by Cora Reilly
“What about New York, do they deal in sex slaves?”
“No. That’s really only the Vegas Familia. I’m not saying that there aren’t voices in the Outfit who would like to change that, but as long as I’m Capo that won’t happen.”
“That’s good,” I said.
Dante’s eyes softened for a moment but then he turned away and extinguished the lights.
“Good night,” I whispered. I was still disappointed that Dante didn’t touch me, but at least he’d talked to me as if we were equals, not like I was a brainless woman who didn’t need to know anything about the business.
“Good night, Valentina,” Dante said into the dark. There was something in his voice I couldn’t identify and I was too tired to try.
CHAPTER SEVEN
If I’d thought last night’s chat with Dante would make him reconsider our seating arrangements during breakfast or even make him want to talk to me, I’d been horribly wrong. Like yesterday he disappeared behind his newspaper after a quick greeting. I wasn’t in the mood to fight for his attention. I was too confused and hurt by his continued disinterest in me. I only picked some fruit and drank a cup of coffee before I decided to excuse myself. Dante didn’t even look up from his newspaper when I walked out.
Usually I would have asked him if he wanted me to take one of his men as guard with me to Bibiana’s house, but I was too angry. I had a driver’s license. Antonio had wanted me to get one after we married, which sadly wasn’t the norm for men in our world. After I’d put on a coat and grabbed my purse, I walked into the garage. Dante had given me keys for the house and the garage. Of the three cars parked in the garage, the Mercedes GL was the least attention-grabbing. I took the car keys from a hook at the wall and slipped into the car. It took me a moment to find the button in the dashboard that opened the garage, but finally I steered the car outside and down the driveway. A guard I didn’t know patrolled the fence but didn’t try to stop me when I opened the gate with a press of another button. I drove off the premises and the gate closed automatically behind me.
It felt good to drive again, even if I didn’t like Chicago traffic, but it had been too long since I had been allowed to drive by myself. My parents had been too determined to keep me under their watch after Antonio’s death to let me go out alone. I knew the way to Bibiana’s home by heart, had driven it countless times over the years, and it took me only ten minutes from Dante’s mansion.
Bibiana’s and Tommaso’s house was much smaller than that of Dante and of my parents. They didn’t have a long driveway where I could have parked. Instead I had to leave my car in the street. Not that I was worried someone might steal it. Streets where mob members lived were usually quite safe, unless you counted the risk of attacks from the Bratva or Triad. I walked up to their front door, noticing one of Tommaso’s men sitting in a car on the other side of the street and watching the house. Tommaso wasn’t as highly ranked as the men in my family or the Scuderis, but he wasn’t a simple soldier either. He always kept a guard near the house to watch over Bibiana, or what I suspected: to make sure she didn’t run away.
He didn’t stop me, only tilted his head in a gesture of respect. I rang the bell. Bibiana opened the door, then glimpsed behind me. “Where are your guards?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t take any. Dante never said I had to take guards.”
“Won’t you get in trouble?” she asked as she closed the door and led me into their living room. As usual her husband wasn’t home. Bibiana of course didn’t mind. She’d gained a couple of pounds since Tommaso had been forced to work long hours. Now she didn’t look quite as emaciated anymore.
“Why would I?” I said. I wasn’t even sure if Dante cared if I left the house without protection. He seemed too busy with God knows what.
Bibiana gave me a worried look. “You should be careful. Dante is a dangerous man. He always looks so calm and in control, but Tommaso told me Dante doesn’t tolerate disobedience.”
That didn’t really come as a surprise, but I couldn’t really disobey him if he didn’t give me an order in the first place. “I’m not one of his soldiers.”
I sank down on the sofa. Bibiana took a seat beside me, curiosity filling her face. “So how was your wedding night?”
My lips twisted. “I slept well,” I said sarcastically.
Bibiana blinked at me. “Huh? That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant,” I said, frustrated. “Nothing happened. Dante gave me the cold shoulder.”
“He didn’t try to sleep with you? What about last night?” I wished Bibiana didn’t sound so stunned; it made me feel even worse. As if somehow it was my fault that I hadn’t managed to make Dante want me. I knew she didn’t mean it that way.
“He didn’t even kiss me. He just lay down beside me and said he had an early day, and then he turned off the light and fell asleep. What kind of wedding night is that?” I leaned my head against the backrest. “I don’t get it.”
“Maybe he was really tired,” Bibiana said tentatively.
I gave her a look. “Do you really believe that? He looked fit enough to me. And what about yesterday? Was he tired then too?” I bit my lip. “Do you think it’s still because of his wife?”
Bibiana twisted a strand of her brown hair around her finger nervously. “Maybe. I hear he adored her. They were the dream couple in Chicago.”
I’d never paid much attention to Dante and his wife in the past, but I remembered seeing them together at social gatherings. I remembered thinking they looked like they belonged together. There were few couples in our world who looked like they were together because they loved each other. Most of them married for convenience, but with Dante and his wife Carla you had seen that they were meant to be together. Fate was cruel for ripping them apart, and even crueler for throwing me into the arms of a man who’d already found the love of his life once. “Maybe he hasn’t been with a woman since his wife died. That could be the reason why he didn’t try to consummate our marriage.”
Bibiana avoided my gaze and reached for a macaron on the silver étagère on the table in front of us. She shoved it into her mouth and chewed as if it afforded all of her concentration. Dread filled my stomach. “Bibi?”
Her eyes darted to me, then they were gone again. She swallowed and reached for another sweet, but I grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “You know something. Did Dante have a lover since his wife’s death?”
Bibiana sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you.”
The words hollowed me out. “Didn’t want to tell me what?”
What if Dante had a steady lover? Someone he couldn’t marry for social and political reasons. Maybe that’s why he chose me, a widow, because he didn’t want to screw over a poor innocent girl like that. My head started spinning.
Bibiana gripped my hand tightly. “Hey, it’s not that bad. Calm down. You look like you’re going to pass out any moment.”
I reached for a green macaron and stuffed it into my mouth. The sweet taste of pistachio spread on my tongue and I relaxed slightly. “So spill before I come up with more horrible scenarios.” I could tell Bibiana wanted to ask what kind of scenarios had popped into my mind, but thankfully she didn’t. Bibiana knew me well enough to guess anyway. We’d been friends since we could both walk. She was the cousin closest in age to me and we’d always spend every free minute together. Even in school we’d been inseparable, except for the classes that we didn’t share because I was a year ahead. But it was difficult to make friends among normal people, so we’d stuck together. That hadn’t changed after we’d married. If possible we’d gotten even closer because we both could share our marriage troubles with each other without having to worry that anything would get out.
“My husband told me Dante frequented Club Palermo for a while.”
I froze. Club Palermo was a mob-owned night club with pole dancing, striptease and prostitution. Bibiana’s husband was the manager of the club. “What do you mean?”
Bibiana’s cheeks turned red. She looked like she regretted ever having brought it up. “He used prostitutes for sex.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to figure out why this hurt so much. Only last night we’d talked about prostitution, why hadn’t he mentioned something? I could almost see how that conversation would have gone. “Not anymore, right?”
“Oh no, it happened a while ago. About a year after his wife’s death, he had a rough stretch and came into the Club a couple of times per week to ‘let off some steam’, as Tommaso put it.”
It had been way before our marriage, and yet the knowledge that Dante had slept with prostitutes, but hadn’t even tried to kiss me hurt a lot. “So he has no problem sleeping with other women, he just doesn’t want to sleep with me.”
“No, that’s not true. And like I said, he hasn’t visited Club Palermo in a long time.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t want to sleep with me. With Antonio, I could deal with it. I knew it was nothing personal. He wasn’t into me, because he wasn’t into women, but what is the reason for Dante’s disinterest? Maybe he doesn’t find me attractive.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Val. You’re gorgeous. He’d have to be blind not to be into you. Maybe he didn’t want to push you? You lost your husband less than a year ago and Dante doesn’t know that you and Antonio were never a real couple.”
“It’s not like I don’t miss, Antonio,” I said defensively. “I miss our conversations, and that he confided in me.”
“I know you do, but you don’t miss him physically. Maybe Dante thinks you’re not ready to get physical with another man.”
I pondered that. It seemed like a logical explanation, and Dante was nothing if not a logical man. On the other hand, Dante was a Made Man and they usually didn’t suffer from excessive sensitivity. “How many men do you know who would care about that?”
Bibiana grimaced. “Tommaso definitely wouldn’t.”
“See,” I said, feeling even more miserable. “It’s unlikely that Dante’s conscience is keeping him from sleeping with me. He’s a killer, and a skilled one at that. He’s the Boss for a reason.”
“That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have some scruples. I know that he strongly disapproves of rape.”
I snorted. “He disapproves?”
Bibiana gave me a stern look. “I’m serious. Dante told his men that he’d castrate anyone who would use rape as a form of torture, punishment or entertainment. Tommaso hates it because he thinks he should be allowed to do whatever he wants with the women in Club Palermo.”
I didn’t doubt that for one second. I’d lost count of the times he’d raped Bibiana. Of course, nobody called it rape in our world because she was his wife and her body belonged to him. Thinking about it made me sick. “Okay, so he has qualms about a couple of things.” It made sense after what he’d said about Gabi yesterday. Maybe he really didn’t want to initiate anything with me because he thought I was still mourning Antonio.
“Maybe you should make the first move?” Bibiana said.
“I pranced around him half-naked yesterday, what else can I do?”
“You could kiss him. Touch him.”
I knew how to kiss. Antonio had kissed me a few times. It had been nice. For me at least, so kissing Dante was definitely something I could do. “Touch him? Do you mean his you know what?”
Bibiana flushed. “I guess so? I never initiated anything with Tommaso but he always wants me to touch him there and blow him.” Bibiana took another macaron. I knew she hated talking about sex with Tommaso. Who wouldn’t?
“Touching him can’t be too hard.”
“Oh, it’ll be hard.”
I laughed. “Dirty jokes already? The macarons really get you going.”
Bibiana giggled and shook her head. “You will be fine. Even if you blow him, you can’t do anything wrong. Use no teeth and you should swallow, that are the two most important things.”
I had to hide a grimace. I wasn’t so much disgusted by the idea of giving Dante a blowjob, but the image of Bibiana having to swallow Tommaso’s stuff made me want to hurl.
“The good thing about blowjobs is that most men love them, so if you’re not into the actual sex, then you can keep them happy that way.”
I really hoped it didn’t come to that. I knew the only orgasm Bibiana’s ever experienced was by her own hand, but I really didn’t want to share her fate.
“I’ll give it a try tonight,” I said, suddenly feeling more hopeful.
“Call me tomorrow. I want to know how it went.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know if something exciting happens.”
***
That night when Dante joined me in bed I gathered all my courage, scooted over to him and touched his naked chest. It was warm and firm. Dante stilled under my touch, his brows drawn together as he watched me. I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his. Dante deepened the kiss immediately, his tongue slipping into my mouth. This kiss was unlike the ones I’d experienced with Antonio. Dante claimed my mouth, making me tremble with the need for more. I let my hand slide lower, down his stomach. He drew back and gripped my hand, stopping its descend. He shook his head, his eyes alight with something dark and angry. “You should sleep now, Valentina.”
I stared at him, uncomprehending. What had just happened? He’d kissed me as if he wanted to devour me and then he stopped without an explanation. I snatched my hand out of his grasp, fighting the tears of anger rising into my eyes. Without a word, I rolled around, my back to Dante, and closed my eyes.
“I know you went to Bibiana without protection today. That won’t happen again. You can go wherever you want. You can even drive yourself, but from now on I want one of the guards at your side when you leave this house. It’s too dangerous for you outside these walls,” he said as if he hadn’t just kissed me, as if he wasn’t the slightest bit affected by what we’d done.
I pressed my lips tightly together. I wanted to scream in frustration, but instead more tears pooled in my eyes.
“Understood?” Dante asked after a while.
I had to bite back a scathing comment. “Yes, understood.”
We both fell silent again, not touching, as if we were two strangers forced into the same bed by accident. And that was actually too close to reality than I liked. The throbbing between my legs was almost unbearable, but it was clear that Dante wouldn’t do anything about it. I wasn’t sure what to do anymore.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dante was a very private man. That’s what everyone always told me, which is why I knew how wrong it was for me to breach his privacy. But I needed to see the things Dante kept hidden behind the door Gaby had showed me. Maybe it would help me understand him better.
It was early afternoon, and Dante had left for a meeting at one of the Outfit’s underground casinos. I wasn’t sure when he’d be back but if the last two days since my embarrassing attempt at seduction were any indication, probably not before eight. It was silent in the house. Today was Gaby’s day off, and as usual Zita was busy in the kitchen and avoiding me.
I pushed down the handle and stepped into the room where Dante kept his dead wife’s memorabilia. The curtains were drawn, casting the room in darkness. I fumbled for the light switch but when I pressed it, nothing happened. I switched it back and forth a few more times until I decided that it was futile. After a moment of guilt-induced hesitation, I carefully felt my way toward the window and pulled the curtains apart. Coughing from a billow of dust from the heavy fabric, I blinked against the sudden light, my eyes tearing up. I wiped them quickly before I dared to look around.
There wasn’t a lamp attached to the ceiling, only a string of abandoned wires. No wonder the switch didn’t do anything. Dust particles danced in the air and a musty smell penetrated my nose. A fine layer of dust had gathered on every surface and even the ground. My footsteps were clearly visible. Briefly, panic threatened to overwhelm me. There was no way
I could hide my presence in the room if my footprints were all over the floor, but the way the room looked nobody had set foot inside in a long time, not even Dante, so he’d never find out.
The room was cluttered with furniture and cardboard boxes. There was a dark wood wardrobe, two dressers and a king sized four-poster bed. Slowly realization dawned on me. This must have been the master bedroom Dante and his wife had shared before her death. At least, I wasn’t sleeping in the same bed where Dante had made love to his dead wife. I tiptoed toward the wardrobe. I wasn’t even sure why I was trying to be quiet but it felt almost sacrilegious to be in this room. I opened the wardrobe and was hit by the smell of disuse and old clothes. Two dozen dresses hung from padded pink hangers, everything from long ball gowns, over pretty cocktail dresses to casual summer dresses. Some of them looked like they might have belonged in my wardrobe, but of course they were too small for me.
I brushed my fingers over the fabric. It was strange to think that the person who had worn them was long gone, buried in cold dark earth. With a shudder, I closed the door and stepped back, but my curiosity wasn’t sated yet. I opened one of the drawers of the cupboard beside the wardrobe and found it stacked with underwear. I quickly closed it. That definitely felt too personal. I couldn’t rummage in the lingerie of a dead woman, even if it might tell me something about Dante’s preferences. Hesitantly, I approached the second dresser. I opened the top drawer. It was empty except for two photo albums. I had a feeling the drawer had once belonged to Dante, stacked with his socks and briefs a long time ago. When he’d changed bedrooms, he’d left everything behind, even his own dresser.
Ignoring my qualms, I picked up the two albums and carried them over to the bed. A dark red duvet was spread out over it, which was also covered in a thin layer of dust. After a futile glance around in search for another option, I sat down on its edge with the albums in my lab. The first album was white except for the image of two entwined gold rings. With trepidation, I opened the album.