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“I’m in love with you, Mia,” he says, so quietly I think I must be dreaming.
“What?”
“I’m in love with you,” he says again, his voice louder, stronger. “I don’t know when it happened, baby, but I fell so hard for you. You’re all I think about. You’re all Iwantto think about. I choose you.”
I’m losing my resolve and I know it. I can’t help but drop my arms, opening myself up. Dante takes another step closer, pushes my auburn hair out of my face.
I turn my face into his hand, my heart feeling like it might burst.
“You’re not lying this time?” I whisper.
Dante shakes his head fiercely. “I’m not lying. I swear I’m not, pretty girl.”
I let him put his arms around me and I sob into his chest, wetting his shirt. He croons sweet nothings to me, soothing me, and eventually, I stop crying and pull away.
“I don’t forgive you,” I say flatly, and Dante looks crushed, his face falling. “But goddamnit, Iloveyou, Dante. I’ve loved you since I was a teenager.”
His eyes shoot to mine, hope flaring in their depths. “You mean that?”
“I’ve only told you a hundred times,” I say, frustrated, and Dante barks out a short laugh.
“Does that mean that you’re not going to divorce me?” he asks quietly.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Seems like a lot of work.”
Dante breaks into a grin. “Yeah, so much work,” he agrees.
“But you’re not going to get my trust back easily,” I say firmly.
“Of course not. I’m willing to do anything, baby. Anything,” he promises.
I look at him, into his hazel eyes, and I still feel just as much love as always. I can’t let him go, no matter what he’s done, what he planned to do.
“No more plotting to kill my father,” I say, and Dante laughs softly, his arms still loose around my waist.
“Cross my heart,” he says, still smiling.
I slowly smile back, although it’s shaky. “You really love me?”
“I really do,” he breathes. “So much, Mia. I love you so much.”
I burst into tears again and Dante holds me close. “Can we go back home?” he asks in a small voice, and I want to say yes but I’m not sure I can, not yet.
“Not just yet,” I say.
Dante pouts, but he doesn’t seem offended.
“Go home and shower,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “And then you’re coming to a family dinner tonight.”
Dante blanches. “Only if you promise Luca isn’t going to kill me.”
“I’d never let him do that,” I scold, and then Dante kisses me, suddenly, and I can’t help moaning into his mouth as he sticks his tongue between my lips.
“What time?” he asks against my mouth.
“Eight,” I tell him, and back away. He slowly and reluctantly lowers his hands from my hips and nods.
“I’ll be here. With bells on,” he says.
