When we get to the Escalade, I block his hand before he can grab the door handle.
“I’mleaving. You and your rank cigar ass are not.”
I fling the door open and climb inside. When Dante moves to get in with me, I block him, throwing out a hand.
“I mean it! Dante, I swear to God, I will puke on you. You fucking reek. Ride with one of your brothers.”
His brows drop. “You’re serious?”
“As a fucking heart attack.”
He opens his mouth to argue but clearly thinks better of it, and with a nod to Donovan, he closes the door for me and steps back onto the curb.
I’m grateful for the quiet on the ride home. I keep the windows cracked to let the cool night air circulate, and Donovan says nothing as he drives. After a heartfelt apology for biting his head off back at the restaurant, which he graciously accepts, I let out a deep sigh and let my head fall back on the headrest.
At least I found out Jessica hadn’t been sucking my husband’s cock that day. Thank heaven for small victories, right? Otherwise…the rest of the night seems like a total wash.
* * *
I’min bed with my back to the bedroom door and the covers pulled up to my chin when Dante finally comes home later that night. I close my eyes and pretend I’m asleep, but he pads softly across the floor and goes directly into the bathroom.
The shower runs for a while, then turns off. My body is tense while I listen to him moving around on the other side of the bathroom door. I’m on edge. Anger has been churning inside me for hours now. I can’t stop thinking about the mob men and what happened in the humidor. What it might mean for our future.
Dante comes out of the bathroom and stands at the foot of the bed. Keeping my eyes closed, I hope that he’ll give up on me and just go to sleep.
“I know you’re not asleep. And I know you’re pissed. Look at me, Frankie.”
Fuck.
With a sharp exhale, I roll to a sitting position and stare him down. He’s toweling his hair dry, standing there stark naked. And yes, he looks good enough to eat. Bastard.
“You missed your calling as a detective, Bellanti,” I spit out at him.
He doesn’t bat an eye as he tosses his towel onto a chair. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Then don’t fight me,” I snap.
“Francesca, there are things going on that you don’t understand. That you can’t—”
“No, Dante. There are things going on that I don’tknow about. There’s a difference. You’re making shady deals in literally smoky back rooms with shady mob people. I understand that much. Now I need to know why.”
His eyes shift to the side, his head tilting, and he looks like he’s actually considering it.
But then, “I don’t want to worry you with—”
With a frustrated groan, I whip the covers over my head and roll onto my side again, back facing him. Undeterred, he slips under the sheet to sidle up behind me, wrapping me in his arms.
I try to stay frozen still as Dante gathers me against him, the warmth of his growing erection pressing into my ass. He threads his fingers through my hair, drawing tingles over my scalp. It’s hard to be mad when he’s tantalizing me like this, but I’m determined not to waver.
“I didn’t make any deals with them,” he says, speaking softly into my hair. “I swear. But know this. I’d make a deal with God, the devil,andhis sister to keep you and this baby safe.”
He kisses the back of my neck, trailing his lips to my shoulder as his hand moves to the front of my stomach and tenderly cups my belly. “You and this kid are what matter most to me. I love you, even when you don’t love me back.”
I think about the song the Frisco woman sang tonight, about Elvira—a woman doomed to love an evil man. I think of the evil things my father did to my mother, to me and my sisters, and was still trying to do. An equally evil person killed Dante’s father. But…Dante isn’t evil. Sometimes he doesn’t do good things, but he’s still far from the evil I’ve experienced in my life.
Turning in his arms, I stare into his eyes.
“I do love you,” I tell him. “It makes meso madsometimes, but I do. Please don’t doubt that.”
