Page 26

Adele

It’s a place to disappear.

Sophie's words echo in my head. The logical part of me knows she's telling the truth as I piece together everything that has happened since last night, but the stubborn part of me refuses to accept it.

Who would choose to live like this, and why? Does it mean the people within this mansion are cut off from the world?

I glance back to see Antonella retrieving something from the oven. She hums a tune that sounds suspiciously like a funeral dirge, yet her floral loungewear clashes cheerfully with the somber melody. She shoots me a kind smile before returning to her task.

My gaze shifts to Sophie. Faint smudges under her eyes hint at a sleepless night, but her skin still radiates health, her cheeks rosy with the glow of pregnancy. Like me, she's barefoot and she's paired Nico’s shirt with soft leggings.

They look like a normal family, not a crime syndicate living in a luxurious black hole.

“Does everyone live here?” It’s certainly big enough to house a small village.

“Here?” Sophie’s face takes on a look of mock horror. “Oh, hell no. Only Nico’s parents live here. Although, after what happened yesterday, Nico has been hinting about me staying here until the twins are born.”

My eyes make a beeline for her stomach again, and I try not to wince. I can’t imagine what she’s going through with a twin pregnancy. And then it occurs to me that I don’t even know what or how many I’m carrying.

Shit! I need a scan, pronto.

Sophie, oblivious to my mini-meltdown, continues. “I was fully prepared to kick up a huge fuss, but maybe it won’t be so bad being cooped up here. I’m sure we can both find enough trouble to get into.”

Her open friendliness pulls at me, and for some reason, I find myself trusting her. “Sophie, I really can’t stay here. I’ve got work and a dad back in Boston. They’re expecting me at work tomorrow.”

Sophie nods thoughtfully. “How long did Dante say you’d be here for?”

Good question. “I haven’t had time to . . . talk to him.” We’ve been too busy doing other things.

I look away to hide the flush in my cheeks, but not before catching the knowing glint in her eyes.

“You know, Nico and I just got in a few hours ago, so I’ve not had a chance to speak to Dante properly either. He and Nico are talking now, which is code for someone’s probably getting a black eye, but he’ll soon be free to talk to you.”

“Sophie, what does it mean to be ‘off-grid’?” I ask.

“What?”

“I heard Dante tell Sal to put me ‘off-grid’ or something.”

Sophie’s eyes widen, her full lips pouting into an O.

“What does that mean?” I insist.

She looks as if she’s debating telling me. Then she suddenly pulls me into another hug. “Dante can be impulsive, alright, but his instincts are never wrong. If he tells you to stay here, I’d do it, Addy.”

Her answer does nothing to reassure my peaking nerves, but before I can press further, Antonella speaks up.

“Okay, enough with all the hushed voices.” She gestures to the large round dining table with half a dozen chairs around it. “Let’s sit down, have food, coffee, and some proper gossip, shall we?”

I'd prefer tea. But asking for it might invite questions about why. Or it might not. Still, it’s better to keep things simple and accept a coffee instead. As soon as we settle around the massive kitchen table, Sophie starts to give me a crash course of who is who among the family and the house staff but she doesn’t get far before the older woman gently cuts in.

“So, Adele, tell us a bit about yourself. What do you do?”

And this is where it all goes south. “I work at the DA’s office in Boston.”

A long silence follows, during which I wait for the other shoe to drop.

Antonella, who paused in the process of sipping her coffee, carefully puts her mug back down. “The Boston DA’s office?” she asks with an overly bright smile. “That's amazing.”

“What Mama V is wondering is,” Sophie pipes up, her eyes twinkling, “what your job role is and specifically, where you stand in a certain man’s trial.”

“Sofia Lauren!” Antonella scolds.

“What, Mama V?” Sophie laughs. “I’m a therapist. And you’re the definition of wearing your thoughts on your sleeve. Anyway, Addy, where do you stand with Tommy Martelli?” Sophie prompts me.

I shake my head. “I’m just one of the forensic guys. I’m supposed to be neutral and not have an opinion either way.”

The tension in Antonella’s shoulders reduces a fraction, but I can still see the furrow of concern on her brow.

Sophie leans forward, her elbows resting on the table. “Forensics. It could be worse, Mama V. At least Addy isn’t on the prosecuting team. Not that Dante would care. He’d eat that shit up.”

“Where did you and Dante meet?” Antonella continues, her plate of pastries forgotten.

Before I can respond, the deep baritone that never fails to send thrills through me, cuts through the room. “Boston.”

I turn to see Dante standing in the doorway. His shirt looks wrinkled around the collar, and his hair is unbound and tousled, but that doesn’t detract from his allure. My breath catches in my throat as our eyes meet. Electricity crackles between us. His eyes look almost as stormy as they did the last time I saw them.

When he was deep inside me.

I quickly look away, subtly clearing my throat and desperately wishing I had Sophie’s olive complexion as I feel my cheeks heat and my heart rate kick up. It would be so embarrassing to react to him this way in front of his family.

Out of the side of my eye, I see that instead of coming to the table, Dante heads straight for the glass wall and sits on the counter beside it.

Behind him, two men who I assume are Dante’s brother, Nico, and his father file into the kitchen. I’m struck by how stunning they are. Tall and muscular with jawlines that could cut glass, they look almost identical, and as if they’ve walked off a runway. The Vitelli genes are clearly something special.

Dante is the bigger of the two brothers, but Nico exudes an aura of danger and authority that instantly sends a shiver of fear down my spine.

Vito is an older version of his sons and carries himself with a quiet dignity, his presence commanding respect.

“So good for you boys to join us for breakfast,” Antonella chirps, then puts an arm around me. “Carissimo,” she says to her husband, “look who I found. It’s Adele.”

Vito comes to me and I stand. His blue eyes are somber when he kisses both my cheeks.

“Welcome to our home, Adele. I’m Vito.” His eyes look like they are saying more, but since I’m not skilled in reading the subtle expressions of made men I’ve never met, I simply smile and murmur a soft thank you. He gives his wife a quick kiss, then sits at the table while she fetches more food.

“Nico.” Nico simply acknowledges me with the barest hint of a smile and a curt nod, then makes a beeline for his wife. I thought his greeting was a tad frosty, although I can’t blame him. He’s the Don of the Chicago Outfit and, therefore, entitled to be as grumpy as he wants, I suppose. Not to mention that I more or less killed one of his men yesterday.

But then I see another side to Nico when he wraps an arm around Sophie and takes her mouth in a kiss that is so not fit for public, although no one else seems to care that they have their tongues down each other’s throats.

Vito watches me silently. His gaze is warm and kind, but I don’t miss his slightly furrowed brows. I can’t decide if it’s puzzlement or irritation.

Everyone else has taken a place at the table except Dante, who seems more content to perch on the counter across the room, staring at me. Or rather, staring at his shirt on me.

Antonella puts a fresh plate of pastries on the table and then moves to the coffee machine, then begins handing out coffees to the men. Nico’s is black, while Vito accepts a flat white from her.

“So, Boston, did you say? When was this?” Antonella presses.

I get a feeling that everyone at this table already knows enough about me, but I reply. “It was back in our final year at LBU. Dante, you came over to see Kira perform, didn’t you?” I say, trying to shift the spotlight away from me.

Dante unfolds from his perch, then reaches up into a cupboard and takes out a teabag from a small tin. My eyes follow Dante’s movements as he pours in steaming water then adds some honey.

“I saw Addy standing by the wall, trying to be invisible,” Dante says as if to himself. “But it was quite the opposite. She stood out to me like a fucking beacon. So fucking stunning.”

He comes to the table and places a perfectly brewed green tea in front of me before returning to his spot. My face heats up at that simple yet intimate gesture.

I notice a soft look enter Antonella’s face while Sophie simply smiles like a Cheshire cat. Nico’s face remains unreadable, while Vito’s has deepened into a scowl as if the milk in his coffee has just curdled.

“Dante, come on. I was dressed like a boy,” I point out, trying to diffuse the thickening tension.

His gaze, which hasn’t once left mine, heats up even more. “Exactly. Spellbinding. Sexy as fuck.”

Everyone else recedes into the background, and I find myself unable to look away from Dante, not even when Vito clears his throat loudly. And not when Antonella finally hands Dante his drink.

I notice Dante’s coffee is in a much larger mug.

Why did she make his larger? What’s in it? Why is he not having any food? Suddenly it seems like the most important thing right now.

How could I date the man for three months and have no idea how he takes his coffee or that he doesn’t eat breakfast? So what on earth did we talk about?

Mostly, me.

Dante’s sole focus was on me. And I was too busy enjoying the thrill of his attention to want to know more about him. Or perhaps I was too afraid of the danger I sensed was lurking beneath the surface and didn’t want to find out?

Partly out of curiosity and partly wanting to take the spotlight off me again, I suddenly blurt out to Dante, “How do you take it?”

“This?” He raises his mug, and I nod.

Dante takes a large sip of his coffee, then cocks his head and mouths, “Come and see.”

“Now?” I whisper.

His gaze sharpens into a command that has everything within me snapping to obey. My pulse starts to race as I’m caught in Dante’s sensual web. The room completely disappears and as if in a trance, I stand and cross the kitchen to Dante.