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I’d been just a kid, so of course I’d developed a crush on him. Who wouldn’t? He’d been so brave, stepping in front of a bullet for me. I guess not much has changed in four years, given that my heart is doing backflips in my chest.
I can’t wait to see Dante, and I smile at my father.
“I’ll be there,” I say, not wanting to appear too eager. But when I leave his office, I all but sprint upstairs to my room to change.
I don’t want to wear a club dress when Dante’s father has just died. They haven’t had a service, yet, but all the mafioso will be invited, of course.
I’m glad that I’ll get to see Dante before the ceremony, something less formal.
I change my dress about four times before settling on a sky-blue, low-cut number, not quite an evening gown but a little more than a cocktail dress. The blue looks good with my auburn hair, and it matches my eyes.
The cook is making veal chops for dinner and my mouth waters as she starts to cook them. I know I’ve put on a few pounds recently because I’ve been staying home too much, which is one of the reasons I was trying to get out of the house.
My dress fits a little tighter than expected and I keep pulling it down to cover more of my thick thighs, frowning.
Dante is half an hour late, and I’m a little annoyed but it’s okay because Elena, our cook, has made us peppermint tea (she says it aids digestion) and I’m sipping it when our butler, Charles, announces, “Dante Ricci,” and bows as Dante walks in the room. Dante smiles at Charles and all the air goes out of my lungs in a whoosh.
While I’ve been gaining weight the past four years, Dante has just been getting more attractive. There are a few lines around his eyes that just add to his rugged good looks, and there’s stubble across his jaw, a little darker-colored than the hair on his head.
He’s wearing an obviously tailored suit, and he takes off his jacket and sits it on his chair before sitting down, across from me. He looks right into my face and I freeze. I think this is the first time he’s actually acknowledged me since the day he saved me.
“Hello, Mia. You’re looking beautiful, as always,” he says in a low, charming tone, and I can’t help but smile at him.
“You look well, too, Dante.” I pause. “I was so sorry to hear about your father. He was always kind to me.”
I didn’t know Dante’s father that well, but Enzo had been kind to me on that day.
Suddenly, I’m no longer sitting at the dining table. I’m back there again. Back in the day where nearly everything changed for me.
I dropped to the ground, hiding under someone’s desk. We were at a dinner party, and I didn’t remember nor did I really care whose party it was.I’d never even seen a shootout, much less been involved in one, and my heart felt like it was going to climb out of my mouth.
I wasn’t breathing well, hyperventilating and looking everywhere for my father.
"Hey, hold up!” a voice yelled from behind me and I whirled around to see Dante, holding his hands up. “You fucking idiots, there are children here!”
He walked toward the gunfire as I was trying to crawl away, kicking one of the shooter’s legs out from under him.
I remembered thinking, even in my terrified haze, that he was awfully brave.
I turned slightly when the gunfire died down but the other guy kept shooting and bullets were whizzing by my head.
Dante ducked, crouching in front of me and grunting out when a bullet grazed his bicep.
“Are you okay, pretty girl?” he asked, and I looked up at him with wide eyes, terrified. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do anything but stare at him as my heart seemed to seize up in my chest.
Dante put both his hands on my shoulders. “Breathe, kiddo. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow, yeah?”
I did as he said and I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t see the blood trailing down his arm.
When I opened my eyes, Dante picked me up, bridal style, and carried me to my father, who took me from his arms and squeezed me tight.
“She’ll be okay,” Dante said, his voice tight with pain as he grimaced and looked at the wound on his arm.
“Dante, I can never repay you—”
“Forget it,” Dante said harshly, leaving the room, and that was the last time I’d spoken to Dante Ricci.
I shake myself from the memory.
