on the front door, he grabbed my wrist, forcing me to look at him. I winced in pain. He immediately dropped his hold on me. “I’m sorry. I—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. Not now. Not ever.” I threw open the door and dashed from the apartment, wishing I’d never gotten on that plane.
Chapter Two
I hurried past the Spanish Steps, the world around me spinning. It felt like every person walking by was staring, judging, disgusted by what I’d allowed Dante to do to me, how easily I’d fallen into his lies. Yes, my blood boiled at what Brock had done, how he’d broken into a place I thought was a sanctuary in this foreign land. Nothing could have been further from the truth. And the truth was Dante used me. I’d told him everything… Well, almost everything. Everything except who I was. But I didn’t need to. He obviously knew. He knew what I’d been through with my parents and Brock, yet he still lied to me, treating me with the same disrespect as everyone else. I didn’t think I could ever look at him the same way again. Not that it mattered. This was just supposed to be a short-lived fling with no feelings. No promises. No emotions.
Then why did my heart hurt more from this deception than it had when I walked in on Brock screwing his secretary? Why did my soul feel like it had been crushed? Why did my skin still ache to feel his hands on it, the absence of his touch burning my flesh, like an addict fighting through withdrawal?
Wiping away a few unwelcome tears, I flew past designer store after designer store — Armani, Cartier, Louis Vuitton, Hermes, Salvatore Ferragamo, Fendi — before stopping in front of a restaurant. I just wanted to feel numb for a minute. I didn’t care that it wasn’t yet noon. I needed a glass, or maybe a bottle, of something strong.
I was in a daze as I stepped up to the host stand and asked for an outside table, ignoring her obvious stare at the bruise on my neck. I quickly rearranged my hair to cover it, hiding my wrists behind my body, as well.
Once I was seated and the waiter had returned with my wine, I took a sip, the alcohol helping me relax enough to try to figure out what my next move should be. I came to Italy to get away from everything. Now I just wanted to get away from Italy. My frustration boiled inside me at how blind I’d been, how naïve I was. I never thought twice about why someone like Dante Luciano would be interested in me. Fairy tales weren’t real, and yet, for the past several days, I’d been living one. That should have tipped me off.
I took another sip of my wine, sneering at all the happy couples walking by on the streets of this city. I’d lived most of my life alone, but at that moment, I’d never felt more lonely. I would have given anything to have Mila with me, to hug me and tell me I’d get through this, that Dante didn’t matter, that I didn’t need him to have that fresh start I deserved.
Pulling my phone out of my purse, I powered it on, then pressed Mila’s contact. I didn’t even stop to look at what time it was in California. If Mila saw me calling, she’d pick up. She was the only person who’d always been there for me, no matter what.
“Hello,
” she answered groggily on the third ring.
“Hey,” I responded, trying to mask the tremble in my voice.
“Ellie?” I heard the concern in her tone. Her husband muttered something in the background, but she quickly shushed him. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
Was I? I didn’t know how I could possibly answer that question. I’d need some sort of standard in relation. I wasn’t okay now, nor had I ever been. I wondered if I ever would be.
“No, Mila,” I choked out, the compassion I felt from my only friend in the world causing the floodgates to overflow, the dam that had kept my tears at bay for years breaking. “I’m not okay.”
“Oh, Ellie,” she soothed. “What happened?”
“Brock found me.”
“He what?!” A refrigerator door slammed shut in the background, and I could picture Mila raiding her fridge. I would have given anything to be in her kitchen. The home she’d built with Steven, her husband, wasn’t as big and luxurious as I had been accustomed to, but the love surrounding me within those four walls made me feel richer than any bank account could. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I answered quickly, in no rush to relive his attack. “His balls may need a permanent ice pack attached to them, but I’m okay, relatively speaking.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
I bit my lower lip, unsure where to even begin.
“How did he find you?” she pushed when I remained silent.
“All I can think of is his brother told him.”
“Adam? How would Adam know where you are?”
“No,” I sighed. “Not Adam. His other brother.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. “He doesn’t have another brother. Just his sister, Helen.”
“Well, apparently, he does, but it was news to me, too. Technically, I guess they’d be half-brothers, but still…”
“Ellie, you’re not making any sense. Who’s his brother? Or half-brother or whatever?”
I drew in a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation I was about to have. “Dante. Dante Luciano.”
The line went quiet. I imagined she was sitting at the kitchen table or on the couch, a pint of ice cream in her hand, her jaw hitting the floor.
“Mila? Are you still there?”
“I’m sorry. There must be something wrong with our connection. For a minute it sounded like you said Brock’s brother is Dante Luciano.”
“I did.”
“Dante Luciano. The Dante Luciano, the hot chef?”
“One and the same,” I sighed dejectedly.
“Holy shit!” Mila exclaimed, then lowered her voice. “Damn. I now know where all the good genes went. He’s my free pass.”
“Your free pass?” I sat back in my chair, the ache in my chest temporarily lightening. Something about the familiarity of speaking with Mila made me feel as okay as I could possibly be.
“Yeah. If I ever had the opportunity to bump uglies with him, it doesn’t count as cheating. Now that you mention it, I’m pretty sure Steve picked him as his free pass, too. He’s got a serious boner for him. A few years ago, he was doing a one-man show in Hollywood, talking about his travels and stuff, and Steve made me get him tickets. Anyway, how did you find out he was Brock’s brother?” she finished without taking a breath. “I didn’t know that.”
“I didn’t, either, and I did my research on the guy.”
“Who? Brock?”
“No,” I exhaled. “Dante.”
In the silence, I heard the wheels turning in Mila’s head. “Ellie, why would you be reading up on Dante Luciano?”
“You told me I needed to have hot Italian sex, so I kind of propositioned someone…”
“You propositioned Dante Luciano?”
“I didn’t know who he was at the time,” I shot back, feeling stupid.
“Okay, back up. You need to tell me everything from the very beginning. And don’t leave out a single detail…about anything. And I do mean anything.” She giggled. The sound made me crack a smile, the heaviness that had weighed me down since learning the truth momentarily lifting.
“It all started when a man on a plane asked, ‘Business or pleasure?’” The corners of my lips turned up slightly as I rehashed the events of the past few days, starting with my encounter with Dante on the plane, our chance meeting at the restaurant he owned, and everything that happened after — the Trevi Fountain, the dark alley, the Spanish Steps, the tea room, the sex, the midnight snack of veal, the sex, the shopping excursion, the gala, the sex, the sex, and more sex. Then Brock appearing in Dante’s apartment, informing me they were brothers.
“Dante knew who I was when I…propositioned him.” I swallowed hard, the sting of what he’d done returning. “That’s the only reason he agreed in the first place.”
“He said that?” Mila pushed.
I hesitated, lowering my head, as if she were sitting right across from me. “Well, no. Not exactly.” I pinched my lips together.
“Then how do you know that’s the only reason he agreed?”
“What other reason is there?” I toyed with the stem of my wine glass, swirling the liquid. “Since the very beginning, I couldn’t help but think he had an ulterior motive. Now I know what it was. He agreed to sleep with me, then conveniently asked me to stay the week, just so he could tell Brock where I’d be, ensuring he stopped by when he wasn’t home.”
There was a pause on the line. Now that I had said it out loud, it sounded absurd. Mila’s silence only emphasized the ridiculousness of my theory. I’d never seen a person as angry as Dante was when he’d confronted Brock, the way the vein in his neck pulsed against his tanned skin, the hate in his eyes, the tension in his body. There was certainly no familial relationship between the two.
“You know I love you, right, Ellie?”
“Yes,” I answered, defeated.
“You’re a brilliant woman, and I certainly don’t envy anyone who’s ever had the displeasure of opposing you in the courtroom, but this… It doesn’t make sense. From what I’ve read up on Dante Luciano, the only family mentioned is his mother. Not one single mention of a father or brother. You’d think, if he had a close relationship with either of them, it would say something, particularly with both being big shots in politics. Think about it. Why would Dante sleep with you just to tell Brock where you were? He could do that without getting you into bed.”
“But I asked him if he knew who I was when he agreed to my proposition, and he said yes,” I argued, my lungs constricting, making it hard to breathe. I thought about all the things we’d done, how I’d allowed this man to debase me in order to feel more pleasure than I ever had. What was wrong with me?
“I’m not saying he’s without fault. I just don’t think you have the full picture.”
I opened my mouth to respond, then sighed, my shoulders falling. “Not like it matters,” I said in a small voice, finishing my glass of wine and reaching for the bottle. I stiffened when I saw it was a chianti from Luciano Vineyards — Dante’s vineyard. I hadn’t ordered anything in particular. I’d simply asked the waiter to bring me a bottle he recommended. I couldn’t help but think this was the universe playing a cruel trick on me. Mila would say it was a sign.
“We were just having some fun while I was here,” I stated firmly. “Nothing more.”
“I could be wrong, but it seems like this might be something bigger than just a vacation fling. If it were just a few nights of hot sex, you wouldn’t be this worked up.”
I remained silent, unable to lie to my best friend.
“You have feelings for him, don’t you?” she asked after a few moments.
“How could I?” I shot back, incredulous, refusing to admit the inconvenient truth to anyone…including myself. “I just met him. I took your advice and decided to have some really hot Italian sex while I’m here!” I looked around the outdoor café, a few men smirking at me. I brought my phone closer to my mouth, lowering my voice. “That’s all.”
“Just answer the damn question instead of talking around in circles, Ellie. Do you have feelings for Dante?”
I closed my eyes, almost able to feel the ghost of his embrace comforting me, his voice whispering how beautiful I was. No man had ever made me feel so valued, so admired, so cared for. The despair in his eyes as he admitted he knew who I was when I approached him with my proposition was as clear now as it was then. I wondered if it would be my last memory of him. I wondered if I wanted it to be my last memory of him.
“Stronger feelings than I should have after only knowing him for a few days,” I confessed softly.
“Then you owe it to yourself to get answers, to find out what game he’s playing, why he didn’t disclose his relation to Brock when he knew who you were.”
“Maybe it’s best it happened this way,” I insisted quietly. “This was just supposed to be a short, no-strings fling. Nothing will ever come of it. We live two separate lives. There’s no future for us.”
“Nothing in life is a certainty,” Mila responded. “Sometimes fate gives us exactly what we need when we’re too busy watching life pass us by.”
I opened my mouth, floundering to come up with an argument against her flighty, idealistic notion. The old Ellie would have rattled off a list a mile long of reasons why a relationship between Dante and I was doomed. But I’d come here to stop acting and thinking like the old Ellie.
“Fine,” I huffed. “I’ll go talk to him.”
“Good decision.”
Chapter Three
I stared at the heavy wooden door, my mouth like sandpaper, an emptiness in the pit of my stomach. Just days ago, what lay beyond this door held so much promise — of spreading my wings and learning to fly, of finally cutting the shackles my parents had constructed around me throughout my life. Now it was nothing but uncertainty. A voice told me this was a horrible idea. I should just turn around, hop on the next flight back to the States, and pretend the past few days never happened.