Page 36 of It Kills Me


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“What happened with your mother?” She was never mentioned. There were no photographs in the house. It was as if Dante had given birth to her and raised her entirely on his own.

“You won’t tell me what happened with your family, but you expect to pry into my drama?”

“I’m not prying,” I said calmly. “You don’t have to answer.”

She took a few more bites of her food, her eyes down on the table. “My parents weren’t in a relationship when she became pregnant with me. They were young, as you probably figured out. My father and I are only nineteen years apart.” She used her knife to cut into the chicken and took a few more bites, handling herself with the eloquence of a queen. “She wanted to abort the pregnancy, but he didn’t.”

“Why?” He had been a nineteen-year-old kid at the time. Why would he take on that responsibility?

“He has strong beliefs about that sort of thing.”

“So, he raised you on his own?”

“Yep,” she said. “She gave birth to me, and he took me home.”

It was hard to believe that Dante had a child at such a young age, but he still managed to build an enviable empire. As much as I despised him, it was impossible not to respect him. “How did he manage that?”

“My grandmother was still alive, so she helped out a lot. When his business became successful, he was able to afford help. I had a nanny for about ten years. But he didn’t push me on her and forget about me. He always made time for me. Always came to all my games, always helped me with my homework. After a long day of work, he would spend the evening with me, and after I went to bed, he was back at work.” She pushed her food around during her quiet reflection. “He’s never made me feel like an unwanted child, not once…not ever.”

A pain formed in my chest, a complexity of emotion that I couldn’t digest. I resented her for having the unconditional love that hadn’t been given to me, and I was also disappointed that her father was such a prominent figure in her life…and she would always choose him above all else. “I can tell he’s a good father.”

“I never felt out of place around my friends, not having a mother. He somehow managed to be two parents at once. All I’ve ever wanted to do is make him proud because I’m so proud of him.”

“That’s why you want to run the show.” Now I understood her desire to be in this dangerous game. Because it was what her father wanted—and she wanted to be whatever he wanted her to be. Their closeness was so potent that it could be seen with the naked eye. Even when they were in different buildings across town from each other, their attachment was visible like a string. You couldn’t have one without the other.

That was the moment I knew we would never be anything more than…this.

A secret.

A dirty, fucking secret.

“I love the fact that he didn’t dismiss me from the role because I’m a daughter instead of a son. He’s not a misogynistic prick. He’s never involved himself in my personal life or had an issue with my adult relationships.”

I nearly scoffed.

“I want to prove that his decision was the right one.”

“But do you actually want this?” I asked. “Or do you just want what he wants?”

“Why wouldn’t I want it?” she asked before taking a drink of her wine.

“Like I’ve said before, it can be dangerous.”

“My father’s never had an issue.”

“That he’s told you about.” I was certain there were times when things got rough, when shit went down, but she was tucked into her bed, oblivious to the knives and gunfire. She had no idea how many lives he’d taken just to exert his power.

“You can disapprove of my decision all you want, Axel,” she said coldly. “I don’t care.”

But I did care—deeply. “If you weren’t in this line of business…what else would you be doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m curious.” I finished my food, the delicious taste still on my tongue. It was one of the best meals I’d ever had. Coming home to a home-cooked meal like that every night would be a great treat. “What about a chef?”

She smirked. “You liked the food, then?”

“Fuck yes, I did.” I grabbed another piece of chicken and dropped it on my plate. “I’ll eat your cooking any time. And I’ll eat you any time too…” I grinned before I took a bite of the chicken, still warm and juicy.

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