Page 52 of The Broker
VALENTINA
Getting up on Friday is a struggle. I wake Angelica up, feed her breakfast, get her ready for school, and then walk her there, all in a bleary haze.
I didn’t get any sleep last night. I fell asleep in Dante’s arms. We woke up at midnight to have sex again, and then at three, just as I was getting ready to leave, he cried out in the grip of a nightmare.
And then wetalked.
The conversation with Dante in the middle of the night feltintimate,even more so than the sex. He didn’t try to pretend that everything was okay. He was vulnerable, and in return, so was I.
As early as two weeks ago, I would have never told Dante I had nightmares about his brother long after his death. He already saw me as a victim, or so I thought. Why would I give him more ammunition?
But without being conscious of it, something has shifted in the last two weeks. Dante’s protectiveness doesn’t feel stifling. It makes me feel. . . cherished.
I haven’t given myself permission to think about the changing nature of our relationship. But if everything he’s told me is true, he’s wanted me for a very long time. And, if I’m being perfectly honest with myself, I’ve wanted him for almost as long.
Leo once said that the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. And I’ve never been indifferent to Dante Colonna.
Love is a four-letter word, one I am not yet ready to say. But I can admit that I enjoyed last night and would like to do that again.
Dante is still at home when I get back from dropping Angelica at school. “I thought you’d be at work,” I tell him, reaching around him to help myself to a cup of coffee.
He stretches lazily. “I’m having a slow start to my morning.” He glances at his watch and makes a face. “I should probably speed it up. What do you have going on today?”
I take a sip of coffee. Yuck. When I’m sleep-deprived, coffee always tastes bitter in my mouth, and that’s what’s happening now. There’s only one way to fix this.
“I’m going to start by taking a nap,” I announce, stifling my yawn. “Thanks to a certain someone, I didn’t get much sleep last night.” He chuckles unrepentantly. “Unless there’s something you need me to do?”
“No.” He touches my cheek, a tender gesture that does something to my heart. “You’ve been working really long hours. You look tired. Get some rest.”
“Yes, that isexactlywhat you should say to a woman.”
He rolls his eyes. “That is not what I meant, and you know it.”
As tempting as it is to give him grief, I’m too wiped. “Will you wake me up in a couple of hours? I’ll set an alarm, but I’m afraid I’ll hit snooze and ignore it.”
“I can do that.” He brushes a kiss over my lips. “See you this evening.”
“Will you be home for dinner?”God.The moment I say those words, I wish I could take them back. I sound so domestic. I wouldn’t blame Dante for freaking out a little.
“I will,” he replies instead. “But don’t make anything. I’m going to cook tonight.”
“Somebody pinch me, I’m dreaming. You know reheating takeout in the microwave doesn’t count as cooking, right? Or are you planning to open a can of soup?”
“Brat.” He bops my nose gently and gets to his feet in one fluid motion. “Want me to carry you to bed, Valentina, or can you make it on your own?”
I picture Dante sweeping me into his arms and carrying me up the stairs. He’d toss me down on the bed and look down at me, his dark eyes heated.Take off your clothes, he’d order as he undid his belt buckle.
Then we’d fuck again, and as hot as that sounds, I need my nap. “I can manage, thanks,” I say hastily. Then, before temptation can swallow me whole, I flee.
The ringing of my phone wakes me up. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Dante says, sounding entirely too cheerful. “And turn on your camera.”
“Why?”
“I’ve thought of another homework assignment for you.”
I’m instantly awake. “Aren’t you at work?”
“Yes, but my door is locked, and I’m using the secure app you told me to install on my phone.”