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The rest of the afternoon includes explaining every moment that occurred while I was in the Russo compound, from when I walked in to learning that I had actually met Alfredo as a child to being welcomed by the men of the family to pulling a gun on Sal. (That one made Dante both angry and proud, which to be honest, is how he normally is with me.)
After my show and tell, I watched as Marco explained his complicated history, how he started with the Russos and how he was recruited to infiltrate the Carluccios. That last part made Dante a little green around the gills, probably from wondering with panic if there were other men in the fold who were there with poor intentions.
I gently remind him when we are alone that once we settle in, we’ll have plenty of time to figure out who is loyal to us and who we need to deal with.
The “we” made him smile and with it, I watched the panic ease just a hair.
On Thursday morning, two days after the day I met the Russos, Marco takes me to the club for work. Two days of quiet planning, of keeping to our normal schedule and, unfortunately, not fucking because neither of us have cracked yet.
Instead, our nights have been quiet talks, Dante sneaking into my room as normal but sleep clothes staying on. Nights of gentle kisses, his fingers running thorough my hair, my fingers tracing the soft lines on his face, and talking.
Talking about everything and anything, so reminiscent of those days in the club, when I danced and he asked me questions.
I refuse to admit how much I secretly love it.
I’m at the club for the morning, working with the girls and getting the gossip as per usual, making sure to keep up my relationships with them, before I disappear into the back where I spend the rest of my day hanging out in Dante’s office. The key is to spend just long enough for anyone who needs to see me working before I can go spend time with the boss man.
But by two, I’m slipping out the back door and getting into the blacked-out Corvette with Dante.
His jaw is tight, his face angry, and even though I’m liking just being us, seeing him like that gives me just a bit of a heart flip, a hint of a throb in my clit.
I hope he doesn’t last too much longer, to be honest. And not because I care anymore if stupid Angela Sigano gets to touch my husband.
“I’m still pissed at you for this shit,” he says, interrupting my thoughts, eyes focused on the road, and I smile.
“You wouldn’t tell me your plan, so I made one of my own.”
“A dumb plan,” he says, and I shake my head.
“Just because it wasn’t your plan doesn’t make it dumb, Dante.”
“Driving to Newark? Dumb. Setting up a sketchy payphone call? Dumb. Getting intel from a man who tried to kidnap your sister and killed your father? Love you, babe, but dumb.” I roll my eyes.
“Whatever.”
“So what’s happening with this call?”
“Johnny has a request and he says he has intel for me. I’m not in the position to turn potential intel down, so I set up the call. Could be nothing, but could also pay off,” I say, knowing Dante isn’t going to love that, but we’re already committed.
He shakes his head at me in a way that is so similar to Marco, it makes me laugh.
And with that, he turns his face to me, smiles, and we’re off.
* * *
At four pm on the dot, I’m standing outside of a payphone in Newark, shivering.
“Maybe he changed his mind,” I say, looking around nervously when the phone doesn’t ring on time.
“Or maybe he’s in prison and calling at an exact time is hard,” Dante says, appeasing my anxieties, even if he thinks this is a shitty idea.
“How do you call people in prison?” I ask.
“You’ll never find out, Lilah.”
“You don’t plan on going to the big house anytime soon?” I ask with a smile.
“Lilah—”
