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It’s panic. It’s all-consuming regret. It’s so much more than fucking your secret lover on a desk to appease her because she’s mad she couldn’t be the one on your arm last night.
In there is a man desperate to make me understand how much I mean to him. In all sincerity, I see clearly how much his secret kills him, and how honest the words he’s speaking are.
He can’t breathe or function without me.
He is crazy for me.
He would burn his world down and let me use the ashes to make diamonds for my crown.
“Dante,” I whisper, but that’s all I need to say.
“Yeah, baby,” he says back, and then his lips are on mine, and his thumb presses down, and I come, my arms and legs tightening as I do, his groan muffled by my lips, dragging another jolt from me as he follows me over the edge.
And just like that, we’re on the same page.
* * *
“What’s gonna happen with that guy?” I ask, kicking my legs on his desk. Dante has cleaned me up, redressed me, and then came back with a drink. He told me I wasn’t allowed to leave his office until I lost the smile “that you always get when I fuck you good,” but I like to think he just wanted to steal some extra time with me.
Not that I’m complaining.
“What guy?”
“The one in here before. Bad combover?”
“Marco handled him. I would have, but you had that look in your eyes like you wanted to set me on fire, and you needed me more.” I pause, waiting a long moment and trying to decide if I should tell him what flitted in my mind just now, remembering the look on his face.
“That was hot, you know.”
“What?”
“You defending my honor. Making a grown man shit his pants because he called me a nasty name.”
“That’s my job, Delilah.”
“Yeah, I know. Big bad mafia boss in training, gotta keep everyone in line.” He smiles and shakes his head, walking over to me and stepping between my legs.
“No, my job is to defend you. But also, meant to talk to you about that. When shit is going down, Lilah, you do not peek around Marco’s fucking shoulder to watch when he’s covering you, for the love of God.”
“I was fine. Nothing was going to happen,” I say, my hand moving the hunk of hair from his forehead. His hands go to my cheeks, pulling me in and pressing a soft kiss to my lips.
“You’ll put me in an early grave, yeah? Please. Things ever get crazy, I need to know you’re safe.”
“I’m safe, Dante.”
“Do you know how to protect yourself if something goes down?” I open my mouth, and he cuts me off. “For real. Against real people trying to hurt you. I’m not talking about that shield you have up, Lilah. Not talking about your sharp tongue. If someone were to come for you, do you know how to defend yourself?” I scrunch my nose, knowing he won’t like the answer I have.
“I’ll take a kickboxing class or something.”
“Do you know how to shoot a gun?”
“My dad hates guns,” I say, and Dante laughs out loud. “What? He does. It was one of the platforms he ran on.”
“Your father got himself so deep in illegal betting that he tried to sell out his daughter.” I blink a few times, unable to answer because he’s not wrong.
Then I laugh because, again, he’s not wrong.
“I’ll take you to a range.”
