Page 53

I tiptoed into the room, then sat cross-legged on the floor beside him. ‘Dante, what’s going on?’ I whispered.

He blinked, the sorrow in his eyes devastating me. ‘My father killed him, because he loved me…’ he said, his deep voice breaking on the words.

‘Killed who, Dante?’ I asked, my heart beating so fast against my ribs I could barely breathe. But what I saw in his face—not just the devastation but the loss, the grief—had me placing my palm on his cheek. The muscle bunched under my hand, but when he shook his head and stroked the puppy again, who had stopped chewing the expensive shoe and settled on his lap, his breath gushed out.

‘Non è importante,’ he murmured as he pressed the heel of his hand into his eye.

‘Yes, it is important, Dante. It is to me.’

He stared at me for the longest time, the puppy snoring now. Dante’s large tattooed hand rested protectively on its head and all the love I had for him geysered up inside me.

‘Tell me what he did to you, Dante. Because it matters. To me it matters, because I love you so much.’

He shook his head and stared down at the puppy in his lap, caressing the soft fur, but I knew his mind was elsewhere when he began to talk, the muscle in his jaw flexing, his tone raw with emotions he could no longer hide.

‘The dog I told you of, the dog I loved. One of my father’s men on Isla Donna let me have him as a puppy, because they were going to drown it. He was a good dog… Not very obedient.’ He laughed, but there was no humour in it, only the echo of grief. ‘My father didn’t care for it because it was a runt, a mongrel. Just as I was. He had never cared for me… I knew it always,’ he said, the wistful acceptance in his voice crucifying me. ‘When he found out about Vito, that he had another son, a legitimate heir from the wife who had run from him, he told me I would be replaced. I was seven and…’ he shrugged ‘…I didn’t mind. I think I always knew he only tolerated me because, until he found Vito, there was no other of his blood. I had been an accident, and he could be brutal to my mother. I would hear her crying at night. She was young when she had me, only seventeen. And I think, like many women in relationships like theirs…’ he met my gaze ‘…she thought if she stayed, if she showed him her loyalty, he would change.’ He shook his head. ‘But he never did. I looked up to Vito when he came to the island. I was excited to have a brother, and even though he didn’t talk for a long time, he loved my dog, too. We would play with it together.’ He scratched the puppy’s fur and I covered his tattooed hand with mine, his gentleness and the regret in his voice breaking my heart. He’d been a child—who had never been allowed to have a childhood.

Mia had once told me she thought Vito’s father had been a monster, that the Rocco boss had forced Vito to kill his own stepfather when he was just twelve years old. And that while he had hated the man who had beaten him before Salvatore Rocco had ‘rescued’ him, she believed Vito was still traumatised by those events.

I could see now I had been right and that his father’s rejection had traumatised Dante too.

‘I begged him not to hurt my mother that day. She was distraught at the thought of being thrown off Isla Donna. I think she knew that having to beg her brothers for shelter, my uncles, the Malvini mob, things would only get worse for her. Because they were brutes with women, even their own.’

‘Oh, Dante.’ I swiped the tears running down my cheeks.

‘He kept slapping me down. And the dog… My dog. My Rocky. He tried to protect me. So my father shot him in front of me.’

I couldn’t hold back the sob at the thought of the hideous way he had been forced to grow up far too soon.

He looked at me. And clasped my neck, to tug me to him and rest his forehead on mine. ‘I’m sorry, Eva. I behaved like a pig this morning. Like him. Because seeing the puppy in your arms and knowing how much I have come to need you… It brought back that terrible day…and I was scared.’

‘It’s OK…’ I sniffed, pressing my hands to his cheeks, stroking the rough stubble, feeling him shaking too, the emotion too much for either of us to bear. ‘It’s OK… We can rehouse the puppy if it’s too much, if it brings it all back for you. I understand. And I’m sorry too.’

Because I’d misjudged him again, let my insecurities drive me, too.

‘No, Eva.’ He shook his head and covered my hands with his to pull them away from his face. He grasped my fingers. ‘Do not be sorry. We will keep him. But you must understand, I’m not a good man. I will never be a good man. But I want to learn to love you, if I can… If you will let me.’

‘Of course I will, Dante. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. But what were you so scared of?’ I asked, needing to know so I could finally bury the last of my insecurities, too.

He threaded his fingers through mine and placed my hand against his heart. ‘That if you loved me, I would lose you too.’

God, it was so simple.

I gulped down another sob. ‘You can’t lose me, Dante, not if you’ll let yourself love me too. We can make this work, I know we can.’

Carefully, he lifted the snoring puppy off his lap and then dragged me into it. He clasped my head and feasted on my lips, pouring all his hope and fear and longing into the kiss and my heart flooded with joy.

But when we finally came up for air, he framed my face, let those dark blue eyes meet mine and said the words that shattered my heart all over again.

‘I cannot stop myself from loving you, Eva… That is why I have been so afraid.’

And I found myself laughing and crying and kissing him all at the same time. And pretty soon we woke up the puppy and he joined in the excitement, while my heart filled with joy. And emotion. And the knowledge that my love for this bad man and his love for me would always be the best thing about us both—and the only thing that really mattered.

‘You have to promise me one thing though, Dante,’ I said when he finally stopped kissing me, and the puppy quietened down a bit.

‘What is this thing you ask of me, Eva?’ he said and I saw the wariness, but I also saw the determination. And his dedication to making this work.

‘Don’t ever shut me out again. Let me support you, let me help you heal. Just like you’ve helped me heal.’