Ultimately, though, this wasn’t about Dante. I didn’t know the guy. And I would happily shoot him myself if he ever threatened me or Vito or our child again the way he had in Naples. Because I was much tougher and more resilient than I had been then.
All I’d wanted Vito to know was that there was a way out—if he wanted to take it. That killing Dante didn’t have to be inevitable, if it meant destroying a part of his own soul. But his furious reaction to my suggestion had told me exactly how hard it was going to be for him to ever let me in.
When the gulping sobs finally passed, I pushed myself off the floor and took a shower. I felt weak and groggy and still scared. Because I knew, whatever he did about Dante tonight, I’d revealed my feelings. If he talked to me again or made love to me the way he had this morning, with that furious look in his eyes, it would make me doubt myself even more. And every time he pushed me away, every time he used sex to control his feelings, to control me, it would chip away another little piece of my heart and my self-respect and my hope.
And if he killed Dante just to protect himself from feeling anything at all…if he treated me again with the contempt he had this morning, how did either of us come back from that?
I’d wanted to prove to him I was strong, that I wasn’t afraid of loving him, that the passion we shared, the desire to protect each other, went both ways.
But what if I wasn’t tough enough to ever punch through the walls he’d built around his heart? What if hope wasn’t enough to weather the pain he could cause me while I waited for him to let me in? And how would I ever survive being a mafia don’s woman, changing my own life so fundamentally to love him, if he could never ever offer me the same love in return?
Chapter Fourteen
Vito
‘Leave us,’ Iorderedthe guards as I stepped into the dank cell where Dante had been chained.
He’d arrived on the island that morning only a few hours before me, but I could see my men had not been idle in the hours while I had stewed in my office at the villa, cursing Mia, before crossing the island to finish this.
My stomach contracted, the riot of emotions Mia had caused no longer something I could control as I stared at the man I had loved as a boy.
His shirt was torn and bloody, the welts on his back and shoulders visible even in the shadows. He was slumped against the wall, his forehead resting against the cold stone, his wrists manacled, and his arms chained above his head in an uncomfortable position. Some of the injuries might have been caused when he was taken in a café in Avellino, a small town near Naples—because the bastard was just that audacious. But not all of them.
I had not sanctioned the beating, but neither had I forbidden it, and I could not blame my men for wanting revenge. While no one had died during the attack in Naples, several of them had sustained injuries, some of them severe, mine included.
He didn’t turn to look at me as I stepped into the cell, but his shoulders tensed. I was glad he was not unconscious. He deserved to know why he would die, I told myself, even as the pit in my stomach—the pit I had struggled to close ever since listening to Mia’s pleas—continued to widen.
Do not listen to her. She has no place in your heart. No one does. No one can.
‘Give me the keys,’ I murmured as the last guard walked past me to exit the cell.
The guard hesitated before handing them over. ‘Be careful of him,padrino. He is strong, and he does not know when he is beaten.’
‘So nothing has changed then,’ I muttered.
The wry comment echoed in the airless room, the scent of blood and dirt suffocating. I could not deny the swell of admiration that Dante had fought like hell to defy his fate. But then the pride mixed with the anger and resentment which had driven me to this point, but also the fear and regret Mia had stirred that morning when she had begged me to reconsider ending Dante’s life. Emotions which had infuriated me then, but pushed against my chest now like a heavy weight I could not lift.
‘Please, Vito, don’t do this. For me. For us. The feud might never end. And it will hurt you, too.’
Damn it, why couldn’t I get those words out of my head?
The gun I had holstered under my arm felt so much heavier than usual. But instead of drawing it and taking the shot I had been envisioning for months now, I found myself lifting a chair and slamming it down beside my brother’s slumped body. The thought of Mia’s pleas and the deep compassion in her eyes started to crush my ribs and made it hard for me to breathe.
I sat down, folding my arms over the back of the chair as the emotions I had been afraid of, the emotions she had stirred, drained the last of the anger I had felt towards this man for so long…
Again, Dante didn’t raise his head, but I saw tension ripple down his spine, his back a mass of purpling bruises.
Suddenly I was drawn back to the day when I had seen him last…not a man then but just a child, fierce and loyal and confused. I could hear the sound of that boy’s angry tears, the squeal of the mongrel puppy he had nurtured. The brutal crack of my father’s hand across his face as Dante had tried to defend his treasured pet. And the hollow pop of the gun my father had used to kill it.
I huffed out a breath. And let the emotion claim me this time.
I didn’t just want Mia. I needed her. I loved her. But I was terrified of admitting it to myself because of everything that had happened on that terrible day, when I had let my father do something unforgiveable to Dante, to his dog, and had done nothing to help him.
Could I save him now, save us both, by finding another way? The weight eased, the heavy burden of guilt I hadn’t even realised had been crushing me for a very long time lifting at last.
Fuck it.Miahadbeen right.
I needed Mia. I wanted her. Why shouldn’t I have her? If I showed Dante mercy, would it make me worthy of her, would it prove I deserved her? All of her. Not just her body. Not just her loyalty, but also her love?
