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I grin a lazy smile up at him. “Maybe a little. Glad I did, that’s for sure,” I giggle.
He smirks. “Good.” I gasp when he suddenly flips me over and gives me a hard swat on my tender ass. “Because this is the last fucking time you’ll ever come here.”
I grin as I roll over to face him. “We’ll see about that.”
Dante’s brow cocks with a warning look. “Thatconstantneed to test me…” he growls darkly. “It’s going to get you in fucking trouble.”
“Is that a promise?”
Spoiler: it totally is.
23
DANTE
What the fuckis wrong with me?
It’s close to four-thirty in the morning, and I’m sitting on the edge of Tempest’s bed, in her room, watching her sleep.
It gets worse.
After fucking each other’s brains out at Venom, Tempest crashed hard in the private room. I took her home, and I’ve just tucked her in. Now I’m just watching her sleep, andI can’t seem to stop.
I push a lock of hair out of her face, and my jaw sets.
This wasn’t supposed to get this deep. This big.
This…real.
It can’t. Not just because our worlds are not compatible, but also, and worse…
…she comes with an expiration date.
I don’t get to keep her, no matter how much I want to. And all the rage and fury at the injustice of that isn’t something I’m prepared to deal with.
So instead, I stand, and go deal with something else. Something that Ihavebeen prepared for, for a long, long time…
“Thanks for this.”
Carmine shrugs casually as we descend into the sub-basement of a restaurant in the Meatpacking District that he owns. Beneath the basement prep-kitchen, the walk-in, and the kegs of beer, this last staircase takes us deeper and darker into the bowels of the building, to a place from which most of its visitors don’t return.
I’ve been down here with Carmy before. Mostly only as an observer. But one of the trophy rings I have in the box in my office came from a night down here much like tonight.
“Hey, no worries, brother,” Carmine grins when we reach the bottom of the metal stairs. “I mean, I haven’t gotten you a wedding gift yet, so…” He chuckles darkly. “You’re welcome.”
“I’ll take this over matching china or a toaster oven any day.”
He grins. “What we do for the women we care about, huh?” Then he turns to arch a brow at me as he hands me the key to the padlock. “You want a hand?”
“No,” I shake my head. “No, this is mine.”
“Well, restaurant’s closed today, so no prep crew coming in. Take your time.”
I nod.
“I plan on it.”
When Carmine disappears back up the staircase, I insert the key into the padlock. The heavy door of the refrigerated room that was probably once used to butcher and cure meat swings open noisily on old, rusty hinges.
