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Warmth washes over me with his words because somehow, I know he’s not just saying that.
I did.
I won the family over today.
“I’m blood,” I say, justifying why it happened so quickly, so easily.
“Doesn’t mean shit, Lilah. People see you, they know you’re a queen. Know you’re the right person to lead the family into the future, not because you’re blood, but because you’ve got . . . it.”
“Got it?”
“Something about you, Lilah. Can’t explain it but people look at you and know not to fuck with you. Know you’ve got power, that you’ve got the ability to tear a man down.”
I sit there in the passenger seat of the blacked-out car—an upgrade from my days of sitting in the back and being chauffeured around—and gape at the big man sitting next to me, his eyes on the road.
“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Marco,” I say after a few silent beats.
“I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever said to anyone, Delilah.” His words are deadpan, and I can’t help but smile.
“Fair enough. So why wouldn’t you just tell Dante that? That I should go alone, without him.” Marco scoffs.
“Have you ever tried to reason with your husband when he thinks that whatever his decision is is going to be the better one for you?”
I have.
It’s not easy.
“Fair enough,” I say.
“I wanted you to have today, Lilah. I’m loyal to Dante, loyal to Alfredo. But most of all, I’m loyal to you.”
I let that sink in, his words that mean so fucking much to me.
“My very first soldier,” I say quietly, tipping my smile in his direction. He doesn’t look away from the road when he speaks, but his words fill me with warmth all the same.
“An absolute honor to serve, Lilah.”
* * *
We park in the familiar lot of the gentleman’s club where my whole trajectory really started. I step out of the car, walking ahead of Marco, heels clicking on the asphalt as I head to the front door then clicking on tile as I walk through the club. I tip my chin at the few men I know, waving at the girls, and headed straight for the unmarked door that leads to Dante’s office.
But, of course, I don’t make it there.
I’m stopped barely twenty feet in, Dante’s broad shoulders and fiery face in full insane man on a rampage mode.
“Dante,” I say instantly, putting my hands up in an attempt at placating him.
“Delilah, get behind me.” His words are terse, angry.
“Dante—” I try, wanting to stop this trainwreck.
“Delilah!” His voice booms through the club despite the thumping bass.
“All good, princess. Told you it’s coming,” Marco says from behind me. I look back and he just smiles.
“Behind. Me. Delilah,” Dante says, reaching me and putting a hand on my waist, pushing me aside and then behind him.
I stand there, my hands on my hips, sighing with the knowledge that this will most definitely be my life from here on out.
