Page 27 of Ruthless Vows
Each time the other man moves closer to us, a fraction of light spills back into the alley and bounces off the knife.
“You even think about touching her again, you’re dead, motherfucker.”
The words give me pause, stopping me from trying to crawl away and forcing me to try to get a good look at the second man.
But it doesn’t matter. I don’t have to see him because I’d know that voice anywhere.
Deep. Foreboding. Gritty.
The sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Dante.”
It isn’t a question; it’s the truest statement I’ve ever spoken.
“Find your own whore, dickwad.” The first man steps toward Dante, and I know that was the wrong move.
Dante’s eyes flick from where I am on the ground back to the man who threw me here in the first place. I freeze, an endless amount of conflicting emotions surging through me as I watch Dante step up to the stranger and pull a gun from his side.
“Woah, woah, woah. Cool it, m-man. Take the whore, then. There’s plenty of rich bitches coming out of that party happening down the street tonight. Coulda f-found your own…” he stammers and holds his palms up toward Dante. The knife is still gripped tightly with his thumb as his fingers shake.
I latch my eyes back onto Dante’s as he cocks his gun, the sound echoing through the alleyway. People walk by but don’t even bother to glance in our direction.
“You have no manners,” Dante says, and tsks. “Who taught you to talk that way about women?”
Before the man can answer, Dante delivers a hard blow to his face, and on impact, his nose makes a sickening crack. Blood flows freely down his face. He makes an attempt to run, but Dante grabs ahold of him and slams him against the brick wall, forcing a loud grunt from the man.
“Come on. I’ll go! I’ll go. Didn’t mean anything by it.”
Something tells me that doesn’t matter to Dante. The look in his eyes is one I’ve seen plenty of times before, just not from him. This is an entirely new side of him—one I had no idea existed…one that chills me to the bone.
Darkness swirls in his amber eyes. His chest puffs in and out rapidly as the man struggles to break free. Struggles but doesn’t succeed.
“You’re lucky I don’t want to make a big mess,” Dante grits out. “But make no mistake, I will come for you. You can watch over your fucking shoulder, but you’ll never see me coming. But when I do”—he rips the man’s wallet from the back of his jeans and pulls out his identification card—“it’ll be your fucking death sentence.”
Dante takes the knife from the man and pats him down before letting him run—and he does. He sprints in the opposite direction down the alleyway as Dante shakes his head, glancing down at the ID and stuffing it into his own pocket.
“He can run, but tomorrow, he’ll be a fucking dead man. I quite like a good game of cat and mouse.” He turns to me. “Giana, are you okay?”
I’m still frozen on the ground when Dante comes closer and bends down. He pushes the hair out of my face and pulls me up to stand.
My mind spins, trying to decipher how the hell he just appeared out of nowhere. How it’s even possible that he’s here right now.
“Dante…how are you here?” I ask, struggling to make sense of everything.
Too much has happened in such a short amount of time. Leaving the bookshop, being pulled into the alley, Dante just seemingly showing up out of thin air.
His hand in mine is warmth and safety, and part of me wishes it wasn’t. The logical side of my brain knows this is ending before it can even begin, and I need to protect my heart from any further damage being in this man’s presence can do to it.
“I’ll explain. I need to get you out of here, though.” He starts pulling me behind him and then asks, “Have you eaten?” But he then immediately follows up with, “Fuck it. Doesn’t matter. Let’s go. It’s my turn to show you one of my favorite spots.”
I’mno one’s hero. Certainly not a fucking Amato’s. But if I’m not her hero, what am I?
Her fucking stalker, that’s for certain. Still, I reason that had I not been watching her, she’d either be hurt or dead. I clench my fist, relishing in the soreness of it, knowing that the motherfucker who tried to hurt her will be gone in the next twenty-four hours.
I place my hand on the small of Giana’s back and lead her into Vinny’s, my favorite diner in the city. It’s on DeSantis territory, obviously, and the owner and my father go way back. I’ve been coming here since I was a toddler, and I’ve got some beautiful memories here with Sofia.
The familiar sound of the old bells hanging from the door chime, and I follow in behind Giana before calling out, “Evening, Nonna!” when I see the elderly woman who has been a staple in my life since I was young.