Old Flame: Dante’s Story: (Morelli Family, #8)

by Mariano, Sam

“I’m so sorry, Mateo. I didn’t think… I didn’t think things were this bad. I didn’t think she would… I’m so sorry.”

  Then he looked me straight in the eye and asked, “Why did she hate me so much?”

  Words stuck in my throat. Even if I knew the answer to that question, I wouldn’t give it to him. Not in the wake of such a tragedy. Instead, I offered, “She didn’t hate you.”

  “She fucking hated me,” he stated, not as generous with the line between truth and lie as I was being. “She’s the one who chased me. She’s the one who…” He trails off, shaking his head. “I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with, but I gave her everything. I gave her fucking everything. Why wasn’t it enough?”

  Instead of offering useless words, I closed the distance between us and hugged him. After a moment, I finally managed, “This was not your fault, Mateo.”

  He laughed shortly, the sound devoid of humor. “Yes, it was.”

  “No,” I insisted, shaking my head. I felt him finally give in to the hug, felt his strong arms slide around my waist to return it. My stomach dropped immediately.

  Grieving or not, I probably should have known better than to hug him. Mateo’s touch can’t feel platonic. Even in the throes of deep grief, his arms locking around me that way felt shamefully intimate, reminiscent of a time when the embrace had been intimate. The way he drew me against his hard body and pulled me close… his masculine scent, his singeing heat.

  Comfort wasn’t the need I felt from him in that moment, and I wasn’t sure he was thinking clearly enough to register that I couldn’t be less available to offer him that kind of comfort. Mateo would never make a move on me on an ordinary day, but it was no ordinary day. I knew we were different people, and I was aware his grief may come out differently than mine would.

  I swallowed, pulling back to signal I was ready to break the hug, but his arm remained locked around me, holding me firmly in place. With his other hand, he brushed a stray lock of dark hair off my face, a surprisingly tender gesture, coming from him.

  Feeling the need to shift his focus back to Beth, I told him, “She loved you, Mateo.”

  When my words registered, his tone went cold. “She fucked someone else.”

  My eyes widened in disbelief. “What? No. No way. That’s… there’s no way.”

  He nodded, a humorless smile crossing his lips. “She did it just to hurt me. It wasn’t love or lust, it was… She wanted to hurt me more than she already was with her fucking distance. She wanted to rip my fucking heart out. I guess at least she got what she wanted.”

  That time the sting behind my eyes caused real tears to well up. They didn’t fall, but I definitely felt moisture flooding my eyes. That actually did sound like something Beth would do at her worst. She had it in her to be selfish and vindictive.

  The idea of his already damaged heart being ripped out made me want to cry, and I forgot why it was a bad idea to hug him. What else was I supposed to do when one of the strongest men I knew was hurting so much?

  I didn’t know what to say, so I just rested my head on his shoulder and held onto him, hoping it would help in ways my words couldn’t. “You didn’t deserve this,” I told him softly. “I know you loved her, but you deserve better than someone who would do this to you.”

  It was a brave thing to say at all, let alone with her death so fresh. He could have snapped at me, protective of her memory. It was fine for him to air those issues, but maybe it wasn’t okay for me to comment on them.

  I know some people feel it’s wrong to speak ill of the dead, but I’m more concerned with the living. With the people left behind to deal with the loss, to try to make sense of it all. I figured I would rather comfort a grieving man who was still alive than lie about the virtues of the dead girl who broke his heart.

  He didn’t get mad or defend her memory. He said nothing for a long time, then, still holding me, he declared with a solemn finality that broke my heart, “Maybe that’s too tall an order. Maybe I’m unlovable.”

  “You are not,” I said fiercely, pulling back to meet his gaze. “You’re sad right now so I’ll forgive that stupid thing you just said, but you are not unlovable. Beth was unhappy with herself. No matter how much stuff you lavished on her, you couldn’t change that. You couldn’t make Beth like Beth. How could she ever really love you if she couldn’t even love herself? You weren’t the problem, Mateo. You loved her hard. You tried your best to make her happy. Please don’t internalize this and take all that damage for her. Beth thought only of herself when she did this. She abandoned you, she abandoned Isabella.” I shook my head, my gaze dropping. “I’m sorry, but I think it’s awful.”

  “You wouldn’t do that, hm?” he murmured.

  I stiffened, feeling his breath on my neck, knowing the hug was too tight and I needed to pull out of it. “No, of course I wouldn’t do that to Dante,” I responded, a subtle reminder that I belonged to his brother.

  “What about me?” he asked rather casually, given the question. “Think you could have survived me?”

  I liked to think I could have, but it didn’t matter. I cared about Mateo, but my draw to him was completely different from my draw to Dante. More surface-level, more casual, definitely not made to last. It had been a raw, sexual, magnetic pull—but it wasn’t love. Mateo didn’t love me either, he just had an aching void from Beth’s death and he was looking for something—anything—to fill it until his heart mended. I didn’t know if he would ever actually try to take me from Dante just to ease a temporary ache, but I did know it wouldn’t end well for anyone if he did.

  Trying once more to ease back, I told him, “I think we shouldn’t do this right now. Or, you know, ever.” Pointedly looking down at his strong arm locked around me, I added, “I also think you might wanna ease up a little.”

  “Remember when you worked at the club? When I used to come visit you,” he mused, his gaze drifting down the curve of my shoulder, exposed in my strapless dress. His finger followed the path and my heart fluttered at the sensation of him touching me again. Inappropriate memories began to trickle back into my mind, and I searched more fervently for the escape hatch out of that moment.

  “I need to go back downstairs. Come with me. Dante is downstairs with Adrian. It’s not good for you to stay in here with…” I glanced back at the bed, but I couldn’t look at her for more than a split second. “Come on. I’ll get you a drink. Adrian will get all this cleaned up.” I tried once more to pull back, but his hold remained steely. Like his brother, there’s no getting out of his hold if he doesn’t want you to. Finally, I pushed against his chest more adamantly. “Come on, Mateo. Please.”

  “All right,” he finally said, letting his hand drift down my side and come to rest on my hip.

  Dante’s clipped tone from the doorway nearly stopped my heart. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  I gasped and sprung away from Mateo. Gracelessly, I stumbled to my feet while trying to keep my short dress covering my ass. “I was just—”

  His eyes flashing with hot anger, he didn’t wait for my answer. He stormed across the bedroom and grabbed my arm, yanking me in his direction. “Get the fuck away from him.”

  “Dante,” I objected, instinctively trying to pull my arm from his too-firm grasp.

  “You were practically in his fucking lap,” Dante snapped, glaring at me.

  “I was—” Jabbing a finger toward the bed, I blurted, “Beth… He found her… I was just trying to comfort him. It was just a—an innocent hug.”

  Dante’s lips curved up cynically and he looked from his brother to me. “Is that what he told you? That he fucking found her like this?” Looking back at Mateo, his tone harder, he said, “I guess she probably wouldn’t have pressed her tits against you if you told the truth, huh?”

  Flushing, I muttered, “I was not pressing my—”

  “He didn’t find her like this,” Dante interrupted, his eyes snapping back to me. “He killed her. Strangled the fucking life
right out of her. Still want to give him a hug?”

  Horror threatened to balloon up inside of me, but it couldn’t rise past the disbelief. “What? No…” I glanced back at Mateo for his denial, because Dante had to be wrong. Mateo might be bad, that’s inarguable, but he wouldn’t kill Beth, the woman he loved.

  Mateo’s dark gaze met mine, but he offered nothing. While I stood there looking back at him, waiting for a denial that wasn’t coming, Dante’s hand tightened around my wrist. I didn’t bother resisting as he dragged me out of his brother’s bedroom without another word.

  I expected he’d let me go once we were in the corridor outside, but he didn’t. He hauled me downstairs and right back out the front door.

  “What are—? We’re leaving already?” I asked.

  “You are,” he clipped, releasing my wrist and opening the car door. “Get in.”

  I didn’t know what to say. There were a million thoughts flying through my head, but at the top of the list, I couldn’t believe he was so angry at me for giving his grieving brother a hug. I couldn’t believe Beth was dead at all, and I certainly couldn’t believe Mateo would have killed her, even if she did cheat on him.

  I didn’t say any of that, though. Dante’s jaw was locked, alerting me that it wasn’t a good time to poke the bear. His jaw ticked when I took too long to obey. When his glare landed on me, I put my head down and slid into the passenger seat.

  Once I got my legs inside, he slammed the car door and stormed around to the driver’s side. He said nothing when he got in, said nothing until we were off the long driveway and on the road away from the house.

  “That was a stupid fucking thing you did back there,” he finally said.

  Crossing my arms defensively over my chest, I looked out the window instead of at him. “Yes, I’m so sorry I thought to comfort your grieving brother upon finding his girlfriend dead. What a thoughtless, insane thing to do.”

  “He could have hurt you,” he snapped. “He’s not in his right mind. He just fucking killed a woman, Colette.”

  “Well, I didn’t know that, did I?” I snapped right back. My heart dropped, acknowledging that, accepting it as the truth. “Are you even sure he killed her?”

  Dante’s gaze took on a crazier gleam, more guarded and angry. “What did he tell you happened?”

  “He didn’t tell me anything. I just found her like that and… I guess I assumed, and he didn’t correct me.” A moment passed and Dante didn’t say anything else. Finally, I got tired of waiting and offered a morsel of information to see if it was news to him. “He said she cheated on him.”

  “Yep,” Dante clipped, his gaze not leaving the road.

  “Is that why he killed her?” I asked, quietly.

  He looked over at me, a glint of danger in his eye. “Does he need a reason beyond that?”

  My stomach plummeted, and I turned my attention to my lap rather than look at him. I would never cheat on Dante or anyone else, but given the conclusions he had just jumped to finding me innocently offering Mateo comfort… “Is he sure she cheated?” I ask. “I mean, did she admit to it, or…?”

  Dante didn’t immediately answer. I couldn’t tell if he was considering what to tell me or just torturing me, but I felt tortured.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he finally said. “You shouldn’t even know this happened, but he got emotional and it made him fucking sloppy. We’ll get it cleaned up. You put it and her out of your mind.” Then, looking over at me still with that crazy, dangerous glint in his dark eyes, he added, “And don’t ever let me find you alone with him again.”

  ---

  After Dante dropped me off at home, he went back to his brother’s house to help Adrian clean up “the mess,” whatever that entailed. He gave me no further details and I knew better than to push, but I couldn’t believe he was denying me information after I already saw so much. It wasn’t business, it was very much a family affair. If they executed my friend for the crime of alleged infidelity, I’d like to know they were positive it actually happened. I wanted to know I wouldn’t be denied a trial and murdered because I hugged someone and my boyfriend took it the wrong way.

  Dante had always been territorial, but it had never scared me before.

  That night, I had to admit; I was a little scared.

  The rest of the evening went by at an agonizingly slow pace. I didn’t hear from Dante at all, but I assumed he was busy. When he still wasn’t home after midnight, I gave up waiting for him. I took a shower to wash the yuckiness of the day off myself, then I put on pajamas and climbed into bed. My anticipation for bedtime earlier that night crossed my mind, but it felt like a lifetime ago. I guess my dress will stay intact tonight, after all, I thought.

  Normally when Dante came home late, I didn’t wake up until he climbed into bed with me, if then. That night he was noisy when he came in, undressed, and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

  Since he was home, I didn’t even try to fall back asleep. I’d been trying to turn off my brain all night, but it hadn’t worked. The way I was feeling in the aftermath of our aborted family dinner that evening, I needed Dante to set my mind at ease. I needed him to quiet the reasonable doubts that had been echoing around in my head since he dropped me off at the house.

  My heart kicked up when I heard the shower turn off. A few minutes later the bathroom door opened, and before Dante shut the light off, I caught a glimpse of him.

  Dante is a beautiful man and his exterior more or less matches his insides—dark and hard, but exhilarating when he gets close enough. He didn’t bother to put clothes on after he got out of the shower, so my gaze traveled all over his muscular physique, then settled on the hard cock standing at attention.

  My insides melted a little at the sight of it. Dante caught my eye, seeing I was awake, but we only held eye contact for a split second before he turned off the light in the bathroom and crossed to the bed.

  My heart hammered as he approached—my side, not his. Without a word, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and hauled me off the bed. I inhaled sharply, dropping to my knees in front of him and looking up, a bit uncertain.

  “It’s not going to suck itself, is it?” he asked carefully.

  My eyes narrowed and I huffed at his insolence, but nonetheless took his angry cock in my hand and began stroking him. I eased forward, taking him inch by inch into my mouth. I worked him for a few minutes just the way he liked, but despite getting exactly what he wanted even though he was being a bit of an asshole, Dante got bored. Restless. I could feel it in him and I didn’t think it had a thing to do with sex; that was just how it was manifesting. Morelli men are good at a lot of things, but communication is rarely one of them.

  Fucking is on the list of proficiencies, so next thing I knew, Dante was lifting me up and throwing me down on the bed. I twisted, trying to get out of my pajama bottoms while he climbed on top of me and cursed at me.

  “Why are you wearing these fucking things?” he demanded, dragging them off and tossing them behind him.

  “I didn’t know when or if you were coming home tonight. I thought I’d just be sleeping.”

  He wasted no more words once my pussy was unobstructed. He fucked me hard, like he was exorcising demons of his own or punishing me for wrongdoing. After the evening we’d had, it could’ve been either. It could have been both.

  Usually I had no problem taking it when he gave it to me like that, but it was harder that night. I had images of Beth’s rumpled bed and dead body in my mind, memories of Dante’s face when he essentially told me his brother was right to murder a girlfriend they assumed was unfaithful. I needed reassurance that nothing like that could ever happen to me, that Dante loved me more than that, but I didn’t get it. Instead, I got sex that felt like a punishment, lacking in warmth and fueled by anger. Cleaning up a murder was probably nothing Dante hadn’t done before, but walking in on me with Mateo was, and I had a strong feeling that was to blame for his extra roughness.

  When
he finished with me, I was weak and boneless, sprawled on my stomach with my limbs tossed every which way. While I tried to catch my breath, Dante pulled out of my body and shifted onto the bed beside me, but he didn’t even reach out to pull me into his arms. I turned my head to face him, watching as he stared up at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts.

  “Are we okay?” I asked, tentatively.

  He turned his head and his virulent gaze met mine. “Should we not be?”

  “You’re not still upset about me hugging Mateo, are you?” I asked, more specifically. “I was only being nice.”

  His lips curved up faintly and he returned to staring at the ceiling. “Nice is overrated.”

  That was not reassuring. “Will you at least tell me more about Beth’s death?”

  “You don’t need to know about that,” he informed me. “She’s gone, that’s all you need to know.”

  I knew that was the usual way of business matters, but surely there was some exception for something so personal? “She was my friend, Dante.”

  His gaze still on the ceiling, his tone verging on bored despite the callousness of his words, he told me, “She was a self-absorbed, trifling whore with no loyalty to anyone but herself. You don’t need friends like that.”

  “She was the mother of his child. He couldn’t have just… killed her. They were family. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

  His angry gaze snapped to mine and I knew I had said the wrong thing. “Family?” He spat the word, like I was his enemy for even daring say such a thing. “You don’t get to be family if you’re not loyal to your own, Colette. That’s what family is. Beth was a gold-digging whore who didn’t give a single fuck about my family. That makes her not family, whether she squeezed out his kid or not. Lot of fucking regard she had for the poor kid, too. Trying to sink all of us,” he muttered, shaking his head, but I didn’t know what he was talking about. “Fuck Beth. She knew what she signed up for. She couldn’t fucking handle it, and that’s no one’s problem but hers. Beth is in the past now and she earned her spot there, so don’t worry about it.”