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“Then I’ll destroy them,” he murmurs back, his quiet tone belying the look of sheer malice and savagery on his face.
He slides me onto his lap, kissing me slowly before I pull back a little.
“Why?”
His brow furrows. “Why what?”
“Why destroy them? I mean, why risk anything, especially your empire, to go hunting formyshadows and ghosts?—”
“Because you’re mywife,” Dante spits viciously. He’s so matter of fact about it that it forces a ripple of heat down my spine.
His hands tighten on my waist, pinning me to his lap as his eyes lock with mine. My lips curl slightly as I chew on them.
“Don’t,” I whisper, shaking my head.
“Don’t?” he grunts.
“Don’t…say anything more,” I croak, my face twisting sadly. “Thisends, Dante. Remember that.”
He smiles a wry, bitter smile. “So… No falling in love with you.”
My face heats as my lips curl. “No,” I whisper softly.
“How about crushes?”
I grin, my cheeks turning pink. “Stopit.”
Dante just grins back as he kisses me slowly and deeply. “Until this…ends,” he says quietly, “you’re my wife, Tempest. You’remine.” His eyes lock boldly with my own. “And I’ll kill for what’s mine.”
28
DANTE
“Have a seat.”
Vito looks tired as I sink into the couch facing the one he’s sitting in.
It’s funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same. When I was a kid, Vito used to bring Carmy, Nico, and I up here to visit him at work. Back then the office was above Lickety Splits, quite possibly the most fantastically named strip club ever.
These days, the first two floors are no longer all mirrored VIP champagne rooms and stripper poles. Now the ground floor is a two Michelin star French restaurant, and there’s a tech startup above it. But Vito’s office on the third floor still looksexactlythe same.
Same desk. Same ancient leather Chesterfield sofas. Same tobacco-laced air from when he still smoked. And the same neon Lickety Splits sign up on the wall.
“Can I assume you’ve got an idea of why I called you in here today? You’re a smart kid, Dante.”
I doubt I’m going to be surprised. I’m almost definitely in here to talk with Vito about Silvio, and to be reminded that his mother’s uncle is Don Luciano Amato, who sits on the Commission alongside Vito.
“You put the kid in a fuckin’ coma, Dante.”
Yeah. Currently, Silvio’s in a hospital room hooked up to about a half dozen machines, including one that’s breathing for him.
He’s having a hard time doing that for himself.
My eyes narrow coldly. “He assaulted mywife, Vito. I’m not exactly sure how else I was expected to fucking react!”
Vito’s mouth twists. “Look, I can appreciate your passion, Dante. Of course I can. But Jesus fucking Christ, kid! You know things have been tense at the Commission table recently, especially with Massimo now running things.”
Christ, this daytime soap opera drama. The quick version is, while The Commission exists to keep the peace between the most powerful Italian families, not everything is rainbows and unicorns under the shiny surface. Don Amato has been wondering aloud why the Commission is even necessary for years. And since Massimo “relieved” his father as head of the Carveli family—allegedlyrelieved—he’s been singing the same tune.
