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

by Mariano, Sam

  “You’re not worth it, you fucking scumbag,” Sal tells me, shaking his head and taking a step back.

  “Not worth skinning a few knuckles?” I question. “Funny, I think you’re worth it.”

  “No, Dante. You’re not worth upsetting your sister,” he says, shaking his head like he’s disgusted I didn’t know what he meant.

  Francesca hurries back to his side, offering him a drink and keeping one for herself. Her gaze jumps from him to me. We exchange pointless greetings, but she’s the last person I want to talk to right now, so I make an excuse about going to find Colette and go to find more alcohol instead.

  Doesn’t much matter at this point that the cater waiters are serving sub-par shit. I take two to make up the difference in quality.

  Eventually, Colette finds me sitting in a wing chair, alone in a corner.

  “Hey, you,” she says softly, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder.

  I lean my head back against the chair and look over at her. “Hey, yourself.”

  Grimacing, she gingerly sits on the edge of the chair. “You want me to get you some water?”

  “I’d rather you got the keys so we can get the fuck out of here,” I tell her.

  “We can’t leave yet,” she says apologetically. “They’re reading the will after everyone leaves, the heirs have to stay for it.”

  “Fuck the will,” I mutter.

  “It’s just a little longer,” she assures me. For a few seconds, she looks at my thighs as if debating, then she slides off the arm of the chair and into my lap.

  That’s more fucking like it. I rest my hands on her hips and look up into her face.

  She secures her arms around my neck and leans in close. I think she’s going to kiss my neck, but instead she whispers, “I have to ask you something.”

  “What’s that?” I murmur back.

  She keeps her tone low to keep the cameras from catching what she says, but I can hear the anxiety in her voice. “Are you attracted to Mia?”

  Just the sound of her name brings rage roaring through my veins. “Fuck that little cunt. No, I’m not fucking attracted to her. Why would you ask a stupid thing like that?”

  “I saw you together in the hall. You were in the bathroom together. Why were you locked in the bathroom with her?”

  “I don’t fucking remember,” I mutter, grabbing Colette around the back of the neck and pulling her closer so I can kiss her neck. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore.”

  “I just… I’m obviously not comfortable with you sneaking off to be alone with other women.”

  “I wasn’t sneaking off to—”

  Colette brings her hand up to cover my mouth and she shakes my head. “We don’t have to talk about it. You say you’re not into her, I believe you. You say it won’t happen again, I believe you. But don’t lie to me, because if you start doing that, I can’t believe you anymore.”

  I hold her gaze for a moment. Because I’m a little drunk, it takes longer than it should to recognize the hurt in her eyes. That pierces the fog and I grab her hand, bringing it to my mouth and kissing her knuckles in the tenderest of pledges. “Colette, there’s no one for me but you. I said that and I meant it. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a fucking liar.”

  Her gaze is a little less guarded now. “I know you’re not.”

  “It wasn’t anything like you’re thinking,” I assure her.

  “I feel… I feel like there’s a vibe between you two,” she tells me, clearly uncomfortable saying it.

  “There is a vibe,” I tell her. Just as her face starts to fall, I add, “It’s hatred. That bitch controls my fucking brother and I feel a passionate loathing toward her because of it; I’m not surprised you can feel it.”

  Colette sighs with relief, then melts against me. “That makes me feel better.”

  I shake my head, letting my hand come to rest at the small of her back. “You never have to worry about me with other women, Colette. You know that. I might have to deal with women sometimes when it comes to business, but there’s only one I want, only one I give a fuck about, and that’s you. Never doubt that.”

  Snuggling into the curve of my neck, she starts kissing me. Between kisses, she tells me quietly, “I think I got a taste of how you felt about Declan today.”

  “No, you didn’t,” I disagree. “When I felt that way about you and Declan, it was real. I was never fucking with Mia, that was all in your head. I had damn good reason to feel like a fucking maniac.”

  “I know,” she assures me, pulling back to meet my gaze. “And I’m so sorry. I never should have left. Not just because then he’d be alive, I just…” She looks away, swallows, then looks back at me. “I shouldn’t have left you when things got hard. I should have trusted you. I should have waited and made you talk to me when the time was right and everything wasn’t so fresh. I shouldn’t have left.”

  How fucking long have I been waiting to hear those words? They wash over my soul, pulling away the pain and anger from today. “Yeah?” I ask, a bit leadingly. “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re my man and I love you,” she answers sweetly, kissing each corner of my mouth. “And you’re not supposed to hurt your man.”

  The first real smile of the day spreads across my face. I grab the back of her neck again, yank her close, and kiss her hard on the mouth. “Damn right, you’re not.”

  32

  Colette

  The real world doesn’t find me as quickly as Dante feared it might, but eventually, the inevitable happens and my past does come knocking at my door.

  It’s a slow day at the flower shop and I’m the only one up front. The bell above the door jingles, letting me know I have a customer. My heart sinks when I recognize Declan’s brother, Russ, walking toward me.

  I don’t know exactly what to say. He doesn’t look friendly, but he doesn’t look aggressive, either. I guess he still looks kind of sad. I guess that’s reasonable. The people who truly loved Declan will be sad for a lot longer.

  Guilt wraps itself around me like a vine, but I snip my way out of its suffocating grasp and stand tall behind the counter.

  I’m still immensely regretful for what Dante did to Declan, but nothing I say or do now can fix it. If I had realized Dante would take it that far, I would have stopped it, but I didn’t. No measure of miserable guilt or wretched unhappiness now will resurrect him, and I choose to believe Declan would want me to be happy. I may have been the reason he died, but it’s not like I wanted it. I did care for Declan, but now I realize I never actually loved him. And Declan cared for me, but he still dismissed my rational fears about Dante coming back for me and told me I had anxiety issues.

  I would’ve been just as miserable—and just as much to blame—if Declan had died saving me, pushing me out of the way of a train or a car that I didn’t see coming. But he would have done it. Even knowing the risk to himself, Declan would have tried to save me—in fact, he did, it’s just that the unstoppable force he tried to rescue me from was Dante, and he failed.

  At the end of the day, I did warn Declan about Dante being dangerous, and he chose to take the risk of being with me anyway. I didn’t make him. He’s the one who pursued me, he’s the one who stayed even after finding out I had belonged to Dante Morelli before he met me. Declan knows the players in Chicago’s underworld; he should have known once something belongs to Dante Morelli, it always belongs to him.

  Alec was right; I can’t take all of that blame onto my shoulders anymore. It was my responsibility to make Declan aware of the risk, but it wasn’t my responsibility to live my whole life cloistered away, not even living, to make sure Dante didn’t hurt anyone.

  It wasn’t easy to get to this place mentally, but this is where I had to get if I wanted to be with Dante. Realizing he might want someone other than me made me see that I still do, I always will, and it’s not worth risking what I have with him to protect the memory of someone who is gone.

  I haven’t become h
eartless, I’ve just had to be more selective about who gets space there, and Declan and Dante can’t both reside in the same space.

  “Hi,” I say, since Russ hasn’t spoken.

  “Colette,” he acknowledges, his gaze falling automatically to my empty ring finger. Bringing his gaze back to my face, he says, “You look well.”

  “I am, yeah,” I say awkwardly, shifting my weight, unsure where to look. Just because I’m in a different headspace now is no reason to be callous. I’m not actively mourning his brother anymore, but it would probably be easier for Russ to swallow if he thought I was. “As well as can be expected, anyway.”

  His lips curve upward, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Seems like you’re really suffering from the loss.” He barely misses a beat, definitely doesn’t give me time to respond. “Mom got the package you dropped off on her doorstep. Thought it was a little cold. You could’ve at least called; she would’ve made sure she was home to receive you.”

  “I just…” I trail off, then go with the simple truth. “I didn’t know what to say to her.”

  He presses his lips together and nods. “I bet. If I got someone killed, I wouldn’t know what to say to his mother, either.”

  My blood runs cold and my gaze jumps to his. “What are you talking about?”

  “I never liked you, you know,” he states, the gloves apparently coming off now that his brother’s dead. “I told Declan not to get involved with you. You were filthy, but he thought you were perfect.”

  More than a little offended, I say, “Excuse me? Who do you think you are, coming into my flower shop, saying this shit to me?”

  “I think I’m the one who lost a brother, and you’re the one already warming the bed of your mobster ex-boyfriend,” he shoots back. “Didn’t take you very fucking long to grieve, did it, Colette? Did you care about my brother at all?”

  Panic hasn’t hit me in a while, but as I stand here across from this man, I can feel it starting to claw its way along my insides. “You need to leave, Russ.”

  “Or what? You’ll sic your boyfriend on me?”

  “Maybe,” I snap, my eyes flashing. “Maybe I fucking will. Get out of my goddamn shop!”

  “I thought you’d break his heart, hell, maybe even ruin his life, but I didn’t think you’d get him killed,” he states, shaking his head as he backs toward the door. “You’re an evil bitch, I hope you know that.”

  “Get out!”

  ---

  I’m calm by the time I close up shop and head home, but I still feel the inky remnants of dread clinging to me until I pull into the driveway. With each step toward the door, I’m filled with more peace, my sense of safety affirmed. Dante shouldn’t be home yet, but I saw his car in the garage, so I know as soon as I’m through the door, he’ll be there to melt away the stress of the day.

  I hang my keys on the hook, drop my purse on the small table nearby, and kick the heels off my aching feet. Contentment washes over me as I pad through the house, then my heart practically explodes, affection running out of my chest cavity and coating all of my insides at the sight before me on the couch.

  Dante is lying on the couch with the kitten he bought me sleeping soundly on his chest. Daisy is curled in a tiny ball with her little eyes closed while Dante absently runs his massive hand along her tiny back. She’s so fragile and he’s so strong, but his touch is so gentle when he pets her, it melts my insides.

  My big brute can be tender when he needs to be.

  With a warm smile I can’t suppress all over my face, I walk over to the couch and kneel down in front of them since he’s taking up the whole thing. If he moves, he’ll wake Daisy, and I don’t know how long she’s been asleep.

  “What are you doing home already?” I ask him quietly.

  Less concerned about Daisy’s naptime and more concerned about my comfort, Dante scoops her up in one hand and sits up to make room for me on the couch beside him. “Decided to beg off early,” he tells me. “Luca’s house is finally empty, so this is his last night there. Mateo told me if I want to see him one last time, I needed to go early.”

  Taking a seat beside him and curling my legs up behind me, I ask, “Did you?”

  Dante shakes his head no, looking down at Daisy as she yawns and climbs onto his chest. “No. Wouldn’t feel right, knowing what I know and not telling him.”

  Sighing, I pull on his shoulder to move him, then climb on my knees behind him so I can give him a back rub. “I’m sorry, baby. I know how it feels to lose a friend. I can’t imagine knowing about it beforehand and not being able to stop it.”

  “After all the good work Luca has done for us, all the loyalty he’s shown this family, he doesn’t fucking deserve this.”

  I hold my tongue, kneading his tense muscles. While Dante and I are very happy together, we’re obviously very different people. Consequently, we don’t always agree on everything.

  He and I definitely don’t agree about this. On this, I’m on Mateo’s side. I think Luca Delmonico is the kind of monster that desperately needs to be vanquished, and I’m glad Mateo’s going to kill him. There would be no benefit in saying that to Dante though, so instead I nod my head, massage his shoulders, and lend my support. “I know. It’s hard.”

  “He’s a bastard,” he states.

  “He’s your brother,” I remind him, gently. “I know it won’t be easy to get past this, but you will in time. You have to. Carrying resentment over things you can’t change will only hurt you, not him.”

  “When did you become the expert?” he murmurs.

  “When the love of my life murdered my fiancé and I had to get over it,” I offer back.

  “Stupid fucking Declan,” he mutters. “I put out the hit, but Luca was actually the one who killed him.”

  All the more reason I feel no remorse over the monster’s death. “Life goes on, that’s the point. I know Luca was important to you while I was gone, but I don’t think you were as important to him, and now that I’m back home… we can fill any empty spaces we find in each other. We don’t need other people so much anymore.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” he tells me, catching my hand on his shoulder and dragging it in toward his chest. As soon as Daisy catches sight of my hand, she climbs over and flops on her back, grabbing my finger between her little paws and playfully nipping me with her pointy kitten teeth.

  I grin, reaching over his shoulder with my other hand and scooping her up. I bring her against my chest and lean back into the couch cushion. “Hello, little girl. Did you miss me while I was at work? I sure missed you.”

  She meows at me and closes her eyes, rubbing the top of her head against my hand.

  “Did Daddy feed you?” I ask her, as if she can answer me.

  “Sonja took care of it before I got here,” he answers.

  I screw my nose up and make a face at Daisy. “Did mean old Sonja feed you yummy kitty food?”

  Dante cracks a smile and flicks a gaze toward the kitchen. “Better be quiet or she’ll hear you.”

  No longer talking in my sweet kitten mom voice, I tell him, “Let her hear me. I’ve had it up to here with people giving me shit today. I don’t care who doesn’t like me anymore. Fuck ‘em all.”

  Scowling, Dante asks, “Who else doesn’t like you?”

  I’ve been dreading telling him all day, but it would be foolish not to. “Declan’s brother paid me a visit today.”

  Dante sits up a little straighter, more alert. “What did he have to say?”

  I tease Daisy with my finger as I tell him, “He knows we’re back together. I’m not sure how. He wasn’t there for long. He started hurling insults and I kicked him out.”

  “Hurling insults?” he asks, sharply. “You should’ve called me.”

  “I handled it myself. He didn’t put up a fight or anything. Anyway, it pissed me off, but he was just venting. I get it, but it’s still damned aggravating when someone’s being rude to you. I didn’t handle it very compas
sionately, I told him to leave and he asked if I’d sic my boyfriend on him if I didn’t. I might have shouted back ‘maybe’ but I don’t think he took me seriously.”

  Dante harrumphs and rolls his eyes. “Boyfriend. Sounds so insignificant.”

  “Next time I’ll make sure to tell my ex-fiancé’s grieving brother he better address you as my man, not my boyfriend like we’re in high school.”

  “Damn right,” he mutters, reaching over and rubbing Daisy’s head with the tip of his index finger. “Come here, you.”

  I let him take her, then watch as he rises off the couch. “Where are you going?”

  “She’s gonna help me find something. Why don’t you go ask Sonja how much longer on dinner? Grab us some drinks while you’re in there.”

  I sigh as he takes my kitty and disappears into the other room. I don’t feel like dealing with Sonja, but maybe she’ll sense it on me and be cool. I push up off the couch and head to the kitchen. She’s busy wiping down the counter when I come in. She looks at my arms for the kitten, since more often than not that’s where she is. Apparently disappointed that it’s only me, she turns back to wiping down the counter.

  “How much longer until dinner’s done, Sonja?”

  “Twenty minutes or so.” She looks back over her shoulder at me as I grab a wine bottle and open a drawer to dig out the corkscrew. “You’ll ruin your appetite.”

  “I can manage my own appetite, thank you,” I assure her, feeling a little rebellious as I pop it off and grab two wine glasses from the cupboard above me. I pour some of the white wine into a glass for Dante while she mutters under her breath. On second thought, I put the cap back on and go to the fridge, grabbing an unopened bottle of water and pouring that into my glass instead. “There? Feel better.”