Page 12 of Damaged & Deadly
Enzo rewards me with a grateful smile. “That’s all I’m asking for.”
Chapter 5
My insides feel like a washing machine as I smooth my hands over the low-cut black dress I found in Dante’s… my closet. It’s not dissimilar to the last one I wore when meeting his father. The silky-soft material cuts a low V between my breasts and cinches tight at my waist, clinging to my ass and thighs before stopping a couple of inches above my knee. There’s a small split up my left thigh, but thankfully it’s not high enough to show off the thigh strap I have hidden underneath. I also have my Glock 43 tucked in the bottom of my clutch, and I’ve finished the outfit off with a pair of black heels that have these nifty little spikes sticking out of the heel and platform. Worst case scenario, I imagine they could do some damage if, for some reason, I can’t get to my knife or gun.
You’ve got this. Don’t let that psychopath get to you. Don’t show him any emotion, and at the first opportunity, cut him down and get Luc out of there.
I don’t care what Dante and Enzo have planned, there’s no way I’m leaving Luc there another day. Squaring my shoulders, I stare into my steely gaze in the mirror before turning away and striding out of the room. Nerves and determination war within me as I make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen, where I can hear both men talking in low voices.
I pause in the doorway, catching the tail end of Dante’s sentence. “… need to retaliate soon.” I tense. In the aftermath of everything, I’d completely forgotten they were making plans to attack the Rejects. Of course, if everything had gone to plan the other day, none of this would be an issue. Now I need to figure out how to stop them from killing the two men I love and the one gang in Black Creek that doesn’t deserve to be obliterated.
“Antonio has a team in place, scoping out their clubhouse, and he’s putting together a plan of attack as we speak.”
“Good. I want to meet with him, then we’ll make our move.”
Fuck. My mind whirs as I store away the information. At best, I have a few days before they attack the Rejects. That doesn’t give me much time.
Schooling my expression, I step over the threshold into the kitchen, finding the two of them sitting on opposite sofas. They’re relaxed back against the cushions, looking at ease as though they were simply discussing the weather and not the murder of the two men I love and the gang I’ve come to view as my home.
Both men look up, heat burning in their eyes. It baffles me how I can be so drawn to them yet want to slit their throats for what they were just discussing.
Dante pushes out of his seat and moves toward me. He doesn’t stop until the toes of his polished shoes bump against mine, and his hand reaches up so he can twist a loose curl between his fingers. I found a curling wand earlier in one of the drawers of my new wardrobe. I’ve never had one before and needing to keep myself busy until we were ready to leave, I decided to give it a go. So my long, red hair drapes over my shoulders and down my back in large ringlets.
“You look stunning,mia vita.”
I blush despite myself, and when I stare into his russet-brown eyes, I notice a thin, superficial layer has been stripped away. I can’t pinpoint what I read in them—and based on my conversation with Enzo earlier, I’m guessing that’s because Dante’s not even sure what he’s feeling. However, I googled those words earlier, and apparently they meanmy life. I can’t decide if that term of endearment is sweet or terrifying. If they meantmy loveor something like that, I could probably wave it away, butmy lifefeels so much more… permanent. More all-encompassing, like I’m the sole reason for his existence, the only thing keeping him alive. Thinking back to my conversation with Enzo earlier, about how I kickstarted his ability to feel, it’s highly possible Dante may view me as the reason hefeelsalive. But,fuckis that unnerving. To be the only reason someonefeels… that’s a considerable weight to bear. I can only speak for myself, but I know it’s my love for Luc all these years that stopped me from descending into the cold, detached persona of the Reaper. My love for him kept me sane, kept me rational. Luc made me feel human. Is that what I am to Dante? His Luc?
Lowering my gaze, I take a step back, needing both physical and emotional distance from him as I try to wrap my head around the gravity of the realization I just came to. The strand of hair he was playing with slips through his fingers, and slowly, he lowers his hand to his side.
Reinforcing my shield of armor, I ensure any and all soft emotions are well secured behind my steel-reinforced walls before I again meet his gaze. I’m met with the same closed-off expression, which is fine. There’s no room for emotions tonight. I need Dante and Enzo to be on their game if I’m going to get my brother back. Pushing my shoulders back, I demand, “What’s the plan for tonight?”
His eyes linger on me for a moment before he gives a subtle nod and steps back, moving to rejoin Enzo in the living area. Reclaiming his spot on the sofa opposite him, he throws his arm over the back of it in an open invitation. Instead of moving though, I end up darting my gaze back and forth between them. It’s like fucking eenie-meenie-miny-mo. Why are there no armchairs? And I’m going to look insane if I drag a dining room chair over here.
Chewing on my bottom lip, my eyes land on Enzo. The fucking shit-stirrer just smirks, seeing my predicament but offering no help whatsoever. Narrowing my gaze on him, silently sayingthanks for nothing, asshole,I take a step toward Dante’s sofa. Slowly, I lower my ass onto the couch as far away from him as possible. Of course, he’s tall, so he’s got a large wingspan, meaning his hand still touches my hair, and he wraps a strand around his finger, mindlessly playing with it and seemingly unaware of my rigid posture.
“We can’t do anything until we find out my father’s plan,” he states, still twisting my hair between his fingers. “I can’t figure out what he’s after. If it was blackmail, he wouldn’t use your brother. Trust me. He’s got enough leverage as it is.” That last sentence is said in a bitter tone, and he and Enzo share a look I can’t decipher.
“Then why bring him to the church? It sure felt like a threat to me.”
Enzo shrugs, drawing my attention his way. “To fuck with you?” He phrases it as a question, clearly guessing. “Giovanni is excellent at mental manipulation. He can worm his way so deep into your head that you’ll never get him out.” I shiver just at the thought of that. Is that what he’s done to Dante? Apparently so. “He knows he’s got Dante and I firmly under his control, but you're an outlier he can’t afford. He doesn't know how you might upset the balance he’s maintained. Dante’s already shown his cards by agreeing to give up having a say in his Consigliere for you.” He pauses, his eyes drilling into me. Every word out of his mouth has my heart beating faster with fear. “It could be that he’s using Luc to control you. To get you under his thumb and guarantee you won’t get in the way of his plans.”
The air around me suddenly feels dense and thick, and my lungs constrict with the lack of oxygen. My voice sounds choked when I manage to squeeze out, “Does he? Have you under his control?” We’ve never had this conversation before. We’ve never needed to. But now that my brother is stuck in the thick of this, Ineedto know where the two men beside me—the two men I have grown undeniably attached to—fall. Will they side with me or Giovanni? I know enough of Enzo’s past and have seen the hostility in his eyes, and heard it in his voice, to be quietly confident that he would pick me. Or, at the very least, he won’t pick Giovanni. However, Dante’s a conundrum I still haven’t figured out.
Enzo’s gaze flickers to Dante, giving me his answer. He’s team Dante. He will probably try to persuade Dante otherwise if he chooses Giovanni, but regardless, he’ll side with Dante. I can respect that level of loyalty, even if the thought of being on the wrong side of the two of them does have anxiety driving into me like icicles through my chest.
Slowly. Ever so slowly, I turn to face Dante, terrified of what I’ll see in his eyes. I’m almost scared to look, and when I’m finally facing him, my eyes remain glued to the black knot of his tie. For the life of me, I can’t seem to get them to go any higher. I can feel the pulse at the base of my neck thumping a wild tune that matches the erratic thudding of my heart. I sit like that for so long Dante has to reach out, and with a firm hold on my chin, he physically lifts my head until I’m forced to meet his steely brown gaze.
The potency of what I find staring back at me slams into my chest, making me gasp. Flashes of the way he looked at me in the church drift to the forefront of my mind. I was so out of it that day, consumed with fear over Luc’s sudden and unexpected appearance, that I didn’t take anything else in. Only now I can picture him clearly, standing in front of me in his three-piece suit, black tie, and polished shoes.
Just like on that day, there’s the similar flare of possession making his eyes appear darker, more black with veins of red glowing through them, though for the first time, I see that possession for what it is. Not a desire to control or smother me, but simply an intense need tohaveme. Enzo’s words from earlier finally click. Dante doesn’t even understand what he’s feeling. In basic caveman terms—me likey, me want. He sees something he likes, someone he feels a connection with and is holding on to it with both hands.
He still holds my chin captive between his thumb and index finger while he strokes along my jawline. “I vowed to protect you,mia vita.Even against my father.” I somehow don’t think that was specifically mentioned in our wedding vows, but the ferocity in his voice begs no argument. Even if it wasn’t in our vows, it’s a promise he’s made to himself. “My father thinks he controls me, and until recently, it has suited my agenda to let him continue believing that.” He gently squeezes my chin, and I intuitively know what he says next is important. “But you are my wife. My life is beholden only to you. I will only ever do what is inyourbest interests.” I can’t do anything but fall into his dark brown depths while he shreds my heart into pieces and stitches them back together with his name embedded in the lining. “Your brother is important to you, which means he’s important to me. Whatever it is my father wants, I won’t let him hurt your brother.”
I believe him. It would be impossible not to after that speech, especially with the impassioned way he’s looking at me. My lips part before I close them again, not knowing how to respond. Nothing I can think of even comes close to that declaration. Instead, I end up giving a feeble nod, and when Dante lets go of me, I side-eye Enzo. The asshole is just sitting on the opposite sofa with his arms folded across his chest, cocking an eyebrow at me, clearly saying,I told you so.
“We need to go,” Dante states, checking the time on his large, expensive-looking watch before getting to his feet. Holding out a hand, he helps me up before he moves to grab his gun that had been sitting on the breakfast bar. Enzo follows, the two of them tucking their weapons into the back of their suit pants.
When he’s done, Dante rakes his eyes over me. “You should have a weapon too. The gun you wore yesterday, do you know how to use it?”