Page 165 of The Enslaved Duet

“Agreed,” I said before lightening my tone in an attempt to keep him from worrying about me. “But really, Dante, you don’t need another bullet wound. At this point, I think you are more metal than man.”

“Understand this and understand it well, Cosima,” he said in a voice like Alexander’s, in a way that reminded me the big teddy bear I knew he could be was also one of the most dangerous mafia men in the country. “I would take a hundred more bullets for you until my blood ran lead if it meant you were safe from harm.”

“Dante,” I exhaled as his words found purchase in my chest. It was only one word, his name, but I thought it relayed how very much I loved him and how very awed I was that he loved me that way in return.

Noel hadn’t ruined the hearts of all his sons.

Only Rodger and, maybe, Alexander.

The thought made my heart pinch, but I forged on.

“I have to go. I’ve been in here too long. Send Frankie and I promise I’ll call you when this is all over,si?”

“Si,tesoro mia,” he agreed in the same tone I’d used with him, one that ached with tenderness, vulnerable as a bruise. “Be safe.”

I ended the call, flushed the toilet, and ran the faucet before I slipped out the door and returned to the office. The unimpressed servant gave me a narrow glare, but I smiled jauntily at him as I resumed my cleaning duties.

Later, when I was finished my chores, and I was seated in front of the vanity being beautified by a woman who spoke only Russian, my phone vibrated, and I excused myself once more to the restroom.

No one stopped or spotted me as I crept down the stairs and out the back door.

Dante’s right-hand man and the only member of his crew that I was ever allowed to interact with greeted me with a large, boyish smile.

“Frankie,” I greeted, kissing both his stubbled cheeks.

“Cosima. These are ready to go. They record video until they reach their max storage point. I didn’t have time to set up a live feed, so these will have to do for now. Will you be able to retrieve them at some point?”

I nodded, taking the dime-sized cameras in my hand. “Thank you for this, Frankie. Tell Dante not to worry.”

His lips twisted in a grimaced smile. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen with you in the lion’s den, but I’ll pass that along to give the other boys a good laugh.”

“I know what I’m doing.” I’m not sure why I felt the need to tell the almost stranger that when it was really every single other man in my life who needed to hear it. Still, Frankie respected me enough to go somber for a moment and scrutinize me with his wet, black eyes. Eyes that had seen death and blood, corruption and greed so big it swallowed people’s entire lives.

It was those eyes that blinked, then smiled at me. “Sure, babe, I believe it.”

I swallowed thickly, surprised by how much I’d needed someone to have faith in me, and then punched him lightly in the shoulder before heading back inside.

I planted one in the bedroom I’d been given to use to get ready for the night. Another in the hallway on the second story and another in the open doorway of Ashcroft’s room. There was one pressed to the wall behind a ficus plant in the entryway and then another, finally, in Ashcroft’s office in the eye of black marble carved wolf.

I placed it there as I moved toward Ashcroft where he sat leaned back in his chair like the entitled lord he was.

“You look beautiful,” he praised as his hot, greasy gaze smeared over all the skin exposed by my gold satin lingerie.

I smiled at him with words in my eyes only Alexander had ever been able to read;I am so much more than my beauty, and one day soon, you will find that out.

Alexander

Eighteen hours after Cosima had abandoned me for the second time, my anger had yet to abate. I could feel it coursing through my veins as thick and chemical as opium in my bloodstream. Even Riddick, whom I had finally identified as my closest friend in the last four years, was careful around me in the hours after she’d left, barely speaking a word unless it was to confirm travel plans.

To say I was royally aggravated by her flight was a gross understatement. I was both angry with her for running and with myself for believing she would obey out of hand.

It had been four long years since Cosima had come to heel for me, and she’d spent countless hours in therapy, in meditation classes, reading self-help books written by self-aggrandizing gurus to get over her compulsion to serve me.

I should have known.

But my elation had made me sloppy. I was a virgin on her wedding night, knowing I was finally going to receive the gratification I so deserved, the union I’d worked toward for years, and I’d underestimated the fact that my bride was still a reluctant one.

She did not know the myriad of ways my life had changed since she had up and left me the first time.