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“Jesus Christ, Dante! Was that fucking necessary?” I ask, my hands on my hips but not stepping in. Marco steadies on his feet, his hand going to his face which is already swelling, a smile on his lips as he works his jaw.
Well, at least it’s not broken.
“All good, princess. Told you, knew it was coming.”
I stare at them both. Dante’s jaw is still firm with irritation but a little less so, like the aggression knocked out some of his unhinged rage. Marco smiles like he thinks this whole damn thing is just hilarious.
“Fucking men,” I mumble then turn on my heel, walking toward Dante’s office and shaking my head.
Both men chuckle as I walk off before they follow me.
My life.
* * *
“Wow.” I look around Dante’s office minutes later and note papers all over the place and pens thrown about. One is even lodged into the drywall next to the door. “This looks worse than when I had my meltdown in here,” I say of the time I destroyed Dante’s office when I first found out his real identity.
I look behind me and see Dante still has a bit of his angry face plastered on, but Marco has a small tilt to his lips, despite the quickly swelling jaw. I cringe when I see it, thinking I should have someone grab some ice.
“When I learn that my wife is going to go speak with the Don of another family while I sit here, twiddling my fucking thumbs, and that my second is the one who took her, I get a little fucking pissed.”
“Marco’s my second now,” I say with a smile, and I’m pretty sure he growls at me.
Marco laughs.
Seriously, I think the man might just have a death wish.
Or at the very least, way too much trust in Dante.
Shaking my head, I move to perch my ass on the edge of Dante’s desk, swinging my feet and like magic, the remaining hint of his anger disappears.
It’s like when he sees me sitting here, he remembers all the times he’s fucked me here—and all the times he’s probably planning to.
I just smile back at him.
“You were gone for four hours, Delilah. Got a text at seven thirty, then nothing. Then a text from Marco twenty minutes ago saying you were on your way back to me.”
Normally, I’d feel bad.
But I was with Marco. Dante knows the man loves me almost as much as he does, though in a truly platonic, brotherly way.
Nothing bad was ever going to happen to me.
“Aw, honey, were you worried about me?” I ask with pouty lips, fighting a smile. Dante looks a lot less amused.
“Delilah, I swear to God, this is not the right time.”
“Alright, you grump.” I roll my eyes. “You know nothing bad was going to happen. I was with Marco.”
“I know that last night, you told me Marco said he doesn’t work for me and implied he works for Alfredo. I know that your family does not like the Carluccios, partially because my father had yours killed. I know you went to go meet with the rival family of ours.”
I love that—how he says ours like the Carluccio family is already mine, like we’ve never not been a pair.
“You’re forgetting, husband of mine, that the Russo family is my family.”
“You’ve never met them.”
“That’s actually . . . not true.” I realize now I forgot to tell Dante about the first time I walked into the contracting company. “Before I walked into Jerzy Girls, I went to Russo Contracting. Met some bitch of a woman who, apparently, was just jealous of my mother. She gave me some shit, made me second-guess some things, then one of the Capos came and made it worse.”
