Chapter 12
Dante
Valentina’s dark locks look frazzled from wrestling a mini tornado when she answers my FaceTime request. Knowing Camille, she probably has been.
“She’s brushing her teeth.” Valentina rolls her eyes. “Again. She wants them extra shiny… like that silver pole she’s hoping you’ll install in her new bedroom.”
A groan rumbles in my chest. Camille wasn’t solely obsessed with glitter and fake diamonds in Fenicottero Rosa’sdressing room. She also noticed the pole that gives Lucia a brief escape from her life.
I wasn’t lying when I said Lucia loses herself to the pole. Negativities fall away, and the woman she could become if she were free to live her life as she wishes shines brightly.
I scratch my brow. “Or perhaps she’s excited about her new bed?”
Notthebed I see behind Valentina. Camille picked one from a catalogue for the apartment I bought and renovated in under an hour. The apartment next to Lucia’s lacks a child’s bed because it was purchased by the very men I’m trying to keep Lucia and Camille away from.
Daniele Romano couldn’t keep his paid mistress in the samebuilding as his wife and kids, so he chose a discreet spot half a block from the brothel his wife also doesn’t know about. For a glorified pimp, he has good taste. The apartment is upscale and would sell for top dollar in the right part of Carlisle, but the furniture was bought with money from the prostitution ring.
The reminder immediately makes the high-end finishes appear cheap.
Although I could have let Camille pick any bed from the oversized rooms, I couldn’t stand the thought of her sleeping on a mattress once used by a man who saved a woman from trafficking only to enslave her in a poorly disguised BDSM arrangement.
The model Camille chose from a glossy catalogue arrives tomorrow. It shipped immediately per my agreement with the manufacturer, but the barge portion of the route means it won’t arrive until well after Camille’s bedtime.
I shouldn’t have promised her any bed she wanted, but that was the only way I could pull her attention from the glittery costumes at the strip club. She was instantly enamored, as was I when Lucia twirled around the pole last week.
I massage the guilt-induced headache forming behind my eyes. I could have taken Camille home myself, but there was too much desperation in Lucia’s eyes when she scrounged for every tip during my hour-long commute to Fenicottero Rosa to push aside. I won’t mention the shame that burned through her retinas when I covered her up after our hard and fast fuck or guilt will eat me alive.
I didn’t cover her up because I was ashamed of her.
It was to hide the hickeys I’d left on her neck.
Besides, Camille is safe at the compound. No one will touch her there, not if they want to remain breathing, and the knowledge frees me to spend the night working on Lucia’s objections.
It’s clear she cares for Camille. The hope in her eyes when I called her name would have tugged even the evilest man’s heartstrings. She’s as smitten with Camille as Camille is with her, so why is she pretending that becoming a permanent part of her life is a disservice?
I’m stolen the chance to contemplate further when a shadow appears behind Valentina. When Camille realizes who Valentina is talking to, she climbs onto her lap. Her dark hair is damp and her pajamas are crinkled, but her eyes are bright and questioning.
Since I’m too overwhelmed to sort through the mess for a suitable explanation for a four-year-old, I remember that I’m her protectorandher father. “It’s time for bed, young lady. You’re already thirty minutes past schedule.”
Her bottom lip drops into a pout, but her slow crawl up the bed exposes her exhaustion. She woke up at four, excited for her soccer tournament, and played hard. We were on our way home after celebrating her team’s hat trick of wins with ice cream when I got a call that one of the traps I’d set to catch Lucia had paid off.
The surveillance image of “Lulu” was grainy but unmistakable. My cock hardened in an instant, and Camille almost squealed with excitement.
Hope to hear her speak again made me go in a little hard. I shouldn’t have started with a job offer, but since I didn’t know why she fled last week, it seemed the better choice.
I could never be accused of being shy, but after wasting almost five years chasing a ghost, I’m also not the most confident prick in the room.
Only Matteo is cocky enough to pull that off.
As Valentina pulls down Camille’s pink floral bedspread, my daughter’s eyes lock with mine through Valentina’s phone. She doesn’t speak—regretfully—but I hear her demands loud and clear.
Story?
Leaning back in my chair, I loosen my tie. The renovation crew left ten minutes ago, so all I hear now are my whistling breaths and the occasional hungry rumble from the apartment next to mine.
“It’s late.” Never one to disappoint, I add, “So we better keep it short.”
Camille settles against Valentina, watching me with wide, expressive eyes. Her silence doesn’t hide her feelings. She wears her heart on her sleeve, as does my new neighbor.
