Page 102 of Ruthless Vows
Dante’s eyes search mine like I’ll be able to give him answers, like I’ll suddenly find the right words to say to snap myself out of this torture. Those amber-colored eyes beg mine to give him something…anything.
“I do think therapy is helping. I haven’t gone…there…yet.”
Dante takes my hands in his and squeezes.
“But each time I go, I get more comfortable with her. And she isn’t rushing me or trying tofixme. You know?”
He nods. “You aren’t broken, angel. You were taken advantage of by a man who was so sick and twisted that nothing would’ve stopped him. Not the right words or the right move. Not different clothes or messier hair. He wanted what wasn’t his to take. And he had no right. And I am so fucking sorry, Giana. I will spend the rest of my life—”
“You do not owe me an apology. Please. Stop trying to take accountability for how other people have wronged me.”
He could use the therapy too. But he’s a made man. He’s too strong, too this, too that. I’ve tried convincing him, but I haven’t got very far yet.
Dante hangs his head, nodding. I know he doesn’t believe my words, but just as he’s going to try to spend the rest of his life apologizing, I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure he knows I don’t blame him. Not for one second.
“I think I like getting to know you like this, though. Maybe we’re both damaged. Wounded. Scarred. But there’s something incredibly intimate and sexy about getting to know your future wife in such a different way.” He smiles, and my stomach spins—in a good way.
In thebutterfliesway.
In the past three months, we’ve explored every inch of our bodies, but not in a sexual way. In a way that has almost given us a new look about each other. We’ve also spent nights just cuddled up together as he stroked my cheek or held me as my sobs got the best of me. As the memories came flooding back and as those memories stirred up even older memories.
Memories of Gabriel Jr. Of what he did to me. Of my finger on the trigger ending his life.
Memories of Roberto Santiago.
“I know you miss fucking me, Mr. DeSantis,” I say with a sad smile. “You don’t have to pretend for my benefit. And for what it’s worth, I miss it too.”
He kisses my lips, the furthest we’ve gone physically since everything happened.
When he pulls back, he leaves me wanting, but it’s different than before. It’s more of a wanting him closer, needing his skin against mine…not so much needing him inside me.
“I never said I didn’t miss it.” He winks as his hands run up and down my bare arms. “But you’ve shown me that while we work on things, while we both work on things, physical intimacy isn’t the only way we can be intimate.”
Dante has started opening up even more to me, and part of me feels like if we didn’t have this roadblock, we’d be fucking until we were spent, passing out, and doing it all over again like before.
“Do you know how much I just enjoy being in your presence?” he asks. “How much I love coming home to you, taking a shower or a bath with you, wrapping my body around yours, and feeling your heart beating against my chest?” He sighs. “Fuck, angel. You are everything to me, and I am here. You understand that, right? I am right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Voglio passare il resto dell amia vita con te, Giana. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
I look into his eyes, and his words fill me with a peace that’s undeniable.
He’s lied to me before. It’s just another thing we’ve been working through. He told me about the tracking device…why it was there in the first place.
At first I was angry. I mean, I was really fucking angry with this man. He took my privacy away, invaded it by using something so important to me. But I got over it. Because he’s worth it to me. And I could see the reasoning behind every move he made—even if I didn’t always agree with it.
It reminded me of romance novels and movies where such a simple thing could drive a couple apart. You know…that big black moment. The one where something being hidden shatters their worlds and everyone waits with bated breath to see if they’ll come back together.
But honestly…this isn’t a damn movie. And after I cooled down, I realized I’d rather be with someone who implanted a tracker into my necklace, who fought to get me out of my arranged marriage, who made temporary peace with his sworn enemy to get me back, and who tackled the cartel to save me rather than anyone else in this entire universe.
We’re kind of the exact opposite of a romantic movie, aren’t we?
But damn, does it make us real.
I walkover to the record player the morning after we arrive. The sun is glistening over Bear Lake, and I’ve made us coffee. Giana made a phenomenal breakfast, and I’m fucking stuffed, but I’m even more glad that she’s eating again.
The amount of hell that we’ve walked through—together and apart—is unbelievable. But it’s our story. And until the day I die, I will be grateful for every fucking second I have with this woman by my side.
I find an old Al Green record, and I’m taken back to my childhood when my parents would throw dance parties after a long day of my father killing and my mother homemaking like we were living in a dream world.