Page 29 of Desire
“Are you seeing someone?”
“Like a chick?”
Dante fought the urge to bang his head on the table. “No, I mean a therapist.”
“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”
“Do you want to talk to me more? In a more professional setting?”
“Not really.”
“You should.”
Joey shrugged. Dante wouldn’t push. But he’d make sure that this wasn’t the last time they had a conversation about this.
They sat in silence for a while, nursing their beers as the faint sound of laughter from nearby tables washed over them. The contrast between their turmoil and the carefree atmosphere around them was jarring.
“Hey,” Joey said suddenly. “I’ve been worried about Emma. How’s she really doing at that fashion resort place, Couture? She’s always been sensitive. Couture, that whole scene...” He shook his head. “I don’t want those fashion bitches tearing her down, y’know? She’s so shy and sensitive, I’m afraid they’ll eat her alive.”
“Emma’s tougher than you give her credit for. She’s not a kid anymore.”
Joey’s mouth twisted ruefully. “Maybe not. But she’s still my little sister. I’m always going to want to protect her.”
Dante bit back a sigh, the weight of his own secrets suddenly heavy on his shoulders. If Joey had any inkling of the true nature of where Emma worked, he’d worry even more. “And she’s always going to need to fight her own battles. You can’t keep stepping into the ring for her, man. It’s not fair to either of you.”
A beat of silence stretched between them, taut with unspoken fears and old wounds. Finally, Joey blew out a breath, his shoulders slumping. “I know. I know you’re right. It’s just hard to let go sometimes.”
Dante nodded, his own chest tightening with an all-too-familiar ache. The urge to shield those he loved from the world’s sharp edges, to take on their pain as his own—it was a compulsion he knew intimately. But he also knew the price of that protection. The slow erosion of self that came from living in someone else’s shadow, never quite trusted to stand on your own two feet.
He wouldn’t let that happen to Emma. Not even if it meant watching her stumble and fall. Watching her learn to pick herself back up again, scarred but stronger for it.
Even if every instinct screamed at him to catch her.
Dante leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded Joey thoughtfully. “Look, I get it. Wanting to keep her safe, wrapped up in Bubble Wrap and hidden away from anything that might hurt her. But that’s not living, that’s just existing.”
“So, what? I’m just supposed to stand back and watch her drown? Hope she figures out how to swim before she goes under?”
“No.” Dante shook his head, his voice low and intense. “You can still be there for her. You can support her when she needs it. But you need to let her fight her own fights. Let her find her own way.” He paused, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And trust me, she’s doing just fine at Couture. Better than fine. She’s kicking ass and taking names.”
Joey’s brow furrowed, a flicker of surprise and something else—pride, maybe—flashing in his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Dante nodded, his own chest swelling with a fierce, aching sort of admiration. “The clients love her, the staff respects her. She’s having a good time.”
And she was. In more ways than one. But Joey didn’t have to know about that either.
Dante’s gut clenched as unbidden images rose in his mind. Emma, flushed and laughing as she danced at Club Inferno, her body swaying to the pulsing beat. Emma, her eyes wide and darkened with curiosity as she watched a scene play out, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. Emma, kneeling at his feet, gazing up at him with a heady mix of trust and desire that made his blood run hot and his heart pound against his ribs.
He swallowed hard, shoving the memories down deep where they belonged. Where they had to stay, locked away behind iron bars of control and denial. Because Joey was right. Emma was precious, unspoiled in a way that made Dante want to simultaneously protect and possess her. To cherish her innocence, even as he longed to corrupt it. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not when she was his best friend’s little sister. Not when the risk of shattering their friendship—and her—was too high a price to pay. No matter how much he ached to take her in hand. To show her the heights of pleasure and submission she could reach, if only she would surrender to his mastery.
If only.
“The point is, Emma’s well-liked at Couture,” Dante said, trying to dispel Joey’s concerns. “She’s hardworking and dedicated, and she’s become a valued employee. I’ve seen her grow in confidence since she started working there.”
But as Joey listened, Dante couldn’t help feeling a twinge of guilt. Joey had no idea about Club Inferno. A world of sensual exploration and desire, where Emma had ventured out of her comfort zone alongside Dante himself. He knew Joey wouldn’t approve of his sister’s foray into this dark, tantalizing realm. Yet, a part of him argued, it was none of Joey’s business.
“I need to see it for myself,” Joey said.
Dante bristled, a little offended that Joey didn’t trust his word. But he also recognized something deeper driving his friend—perhaps a need to regain control after witnessing horrors during his time in the army. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”