“How many?”
“Three more. Raffaele and two men I don’t recognize.
Dante pulled out his cell phone and brought it to his ear. “Enzo, get the crew ready. I have to get rid of some rats. Take only the innermost circle with you. He quickly gave Enzo the ‘address, then hung up.
I slowed the car and forced myself to smile shakily when I stopped a few steps from where Antonio was standing.
He seemed anxious and kept casting glances toward Raffaele who was getting out of the car, followed by the man from the back seat. Why had Antonio brought Raffaele to a meeting with me? Raffaele hated me. Father would see me dead rather than see me at Antonio’s side.
What if Dante was right and Antonio wanted to get rid of me too? I didn’t want to believe it. I turned off the engine.
After another glance toward Raphael, Antonio headed toward my car. I stiffened but forced my face to betray nothing.
When he had almost reached me, his eyes settled on the back seat and he stopped short. His gaze darted toward me for the briefest of moments before his lips parted, probably to shout a warning. It was too late Dante threw open the door and pointed the gun at Antonio. My stomach clenched with sadness and guilt as the first bullet struck Antonio in the stomach, the second pierced directly through his right hand, which was about to draw the gun. Antony fell to the ground, clutching his stomach, his face contorted in pain.
I clawed at the steering wheel with all my strength. Part of my brain was screaming at me to get the gun from the glove compartment for some sort of protection, but the ‘other part, the stronger part, was simply screaming. Screaming with anguish, horror and guilt.
Dante was protected by the bulletproof car door as he fired the next shot. The bullet went through the throat of the man who got out of the car behind Raffaele.
Raphael was trying to reach the safety of his own car, firing bullet after bullet in our direction but none of them managed to break through our protective windows.
As Raphael dove toward the passenger door of his car, Dante came out from behind the door that had shielded him. My heart beat wildly in my chest as he straightened his shoulders and aimed calmly. In quick succession Dante pulled the trigger, hitting Raffaele first in the left kneecap, then in the right kneecap. Raphael fell to the ground, his face contorted in pain. The man behind the wheel of the car hit the gas, not even bothering to close the passenger door as he tried to escape and save his own life.
Three other cars, Dante’s reinforcements, were already heading toward us at breakneck speed, but Dante did not let the enemy car get away. He pointed his gun at the tires and hit them one after another, causing the man to lose control of the car , which began to spin and finally collide with the abandoned warehouse. The airbags deployed, filling the car and momentarily hiding the driver from view.
I released a harsh breath, now that silence fell over the area , and kept my eyes straight ahead. If I looked back to where Antony was slowly bleeding to death, I would lose him. He should not have come to me, he should not have asked me to kill Dante. He should have known better. By now there was nothing I could do for him except hope that Dante would not prolong his agony too long. Tears blurred my vision and my knuckles were completely white and sore from gripping the steering wheel. Out of the corner of my eye I could make out Raphael. With his legs useless, he dragged himself forward with his arms, leaving a streak of blood on the dusty asphalt.
The cars with Dante’s reinforcements stopped beside me. Enzo cast me a brief glance before running toward Dante. I did not know what they were saying, but Enzo walked up to Raffaele, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and pulled him straight. Of course, Raphael’s legs gave out again, and Enzo began to drag him behind despite Raphael’s cries of pain. With Taft’s help they loaded Raffaele into the car next to mine.
Dante appeared at my window. I could not even move to open it. My fingers, my body, my whole being seemed paralyzed. After a moment, Dante opened the door. He squatted down beside me. It was an unusual enough gesture for him that my eyes rested on his face. “Valentina,” Dante said cautiously. “Are you able to go home alone or do you want one of my men to do it?”
I want you. I need you now more than ever. “No, I’m fine.
I can drive.”
Dante peered at me. His hair was still perfectly combed back, his suit as impeccable as ever. Nothing to indicate that he had just killed one man and wounded three others. “I’ll send Taft with you,” he said firmly. “It will be a while before we get home.” He didn’t need to say anything else. I didn’t want to hear anything else. I simply nodded. Dante stood up and motioned Taft to approach, who slid into the passenger seat without a word.
He gave me a quick glance. It probably looked like I was on the verge of losing him. And that was exactly how I felt.
Dante hesitated before closing the door and took a few steps back from the car. As if in a trance, I pressed my foot on the accelerator. I didn’t look back; I couldn’t. I had said goodbye to Antonio this afternoon. No, actually I had said hello to him a long time ago.
Taft kept looking in my direction. I was driving too slowly, but he didn’t comment. My throat was tight and I felt sick, not the sickness I had felt during my pregnancy.
This was something that seemed to take over my whole body, but I fought it. I needed to keep up appearances.
Dante was a proud, strong man, and I was his wife. I would not throw up in front of one of his men. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to reach the manor, but it seemed like an eternity.
When I finally parked the car in the garage, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I opened the door and got out. As I made my way to the door leading into the house, my legs gave out. Strong hands grabbed me under my armpits and kept me from hitting the floor hard.
Driven by sheer determination, I forced my legs to stop shaking. “Are you okay?” asked Taft. “Should I call the boss?”
“No,” I said quickly. “He has to take care of business.” Antonio’s. A new wave of unease washed over me. I stepped forward, freeing myself from Taft’s grip, my head held high and my back stiff. Without breathing, I entered the house and, clinging to the railing in a death grip, dragged myself upstairs. I stumbled into the master bedroom and went straight to the bathroom where I emptied my stomach into the toilet. My abdomen contracted painfully and for a moment I was frozen with fear, but then the feeling disappeared.
I got up and slowly, trembling, began to undress, leaving my clothes strewn on the floor. I opened the shower and stood under the stream of hot water, closing my eyes and finally letting the sobs ravage my body. I leaned against the shower stall and slowly slid down until I sat on the cold marble floor. I squeezed my legs tightly against my chest and cried. I cried for Antonio, for the boy I had grown up with , for the man I had once loved, for someone for whom I had betrayed the Outfit once before. But today I had made a decision and it had been against Antonio. I knew what it would mean for him, I knew I would sign his death warrant the moment I had told Dante about the plan. Yet I had not even hesitated. I had chosen Dante and would choose him again. He was my husband, he was the father of my unborn child, he was the man I loved even though he had never given me a reason to. I buried my face against my legs, aching, aching so much that I could not bear it. Now there was blood on my hands. I cried even harder.
*** That’s how Dante found me. I wasn’t sure how long it had been, how long he had been gone. I was shaking, my skin wrinkled and red from the hot water. Dante stood in the doorway for a couple of moments, watching me, before walking toward the shower. He was not wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the last time I had seen him. He had changed.
I had to change. My throat closed up. I stared at him, shaking and crying silently. He stepped into the shower, still fully dressed, and turned off the water. His cold blue eyes rested on me as I cowered on the floor. There was concern and sympathy, riddled with something raw and dark on his face. I didn’t move, I couldn’t.
He leaned down, slid his arms under me and straightened slowly with me pressed against his chest, soaking his expensive shirt. My fingers clawed at his shoulders almost desperately. He laid me down carefully, but did not let go. I wasn’t sure I could have held on alone. He grabbed a towel and began to dry me unhurriedly, following his hands with his eyes as they rubbed the soft fabric over my skin. I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, soaking in his familiar scent, now mixed with gunpowder and blood. Blood. Sweet and metallic. Blood, so much blood.
“Oh God,” I gasped, gasped but could not breathe. Dante took me in his arms again and carried me to the bedroom where he laid me on our bed. He took off his shoes and lay down beside me, cradling my face until my frantic gaze rested on his intense eyes. “Shh, Val.
All right.”
But it wasn’t, it couldn’t be. “I killed him.” I closed my eyes against the images created by my mind, but they were even more colorful against the black canvas of my closed eyelids. “I killed him,” I repeated over and over again until I wasn’t sure if the words were still coming from my lips or if it was an echo in my ears.
“Val,” Dante said firmly, clasping his fingers over my face.
“Look at me.”
I opened my eyes and stared at my husband’s handsome face. Wonderfully cold. Not an ounce of regret.
“You did what was right.”
Did I? Sometimes it was hard to see the line between right and wrong because of all the death and blood that covered the paths of the crowd.
“You did what you had to do to protect me.” His fingers stroked my chin. “I will never forget that. Never.”
“I told you you could trust me,” I whispered.
“I know, and I do.”
I wanted to believe him, but he still hadn’t said anything about our son, still hadn’t admitted that he was his, that he was wrong to accuse me of betrayal. Too proud, too stubborn. He must have known all along that he was wrong, because if he ever really thought I had betrayed him he would have moved heaven and earth to find the man who had touched me. I didn’t want to think about it, but as my mind drifted away from one painful topic, it attached itself to the next.
“Did you get the names of the other traitors?”
Dante nodded darkly. “YES. I’m pretty sure. Enzo and a few others are dealing with the less important rats right now.”
“What-what did you do to Antony?” I knew I shouldn’t have asked. It wouldn’t make things better. It would only have added fuel to the fire that was my fault.
Dante shook his head. “He’s dead, Val.”
“I know, but what did you do to him?”
“If it’s any consolation, I focused my attention on Raphael. Antony had a quicker death than any other traitor.
Tears pooled in my eyes. “Thank you.” What a twisted world we lived in, so I thanked my husband for killing my first husband quickly, for minimizing torture. A world of blood and death. A world in which our son would be born and raised, and perhaps one day, if he were a boy, he would follow in Dante’s footsteps and kill and torture others to stay in power. An endless circle of blood and death.
Dante peered into my eyes. “Val, you’re worrying me.”
I raised my head and pressed my glossy lips against Dante’s. He didn’t pull back, just looked at me with furrowed brows. I pulled back an inch or two, entwining my fingers in his hair and my eyes pleading. “Please,” I said quietly. “Make love to me. Just today. I know you don’t love me. Just pretend, just for tonight. Hold me in your arms for once.”
Tumultuous was not the right word to describe the look in Dante’s eyes, but it was the only thing I could think of. “God, Val.” He let out a harsh breath, then pressed his lips to mine, opening them and tasting me, savoring my tears, my pain, and somehow taking some away with each brush of his mouth. His hand moved over my collarbone, over my arm, over my hip, over my side, like the whisper of a touch, barely there and yet it was the only thing I was aware of. He sat down and quickly unbuttoned his shirt before throwing it to the floor without thinking, and then his bare chest was pressed against me, so warm and solid.
He left cotton-soft kisses on my temple, forehead and cheek before finding my lips again for a kiss that took my breath away . His hand discovered my breast as if for the first time, his fingertips laying feather-light touches on my skin, claiming me without the usual burning possessiveness. I moaned against his mouth as his fingers traveled down my body to slip between my legs. He pushed them away and then lightly explored my folds, gentle and unhurried. I whimpered softly but Dante silenced me with another kiss before rubbing my neck and collarbone. When his lips finally closed around my nipple, I was already panting. Dante slipped first one, then two fingers into me before getting off the bed and standing up. He quickly washed his remaining clothes, and then he was on the bed, gloriously naked and hard. He settled between my legs and lowered himself onto his elbows, molding our bodies together as one. He did not enter me.
Instead, his hand caressed my leg and lifted it until it curled over his back. His erection pressed against the inside of my thigh but Dante did not seem to be in a hurry. He kissed me, his eyes dark and searching as he watched me. He lightly caressed my breast, making me wish he would finally claim me.
He must have seen the need on my face because he stepped between us and aligned his erection with my entrance. His demand did not come in a quick, hard move as it often had in the past. It was a slow conquest and my walls yielded to him as always. I was breathless when he was buried completely inside me. Dante cradled the back of my head, his forearms rested on either side of my face, and then he began to move inside me. Time seemed to stand still as our bodies slid against each other. Was this about making love?
I wrapped my arms around Dante, trying to pull him even closer. Dante did not resist. He brought his face closer to mine, kissed my lips, then my cheeks until his mouth brushed my ear. “I should have made love to you first,” he said quietly.
And I cried in response. I wasn’t sure if this was part of his pretense, and I didn’t care. At that moment it felt real, and that was all that mattered to me. When Dante trembled from his release, he took me with him, and even later, when he began to soften inside me, he did not pull back.
He lay on top of me, still buried in me, his breath brushing against my cheek. I knew that many women in our world every day preferred a good lie to the hard truth, and for the first time, I understood that. After all that had happened today, I allowed myself that weakness. Tomorrow would be the time to face reality.