Chapter 19
Lucia
The faint bitterness of coffee left on the warmer too long drifts into my nostrils as the sizzle of an overworked griddle chops up the chatter of weekend customers. Camille sits across from me, her posture slouched as she tackles a stack of pancakes bigger than her head. Her tapping fingers convey her excitement at being out on her own. Well, as alone as anyone can be with a stone-faced bodyguard a few feet away, monitoring your every move.
Cradling my mug, I pretend the coffee tastes better than it does while trying not to dwell on the fact that Dante didn’t walk in with her. Camille arrived alone.
I’m still trying to understand his actions when the entry doorbell chimes, and Dante walks in.
The moment I see him, my stomach mimics a washing machine. He carries tension as if it’s strapped to his spine. Every line of his body is stretched tight, his shoulders are stiff under his jacket, and the deep groove between his brows looks like it’s been there for hours, maybe even days.
His narrowed eyes sweep over the diner. When they land on me, a muscle in his jaw spasms and my stomachflips.
He doesn’t greet me with a smile, nor does he bother to pretend he’s happy to see me.
With clipped, lengthened strides, he approaches the booth, stops at the table, and without a word, pulls a folded stack of bills from his pocket and drops it beside Camille’s plate.
The money slaps the table, jolting Camille so much that her fork halts midair.
“It’s time to go, Camille.” Dante’s voice is rough, grinded down by anger before he could free them.
Camille freezes, her eyes widening as she shakes her head.
The line between Dante’s brows deepens when his expression stiffens. “Camille, we need to go.” His tone is softer but no less firm.
She denies his command again, this time more insistent. She presses her lips together as she fights not to release the wetness in her eyes.
Seeing her on the verge of tears affects me more than I can explain. It twists my heart before launching it into my throat.
Mindful that he taught his daughter not to cower to intimidation, Dante bobs down and then lowers his voice even further. “It’s time for us to go.”
Her throat works hard to swallow, and for several seconds, her features twist with indecision. She wants to cry or run. Or perhaps even both.
I can’t stand the thought of either, so before I can stop myself, an offer spills from my lips. “She can stay with me for a little while.” I strive to sound casual, even with my pulse thundering in my ears. “I was thinking about going to the park, so it won’t be any bother.”
Camille nods so enthusiastically that the curls around her adorable face bounce. The relief that washes over her is so pure that my offer seems less reckless. Nothing can surpass the love a mother has for her child, so although I’ll still worry about becoming attached, when push comes to shove, I’ll always place Gabriele first.Right?
Although this is precisely what Dante was aiming for weeks ago, hedoesn’t immediately agree to my suggestion. He stares at me, his gaze uneasy.
I’m certain he’s going to refuse, so you can picture my shock when he says, “How much?”
I balk, thrown off guard. “What?”
“How much to watch her?”
His question races bile up my esophagus. “I’m not charging you to spend time with Camille.”
“You either get paid what you deserve for time served”—his clipped tone leaves no room for argument—“or she leaves with me.”
Camille’s excitement crumples, and I shoot her father a glare rueful enough to cut glass. “I’m not charging you to watch?—”
He taps his fingers on the classifieds next to my mug, interrupting me. “It isn’t like any of these will work out for you.”
Humiliation and anger knot in my chest. “You don’t know that. There’s been a ton of new advertisements over the past week.”
I’m a terrible liar, and Dante knows this. He ignores my underhanded jab that he can’t control every adult entertainment industry in the country. His eyes only narrow when he drags them over the figures shown in a handful of ads.
“You made what… around thirty thousand a month dancing?”
