He spoke first. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“This right here.” He waved his hand around. “This is our safe place, no blood, no war, just a man and a woman.”
“Just a man and a woman,” I repeated, lacing my fingers with him. “I like that a lot.”
“Good.” He tilted my chin toward him and brushed a soft kiss on my mouth then used his other hand to gather the silk dress and pull it up past my hips. He felt the garters first, his fingers wrapped around the material as a smug grin spread all over his gorgeous face. “White may be my new favorite color.”
I pressed my hand against his, the warmth of his palm spread all the way down my thigh. “Better than a big white dress, right?”
He lifted his head and blinked. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the chance to wear the big white dress.”
“I’d rather have the garters,” I said, my face heating with shyness. “And you. Plus, this dress is prettier than anything I’ve ever worn.”
“I’m going to have to disagree with you on that,” he got up on his knees and leaned over me, his mouth grazed mine. “The most beautiful thing you wear is your own damn skin, El.”
I met his kiss.
I slammed my mouth against his with pure hunger, pulling his shirt over his head and reaching for his jeans.
“This was supposed to be slow,” he murmured against my mouth, his tongue sliding out just enough for me to whimper for more.
I jerked down his jeans, he kicked them off.
“No boxers today,” I mused taking him in my hand.
Dante let out a groan and flipped me onto my back as he slid my dress up over my hips and then over my head, it floated to the ground.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “I should have married you weeks ago,” he watched my face, muscles flexed in his stomach and chest as he welcomed me with another open-mouthed kiss. I rocked my hips against him, he smiled against my lips.
“Not yet,” Dante moved his massive body down, he covered my belly button in another kiss then rested his head on my stomach as he moved his hands down my thighs, his palms caressing the garters like he couldn’t actually believe they existed, and then he very slowly tugged one free, pulling the nylon all the way down to my foot, then did the same with the other.
I nearly melted when his lips fused and held onto mine, his length pressed against my stomach as he grasped my knees and eased them apart only to narrow his eyes at me, like he was spending time taking it all in, like he wanted to savor the moment forever.
“Look at me, El.” He pressed my face between his hands, his eyes urgent. “Don’t look away.”
I didn’t.
I locked eyes with him.
He braced himself over me.
I sucked in a breath when he paused near my entrance.
“Are you watching?” He breathed. “Watch El, this, this is us.”
Tears welled in my eyes as he pressed into me, slowly, possessively. I wanted to close my eyes, it was too much to process, this beautiful man, moving with me, inside me, with me.
I arched, my head dipped into the pillow as a wave of pleasure built and broke between us only to build again, he slowed his movements, leaned his heavy body across mine, and kissed me with his eyes open.
I leaned into him with each kiss.
And with each arch, took him inside, held him tight. Promised forever.
His body shook, his breath hitched. “Nothing should feel this good.”
“Nothing ever has,” I admitted as a tear slid down my cheek.
He kissed it away.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on while he showed me love.
While he took me with passion.
While he forced me to see what it should have been like all along.
And what it would be like with him.
“Let go, Dante.” I kissed his mouth, the strain of his muscles was beautiful, the way he held himself protectively over me, both loving and saving at the same time, probably without him realizing it.
Men like Dante Nicolasi existed in two places.
Books.
And in my arms.
He groaned out my name.
I gasped as he thrust deeper.
“I. Am. Yours.” He gave me everything.
I took it all.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Dante
I DON’T KNOW how long I stared at her, but it was long enough for her to fall into a deep sleep while I watched her chest rise and fall. While I reminded myself that in this moment, she was in my arms.
She was breathing.
Mine.
A clusterfuck of emotions hit me all at once. Protectiveness, fear, and if I wasn’t such an asshole a part of me would admit that the last emotion I was experiencing felt different.
Foreign.
Like someone had cracked open my chest just to make sure my heart was beating and poked it with a stick.
It was painful.
It was constant.
It was horrible.
It was love.
I tightened my arm around her body, kissed her head, and imagined a world where the hours ticking by didn’t sound or feel like a death sentence.
I told myself I was exaggerating.
I told myself things were going to be fine.
But my gut told me differently.
“Dante,” El wrapped her arm around my middle and squeezed. “Don’t leave me.”
“Never,” I lied. “I’ll never leave you.” On purpose. I left that last part out and promised her anyways.
Because at least I wasn’t looking at her face.
I wondered if love would make me a liar.
Because at one point I promised her that I’d never look into her eyes and say anything untrue.
But now that things were different.
I knew — I would do it to save her.
I’d lie to her to save her.
Love didn’t make good people honest.
It made liars out of all of us.
Because when faced with hurting someone you love by telling them the truth or giving them the lie so they don’t experience darkness.
I would choose the lie every damn time.
I finally fell asleep, only to wake up hours later with the bed empty.
“El?” I called out her name and, pulled on my jeans. She wasn’t in the bathroom and no lights were on in the house.
I walked down the hall, the door to the office was open.
I pushed it further.
El was standing in front of my father’s desk.
Holding a picture.
“This is your father?” She asked as I wrapped my arms around her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder.
“That’s him.” We looked so much alike it was scary from the crystal blue eyes to the jet-black hair and strong jaw.
“He was there,” she said. “The day my parents were killed.” I stilled behind her. “Do you think that maybe… maybe I was saved for you? That in this messed up bloody world, I served my time with the devil — and God gave me an angel as penance?”
“I’m not an angel.”
“You’re right,” She turned in my arms. “You’re my savior.”
“I’m not good El, we talked about that.”
“I don’t need you to be good, Dante. Remember?”
Our foreheads touched. “Yes,” I said gruffly. “I hope to God that my father took one look at you and how you were suffering, whispered something in Frank’s ear and saved you so that one day you wouldn’t be beaten bloody by that monster — but loved completely by me.”
I tasted her tears on her lips as she kissed me and lifted her up onto the desk as she wrapped her legs around me and hung on.
“We have a desk fetish,” she said between kisses.
“I don’t mind.” I nipped her lips harder as she dropped my jeans to the floor. “I’ll never get tired of this.”
She guided me into her. “Me
either.”
We were making love on my father’s desk.
In a house with more secrets, more ghosts than I could possibly imagine, and yet, I couldn’t conjure up anything but pure joy that maybe, just maybe, El was right.
He saved her without knowing her future.
Or mine.
He did the right thing.
And because of that, a man who isn’t good, who will never be good, got to experience a taste of heaven.
I thanked him silently as I worshipped her, and was even more solidified in my decision to take my rightful place.
Not because it’s what was best for her.
Or for me.
But because it’s what Luca Nicolasi would have done.
And it was what he wanted.
A man not good, not bad, but both, wanted.
And I wanted to follow in his footsteps.
Knowing, it would kill me.
But the right thing is the right thing, and I was tired of being angry, tired of running, fucking tired of revenge.
“I love you,” I moaned against her neck.
“Then promise me you’ll be careful.” She gripped my face with my hands. “Promise me.”
“Isn’t this where you’re supposed to say you love me back?” I deflected with a thrust.
“Dante.”
“I promise.” I looked into her eyes and then our mouths collided against one another as she reached her climax, and called out.
“I love you too.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
El
I DIDN’T WANT to leave.
I knew what was waiting for us when we stepped outside that ranch house. But our time was up.
We’d spent the morning in bed.
Talking.
Laughing.
Like we were normal.
Like this situation was normal.
And every time he didn’t think I was watching him — I could see the uncertain future age him before my very eyes.
Dante may have walked in here still figuring out life.
He was walking out of the house a man.
It was in his gait.
The way he watched everything, the cow included. Like he was trying to figure out a puzzle, the puzzle of our future, the Russians, and whatever the hell was going on.
“You ready?” He held out his hand.
I didn’t want to take it.
Dante’s face softened, he kissed my head and pulled me into his arms. “We’ll be back.”
“For longer than twenty-four hours?”
“Absolutely, besides someone has to feed that damn cow,” he teased.
The cow moo’ed as if he’d heard promises of food.
We both shared a smile and then slowly walked down the porch steps to the waiting car.
Gravel crunched beneath my shoes.
Sadness hung between us like a heavy tether.
Dante opened my door for me.
“You think it was like this for your mom and dad? When she had to leave him?” I asked.
“I’m sure it was worse.” Dante looked out into the distance. “She belonged to someone else, and you, you will always belong to me.”
I sagged in relief. “I’m yours.”
He locked eyes with me. “And I’m yours.”
He kissed my fingertips one last time before going to his side of the car, getting in and shutting the door.
Silence existed around us.
A heavy silence that spoke of every single fear I refused to admit out loud.
He started the car.
My heart hammered in my chest.
We were leaving the fantasy.
Back to reality.
Back to blood, guns, war.
How did they do it? How did they still laugh? Drink? Have babies? How did they do it?
Without dying a little bit inside every single time one of their husbands left the house — knowing that they may not come back.
How did you keep yourself from resenting the very thing that gave you this life of luxury?
Because these men, they were molded by the violence, had they not been in this life, I don’t think the love would be as intense.
What made them mafia — is what made them people.
Dante inched the car forward, then gripped the steering wheel with both hands and exhaled slowly.
And then we were driving down the gravel road and suddenly back on the freeway.
We didn’t talk.
I think both of us were more consumed with what today would bring. I was just about to ask him if he was going to go to The Spot and see Andrei that night when Dante let out a curse and changed lanes.
“What’s wrong?” My heart skipped a beat.
“We’re being followed.” He tossed me his phone. “Call Nixon, now.”
I fumbled with the phone and hit Nixon’s number.
“Yes?” He answered on the first ring.
“Dante says we’re being followed.”
“Shit.” I heard rustling behind him. “Where are you guys?”
“Freeway.” My hand was going numb from gripping the iPhone so hard.
“Tell him to hit it.”
“Hit it?” I repeated out loud.
Dante slammed his foot into the accelerator and did some sort of weird move I’d only ever seen stunt devils do as he maneuvered through traffic and took the next exit.
My body slammed into the door. “Okay I think we lost them.”
“Shit!” Dante roared twisting the steering wheel to the right and going down another side street. His eyes darted from right to left, then back before he put the car in park. “Give me the phone.”
“Why are we stopping?” Panic seized my chest.
“The phone, El.”
I handed it over.
“I’ll need clean up,” was all he said to Nixon before turning off the phone and holding my face between his hands. “Get on the floor. Now.”
“But—”
“You love me. I need you to trust me. Right now, El.”
I undid my seatbelt and moved to the floor just as he popped the trunk and walked around it.
Why was he walking so slow?
I peeked over the seat.
That was in there the whole time?
He pulled out an AR-16, shoved in some ammo and held it in the air.
I scrambled for the phone just in case.
I had no weapon.
I squeezed my eyes shut as a black SUV screeched to a halt in the street in front of us then turned toward our parked car.
They didn’t stand a chance.
Dante started firing rounds so hard and fast I had to plug my ears.
Tires popped in the SUV, a guy with a gun tried to shoot at Dante but he got him in the head before he could.
A ringing sounded in my ears as a man got out of the car and started shooting at Dante.
One shot.
The guy fell.
Another followed.
Until six bodies scattered around the road.
I jumped a foot when Dante appeared at the passenger side and knocked on the window.
I opened the door.
He knelt down. “Are you okay?”
“I wasn’t getting shot at.”
He smirked. “Yeah well—”
The sound of a foot crunching against gravel hit my ears, Dante pointed the gun to the left and fired off two more rounds.
The guy, whoever he was, fell clutching his chest.
I sagged back against the seat.
“We’re almost home,” He kissed my cheek, tossed the gun back into the trunk and then grabbed his phone and called Nixon. “About ten miles out—”
I toned out his voice, the address he gave, the explanation.
This was the life I signed up for the minute I married him.
I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.
The fighting.
The guns.
The blood.
Seven bodies just… d
ead.
By my husband’s hand.
The same hand that held mine like a vice the entire way home.
I was still in shock when we pulled into the driveway.
Nixon, Sergio, Frank, Phoenix, Chase, and Tex were all waiting in front of the house, arms crossed.
Mil was nowhere to be seen.
Which just made my stomach even sicker.
Dante killed the ignition and squeezed my hand one last time. “Trust me.”
“I do.”
“Love me.” He smiled sadly at our joined hands.
“Always.”
His eyes saddened. “I’m sorry, El, for what’s coming, for what I need to do, just know. If I could I’d run away with you — do the whole starving artist thing.” He bit down on his lip. “Draw couples on the street.”
“And I’d bake.”
He choked out a laugh. “And do dishes.”
“Make everything from scratch,” I added.
“These are our cards, El.”
“I know,” I admitted sadly.
He nodded his head and slowly got out of the car. I followed. We walked hand in hand to the men.
Dante stopped in front of Frank and slowly, confidently, raised his head and spoke the words I never thought I’d hear him say. “I, Dante Nicolasi Alfero accept my role as boss to the Alfero family.”
Frank’s eyes were a mixture of sadness and joy.
Nixon’s shoulders sagged in relief.
Dante released my hand as Frank leaned forward and kissed his left cheek then his right.
And down the line Dante walked.
Until he was faced with the capo. With Tex.
Tex held out his hand to Frank.
Frank slid a ring off of his right ring finger and placed it in Tex’s palm.
It looked heavy.
It was the crest of the Alfero family.
Tex kissed it, then slid it onto Dante’s finger.
The heaviness of what just happened hit me in the chest so hard, I swayed on my feet.
I’d left married to a made man.
And returned with the rightful boss to the Alfero throne.
One ring to rule them all, never felt so right.
And wrong at the same time.
“And now,” Frank grinned. “We toast.”
I tried to muster up a smile, but I was too sick over what Dante had done what I knew he had to do.
And what that meant for our future.
Enrage (Eagle Elite #8) Page 23