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I smile big and I don’t even try to hide it.
Dante has a small smile on his lips and shakes his head at me.
“Who?” he asks, and despite the small smile, his voice sounds exasperated. Bored.
Me! I mouth, and his eyes widen in a, Cut it out, Lilah kind of way.
“That fucking bitch who’s fucking Paulie!”
Uh uh uh. Wrong choice, honey, I think, rolling my lips and biting them as I watch Dante’s face get that stern, angry look on it. The same one that he got when that lawyer guy called me a bitch.
Even more, I know the thought that anyone thinks I’m fucking anyone but him definitely ratchets up his frustration.
Even if it’s just stupid Angela.
“That bitch?” he asks, and I wonder if she can feel the cold through the line.
I can feel it from where he’s standing in front of me. I lift my hand, moving it to his neck and playing with the hair there, twirling it in my fingers and letting my nails scrape his skin. One of the acrylic tips is loose and it’s just another reason for me to hate Angela fucking Sigano—she ruined my manicure.
“Delilah. I was at her stupid fucking bridal shower—"
“Why?”
“What?” Her voice is an irritating screech, and I wonder how anyone could find her attractive.
“Why were you there?” He slows the words down like she’s a child and I smile again because my man is funny without even trying.
“I was invited, Dante,” she says with a snarky attitude. I widen my eyes because I know for a fact that Dante only likes snark from me, and even then, mostly when he knows he can fuck the snark out of me in the near future.
“So send a fuckin’ gift and your condolences. All you do is bitch about the woman. Why spend an afternoon with her.”
“But everyone was going to be there,” she says with a whine. Dante sighs, tired of her.
“Why did you go, Angela?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
Of course she doesn’t. There’s probably just a single, lonely brain cell in her head.
“Of course you don’t. Fine. Let me tell you why. You went because you wanted to stand in a corner with all the women you think are your friends, making snide fuckin’ remarks about Lilah. Women who, sorry to break it to you, when you’re not around either a. Talk shit about you, or b. Hit on me. They don’t fucking like you. But they like gossip and they like drama, so they tolerate you.”
“What the fuck, Dante, I—”
“You do it with fuckin’ everyone, so I know you were doing it there. But really, what the fuck do you bring to the table, Angela?” I roll my lips into my mouth, biting them to fight a laugh and ignoring the tug at my eyebrow.
“Excuse me? My fa—”
“Your father is a washed-up boss who is fuckin’ broke, trying to sell his daughter to any made man who is willing.” Silence is on the line.
My eyes go wide and his meet mine, one hand moving to brush hair behind my shoulders. It’s like despite whatever conversation he’s having, he’s having another, much calmer, loving one with me.
“I can’t believe—"
“Don’t play dumb. I know most of the time it’s not a fuckin’ act but I know damn well when it comes to money, you’ve got sense. Know who has it, who doesn’t, and how to fuckin’ spend it. You spend mine just fine.”
More silence.
I scrunch my nose at him in a, You’ve been buying her shit? way, and he taps my nose.
