Chapter 14
Dante
Iwake to cold sheets and the taunting mock of silence.
Lucia’s apartment is dim since the curtains are still drawn, but even in the dark, the outline of her absence is carved into the silence.
Her sweet, clean scent lingers on the pillow, but she left hours ago.
Fuck it.
My jaw muscles twitch as I drag a hand down my face, and frustration claws at my throat, wanting to burst free. I spent hours last night striving to make Lucia see that she isn’t a commodity. Like Camille, her value isn’t tied to her gender. She can offer more than the warped expectations she’s been taught to swallow.
Whatever is brewing between us is more than she realizes, and possibly more than she may ever be willing to admit. Yet she still slipped away before dawn, as if I’d paid for the honor last night as she believes I did for our first encounter.
In a way, her theory isn’t far off the mark. I spent a fortune last night to spend time with her. None of the funds went to her, though, and that pisses me off more than I care to admit.
It’s clear she needs money. I just have no clue why.
Mydesperation to make her associate with me is pathetic. I know that. But I do it anyway because I see something in Lucia I haven’t seen from anyone in years. I crave her attention as much as I crave hearing my daughter call me Daddy for the first time.
My phone alarm vibrates on the nightstand, cutting through the quiet. Camille had routines drilled into her so thoroughly in her first four years of life that even if she goes to bed later than usual, she’ll still wake at exactly seven.
A different ache buries itself in my chest. It’s heavy and deep. I hate leaving Lucia’s empty bed, but Camille must come first. Always. She doesn’t fear much, but she’s my father’s only granddaughter and surrounded by four uncles who don’t know the meaning of gentle.
That’s why I asked Valentina to babysit her last night. The nannies are competent, but trust is a rare currency in this world. I can’t afford to spend it lightly.
I perch my ass on the edge of the mattress for a moment, elbows on my knees, staring at the floorboards. Lucia’s absence gnaws at me. I half expected her to leave, but last night felt different. She let me in. Not all the way, but enough to see the edges of something real beneath her armor.
And then she ran.
After standing, my muscles still tender from hours of lovemaking, I tug on the pants left at the foot of the bed and then pick up the shirt Lucia dumped on the floor halfway between our apartments.
Her scent clings to the fabric, and its familiarity batters me under my ribs.
This isn’t the end for us.
Not even close.
The way she comforted me last night when I was snowed under shows we still have more to discuss.
The morning air is cool as I step outside, the sky still bruised with traces of a late-evening storm. A sleek SUV waits in the driveway of the building, uncaring that it’s blocking other residents’ only exit.
I slide in, fire up the engine, and reverse ontothe road.
Halfway to the compound, my phone rings. The dashboard announces it is a call from Elio, the youngest of the five Caruso brothers.
I brace myself for the teasing Giovanni faced when he spent weeks stalking the streets of Carlisle, searching for a needle in a haystack. Don’t get me wrong. Valentina is beautiful, but curvy brunettes with striking faces are common in Sicily. You’ll find one at every turn. A blonde with angelic features and a pussy that tastes like honey, though, is a rarity.
Why do you think I’ve been so gung-ho with my pursuit of Lucia?
I hit the call connect button and greet Elio with a grunt.
“Good, you’re awake.” His voice is too tight for the hour, and the fact that he doesn’t return my greeting suggests he probably didn’t sleep last night. “I found out something about Lucia.”
My grip on the wheel firms. “What kind of something?”
“I backtracked her movements during the preceding fourteen days. Took all night.”
