Page 11

Chapter 11

SALVATORE

Dante pulls my suit jacket around himself to hide the stain on his pants, and everything about it makes me want to beat my chest like a caveman. My jacket around him, my mouth leaving his lipstick smeared and stained, my hands and growled words in his ear creating the dazed look that’s still lingering in his eyes hours later. The only thing that could make it any better would be if it was my cum all over him instead of his own. But I’m hoping to remedy that in just a few minutes.

His heels click noisily against the polished floor of the hotel lobby. He doesn’t try to shrug off my hand on the back of his neck, but I’m not under the illusion that one semi-exhibitionist handjob is enough to tame my angel brat. It’s intoxicating to see him subdued by my touch even for a few hours though.

We step onto the empty elevator and once the doors slide closed, Dante reaches back and untucks my pistol from his pants.

“Here.” He hands it to me.

The familiar weight of it in my hand feels like having a missing limb reattached.

“Generous of you, Angioletto.” I tuck it into my own waistband for now. “And my phone?” I arch an eyebrow.

“I guess I don’t have to worry about you calling in backup to rescue you and take me out now.” He pulls my phone out of his pocket and hands that over too.

The elevator doors slide open, and Dante turns another glare on me.

“If you try to pick me up and carry me into the room again, I’ll knee you in the balls,” he warns.

I tug him closer and slowly drag my tongue along the seam of his lips, tasting the lingering flavor of his martini.

“I love when you talk dirty to me.” I walk him backward out of the elevator, towards our room. Before I can even fish the room key out of my pocket, my phone starts to vibrate with an incoming call. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked for my phone back yet after all.”

He chuckles and reaches into my pocket for the key while I check my phone. Lorenzo’s number lights up the screen. Real life kicking down the door of this fantasy honeymoon I was hoping to live in for a few more hours at least. I sigh and hit the button to accept the call.

“Hello,” I answer, following Dante into our room. He doesn’t waste any time, shrugging off my jacket and leaving it in a heap on the floor. His top comes off next, with more care as he struts through the suite towards the bedroom, my eyes eagerly devouring the slender lines of his bare back and the sway of his hips.

“Where the fuck are you?” Lorenzo’s voice in my ear reluctantly forces my attention away from the private strip show for just a second before I follow my new husband into the bedroom.

“Alessio didn’t tell you?” I’m sure he can hear the distraction in my voice as I lean against the doorway and watch Dante shimmy out of his ruined pants with his back to me. The white silk underwear underneath clings to his round, perky ass cheeks sinfully. As he bends over to take off his shoes, I entertain the fantasy of pressing him down onto the bed and licking him through the panties, soaking them with my saliva as I tease his hole.

“Salvatore,” Lorenzo’s growl snaps me back to the phone call again.

“Sorry, boss, I’m a little distracted. I told Alessio to let you know I was going out of town for a few days.” I drag my hand over my mouth to wipe away the smile that’s already forming. “I’m in Los Vespar with Dante. We got married.”

Lorenzo is absolutely silent on the other side of the line for several long seconds.

“I thought Alessio was being a smartass,” he admits with a sigh that’s the equivalent of an emotional outburst for him. He’s quiet for another minute and then he clears his throat. “Was it… Dante wanted this, right?”

I bark out a laugh and my Angioletto looks over his shoulder at me with a raised eyebrow as he pulls his stupid ‘beam me up, Space Daddy’ shorts on. They’re almost as distracting as the panties, leaving the bottom swell of his ass cheeks hanging out.

“What, do you think I drugged him, kidnapped him, and then threatened to shoot him if he didn’t cooperate and marry me?”

Dante flips me his middle finger and I chuckle.

“Did you?” Lorenzo asks seriously.

“Relax, boss, the whole thing was his idea. He’s obsessed with me.” I smirk and wink at Dante, who rolls his eyes.

“Fine, I don’t have the energy to figure out which parts of that were bullshit. I hate to interrupt your honeymoon, but I need you back here.”

I rub the back of my neck. “It’s, like, a sixteen-hour drive.”

“Perfect, then I’ll see you at our five o’clock meeting tomorrow.”

Good thing I only had one martini. It’s going to be a long fucking night.

“Sure thing, Enz, I’ll be there.”

“Good. And congratulations.”

I grin again even though Lorenzo can’t see me. “Thanks, boss.”

DANTE

“I guess I can see why you’ve never bothered to take a vacation if Lorenzo’s just going to call you back at the drop of a hat anyway.” I adjust my seat and reach into the bag of snacks I insisted on before we left the city to pull out a package of Twizzlers.

“It’s not exactly a nine-to-five job.”

I roll my window down a few inches and recline with my bare feet on the dashboard and the desert breeze whipping through my hair.

“Probably makes relationships hard.” I bite into a Twizzler and chew it slowly, closing my eyes and relaxing into the feeling of the car’s vibrations.

“More like impossible,” he mutters in agreement. “But if you’re worried about getting enough of my time and attention, Angel, I promise I’ve never had a better excuse to find some work-life balance than knowing I’ll be coming home to you at night.”

I inhale sharply, a chunk of candy getting stuck in my throat. I sputter a cough to dislodge it.

“I have my own apartment, Sal,” I remind him, tossing the Twizzlers back into the bag at my feet so I don’t accidentally choke on another one.

“I’m sure you’ll find your landlord to be extremely accommodating when you tell him you’re breaking your lease,” he says with a dry confidence.

“Why would I break my lease?” Although, come to think of it, the thought of living there knowing Don’s henchman has already stalked me and broken in isn’t exactly appealing.

“Because my place is bigger, and I own it instead of renting. If you’d rather get a house outside the city, we can talk about that long term.”

“Long term?” I echo. “Did you hit your head or something?”

He chuckles but doesn’t respond. Instead, he changes the subject again. “We have a long, quiet drive ahead of us. Seems like the perfect time for you to tell me about this stalker of yours.”

My stomach clenches and my muscles tighten instantly, my fingers curling reflexively into fists.

“I don’t want to get into it.”

“You came to me for protection, but you won’t tell me who I’m protecting you from?” He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, frustration dripping from his usually patient voice. “You can see where you’re making this difficult for me, right, Angel?”

I turn my face towards the window and focus on the dark outline of the mountains in the distance, and the blanket of stars overhead. For years I hoped that by never speaking his name out loud or talking about what happened, it would all just fade away, that it would turn into a foggy nightmare you can’t quite remember.

“His name is Don Moreno. He’s currently in prison, set for release in two and a half weeks. I don’t know who he got to take those pictures and break into my apartment. That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

“Has he hurt you, Angioletto? Did he touch you?” Salvatore’s question is guttural, raising goose bumps on my skin and, strangely, settling the quiver in my stomach. He doesn’t just want to protect me, he wants to avenge me. Something warm and almost affectionate swells inside me and, without looking, I reach over to put my hand on his thigh.

Lies from years past burn on my tongue. Half-truths that created every bit of the situation I’m in, but that I can’t find it in myself to regret for one second. I did what I had to do, and I would do it again. My knuckles ache with the memory of justice only partially delivered. I guess if I had one regret about what happened, it would be that I left him breathing at all.

“No,” I answer.

The silence is filled with questions I know Salvatore wants to ask. But he keeps them to himself, and I like him a little bit more for not pushing, for respecting that I don’t want to dredge up the past any more than I have to.

“You’re going to have to make space in your closet for my clothes,” I murmur, still looking out the window. “I have a lot.”

He laughs and it sounds like agreement, and he drives a little faster down the dark desert road towards home.