Vault - Inferno Pt. 2

by Leigh, T. K.

  But there was a louder voice, one that sounded oddly like Mila, telling me if I didn’t get answers, I’d regret it. That I’d always wonder what if. That I needed to pursue whatever this was until the end instead of running away because I was scared of what this man — this stranger — brought out in me.

  Blowing out a breath, I briefly closed my eyes as I raised my hand to the door, stopping myself mid-knock. After all, Dante had given me a set of keys. Perhaps I needed the advantage of the element of surprise. Reaching into my purse, I found the key and inserted it into the lock, pushing the door open.

  “Antonio?” Dante’s deep voice called out the second I entered the foyer. My legs no longer worked, my heart thumping in my chest, my skin heating. That voice… Why did it affect me like it did, paralyzing me, turning me to putty? “Sei tu? L’hai trovata?”

  Footsteps grew closer as I remained frozen in place. Before I could retreat and shove my time with Dante into the abyss of my memory, his impressive frame appeared in front of me, immediately coming to a halt. He blinked repeatedly, as if unsure he was seeing correctly. Then his expression relaxed, a weight visibly lifting off his shoulders.

  “Eleanor,” he breathed, the way my name rolled off his tongue sounding like a prayer. He pulled me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. “I was so worried something happened. I’ve had Antonio doing everything he could to track you down. It was stupid of me to let you leave, especially with Brock roaming the streets. I called your hotel to see if you went back there, but no one was able to help. God, I was so worried.”

  I remained completely still, his arms no longer making me feel cherished, admired, revered. His embrace only served as a reminder of his betrayal, of the lies he fed me just to get me into bed. I’d always kept my emotions under tight control, even when something upset me. It was how my mother raised me. Emotions made you vulnerable, so never show them. Never give anyone a reason to think you were weak. But what Dante had done… It hurt more than my parents’ lack of love. More than walking in on Brock cheating on me. More than never having the ability to make a single decision about my personal life.

  “You asshole.” I pushed out of his embrace, landing a hard slap to his cheek before he could react. There was a pounding in my head and ears as adrenaline washed over me, making me blind to everything except the hurt his lies caused me. My muscles tensed, my jaw tight, my neck throbbing. “You used me!” I reeled back, about to slap him again, but he grabbed my wrist, pulling my body against his.

  “You’re right, Eleanor!” he bellowed, the agony and regret covering his face piercing my soul.

  I’d never seen someone look at me with so much need, so much respect, so much suffering. It made me want to wrap my arms around him and comfort him, but at the same time run away and never see him again. I didn’t know what to make of my conflicting emotions, like my brain was in a savage battle with an unknown force.

  “You should hate me! Hurt me!”

  Rage filling me, I shoved him over and over, banging my fists against his chest. He did nothing to discourage me. With every strike I made, he delivered a self-inflicted blow of his own.

  “I deserve it! Give me your pain! Your anger! Your hate! I’ll take it all!”

  Screaming in frustration, I pushed away, my chest heaving. I peered at him through bitter eyes, my fists clenched. “You screwed me.” I shook my head, my expression heavy with disgust. “We did all those things, and you were lying to me the entire time.”

  “No!” he declared passionately, closing the gap between us, his face just inches from my own. I made no move to retreat, still addicted to the heat of his body so close to mine, despite his lies. “I may have left some things out, but I never lied to you.”

  “Bullshit,” I spat. “All those lines about fate bringing us together—”

  “I meant every word.” He clutched my face in his hands, the fire in his gaze rendering me speechless, powerless to move, to look away…to hate him, regardless of how much he hurt me. “Every. Fucking. Word.”

  He crushed his lips to mine, his tongue plunging into my mouth as he pulled my body flush with his. I stilled, taken aback by his unexpected invasion. I didn’t want to feel the fluttering in my chest, the tingle on my skin, the yearning in my core. I tried to fight it, to tell my brain I didn’t want this, that I only came here to get answers, then leave. But as his lips moved against mine, his hands caressing me, his arms around my body, making me feel more cared for and desired than anything ever had, I could no longer resist the enigmatic pull Dante had on me. I cursed my traitorous body for succumbing to his touch, for being so easily manipulated by a man who lied to me.

  He tore away, his eyes untamed as they locked with mine. “There was just a different reason at first,” he explained, his tone softening.

  “What? So you could fuck me and make your brother jealous?” I squinted at him with animosity. “Well, I have bad news for you. Brock never cared about me,” I said through the lump in my throat. “I was just a nice, respectable girl he could show off, one who would help improve his approval ratings.” I wrapped my arms around myself against the sudden chill that enveloped me. I wished it hadn’t taken me ten years to see the truth that had been staring at me since the beginning. “That’s all.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about making him jealous,” Dante responded firmly. “I don’t care about him. I never have and never will. I care about you.” The fury in his eyes and voice sent a jolt to my core, igniting me. I’d never met anyone who spoke with such passion, such devotion, such…honesty? That couldn’t be right. But the truth remained… No one in my life had ever fought for me as fiercely as Dante was at that moment.

  Every emotion I’d experienced the past few days came crashing down. I lunged for him, grabbing the back of his neck, urging his lips back to mine. His hands were everywhere, pulling me closer, our kiss frantic, but not nearly deep enough. He gripped my hips, lifting me up, forcing my legs around his waist. Our lips never parting, he carried me toward a large, reclaimed wood desk by the built-in bookcases, setting me down on it. I tightened my legs around him, desperate to lose myself in him, but never wanting to be with him again. I felt bi-polar, as if my emotions were on a tumultuous seesaw, the swing of my ups and downs unyielding.

  I pulsed against him, tugging at his pants, craving the feeling of his skin on mine. I loosened the grip my legs had on him and lowered his zipper, freeing him. Growling, he slid his finger up my shorts, lifting my panties, and circled me. I threw my head back, moving with the rhythm he set. I didn’t feel like myself. This wasn’t what I’d come here for. But I’d grown powerless to resist the pull Dante had on me.

  “Tell me to stop.”

  I met his eyes, his expression pleading with me. A strange combination of disgust and unmatched need pushed me forward when my brain told me to step on the brakes. My skin tingled, my insides aching for him. I couldn’t tell him to stop any more than I could have walked away from him after our first night together.

  “Tell me you hate me! That you don’t want me! That you never want to see me again!”

  I shook my head, remaining mute as I unbuttoned my shorts and slid out of them. I knew I should be feeling all those things, but I didn’t. “I won’t lie to you, Dante.” I hooked my legs around his waist, pulling him to me.

  “Goddammit,” he hissed through a clenched jaw, thrusting into me.

  I screamed out, wrapping my arms around his neck, holding on as he fucked me harder than he had before. I felt lightheaded, as if I were in an alternate universe, as if this were all a dream. But if it were a dream, I wouldn’t feel the spine-tingling sensations rushing over every inch of my body. Only Dante had ever made me experience something so addicting, so pure, so heavenly. This was wrong, but I’d never felt more alive.

  He held my face tightly in his large hands, his tongue invading my mouth again before he tore away. “I knew who you were the instant I laid eyes on you in the airport lounge,” he grunted. “I
do believe it was fate we were on the same flight. I tried to talk to you so many times, but I had no idea what to say.”

  “You didn’t seem to have any problem,” I bit back harshly. The renewed hurt of his deceit only made me increase my motions, a fever rushing over me. I grabbed at him, digging my nails into his scalp, wanting to make him bleed for what he’d done. I wanted him, yearned for him, but I needed him to feel my wrath, feel the pain he’d caused me.

  “I knew I had just one shot with you,” he replied, not missing a beat. “Just one, Eleanor. Then you told me you’d left him at the altar. That’s when I knew… You didn’t have to say anything else. I knew they’d used you just like they used everyone else.”

  “Like you used me?” I tightened my legs, pulling him closer. It still wasn’t enough. I craved his touch like an addict craves her next fix. He would be the death of me, but I got high off his potency.

  “I gave you a chance to walk away.” His breathing grew labored as his muscles hardened. “If I wanted, I could have fucked you that first night.”

  “You’re a real gentleman then, aren’t you?” I leaned my head back, closing my eyes as fire built in my core, my stomach clenching. “And what could possibly be so important that you thought it was a good idea to use another person?” I asked, digging my nails deeper and deeper into Dante’s skin.

  “Eleanor…” He buried his head in my neck, running his tongue across my flesh. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the sensation of his body against mine as he continued driving into me with more fever, more intensity, more viciousness, both of us using this act to fight the demons who’d been plaguing us for years.

  “Tell me, Dante. Please.” My voice quivered, my eyes rolling back into my head as waves of pleasure overtook me. I tried to fight it, not wanting Dante to see how much he affected me, but it was impossible. I flew higher and higher, my mind going hazy.

  He tightened his grip on my hips, thrusting into me with more intensity, a fire building inside him that only I could extinguish. “Because James killed my daughter!” he cried out, his body shaking as he came undone inside me.

  I stilled, my eyes flinging wide open as his confession filled the air between us. His words were like a bucket of ice water thrown on me. I had no idea what to say, how to react, what to think. Dante had a daughter? And his own father killed her? If I had a thousand questions before, I had ten times that many now, including why there was no mention of this daughter in any of the research I’d done on him. Was this just another lie? For some reason, I didn’t think that was the case.

  “Dante,” I whispered, getting his attention. He pulled his head from the crook of my neck, his chest heaving. “I…” I didn’t know what to say.

  “I’ll let you go clean up.” He pulled out and stepped back, readjusting himself. His expression flattened, the fever and hunger in his eyes disappearing, leaving a blank look covering his face. “I’m sure you have a lot more questions. And I’m happy to answer all of them truthfully and honestly, even if it ends with you walking out that door and never speaking to me again. Just promise me one thing.”

  I blinked, still feeling like I had been blindsided. “What’s that?”

  “Just give me the opportunity to tell you the whole story. It’s not as simple as my knowing who you were when we slept together the first time. Okay?” He looked at me with earnest.

  “Okay,” I responded in a small voice.

  “Okay,” he repeated, holding his hand out for me.

  I grabbed onto it and he helped me down from the desk. I pulled my shorts back up, my skin tingling from his phantom touch, and walked past him. Just as I was about to climb up the stairs, I glanced over my shoulder.

  “What was her name?”

  He straightened and faced me, his brows furrowed.

  “Your daughter. What was her name?”

  Tension rolled off his body. “Lilliana. Lilly,” he said softly. “Her name was Lilly.”

  I offered a small smile, my gaze remaining locked with his. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  He closed his eyes, hanging his head. “Me, too.”

  Chapter Four

  “I made lunch,” Dante announced when I walked into the living room after a longer than normal shower, my brain a whirlwind of questions and scenarios.

  “I’m not so sure I want to know what your idea of lunch is if you consider veal to be a midnight snack,” I jested nervously as he led me to the veranda, where he had set out two plates on the outdoor dining table. All the comfort and ease I’d begun to feel around him had disappeared. Now I felt as if I were meeting Dante for the first time.

  “Just some grilled salmon over a Mediterranean cucumber salad. Nothing too fancy.” He winked, holding my chair out for me.

  “Yeah. Sure,” I scoffed. “Most people are happy with a sandwich for lunch.”

  “Haven’t you figured it out by now?” He took the seat across from me. “I’m not most people.”

  “I gathered as much.” I placed my napkin on my lap, staring at the food in front of me. I’d barely eaten anything all day, but food was the last thing I wanted right now.

  “Eat,” Dante urged, noticing my reluctance to pick up my knife and fork.

  “I’m not that hungry,” I insisted, my stomach rolling.

  “Just take one bite. For me.” I met his gaze, a twinkle in his eyes.

  Picking up my fork with a sigh, I sliced into the salmon, bringing it to my mouth. I took a bite, the buttery flavor dancing on my taste buds. Dante had a way of making a food I normally didn’t think twice about taste unlike anything I’d ever eaten.

  “It’s delicious,” I commented before taking another bite.

  “Good.” He sliced into his own salmon, silence stretching between us as we ate. The only sounds were that of the city of Rome bustling six floors below and the occasional chirping bird.

  After a few moments, he spoke again. “You were constantly checking the clock on the far wall of the lounge.”

  I lifted my eyes to his, my heart rate picking up. There was a sort of serenity about him.

  “You had this look on your face I couldn’t quite describe. I thought maybe you just didn’t fly much and were uneasy about the prospect of being lifted miles into the air by a pair of engines that could give out at any second.”

  “Way to make me feel great about my trip home,” I shot back sarcastically.

  “You have a better chance of dying in a car accident, of winning the lottery.”

  “I know.” I gave him a congenial smile.

  “It didn’t even dawn on me you’d run out on your own wedding. Once I realized that, everything became so clear — you, your family…his family. I didn’t know much about you personally, but I had a feeling you’d been through more shit because of them than any one person should ever have to deal with. As much as I initially believed fate intervened so I could get the answers I’ve been waiting years for, I couldn’t shake the feeling you were just a pawn in their game. You didn’t need any more trauma in your life, so I made sure to disappear after we landed. I prayed our paths wouldn’t cross again.”

  “But they did.”

  He slowly nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes.” He briefly closed his eyes. “And I couldn’t ignore it anymore. This was the third chance encounter. The lounge. The plane. Then my restaurant. I thought if I spoiled you with some good food and even better wine, maybe you’d loosen up and relax enough—”

  “To what?” I raised my brows. “To sleep with you?”

  He shook his head, taking a sip of sparkling water. “This was never about sleeping with you.” He paused, the intensity in his eyes searing me. I had absolutely no reason to believe anything he told me, but the truth was clear as day in the way he regarded me. “I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that Brock’s father, James, was the American serviceman my mother fell in love with when he was stationed over here. The two kids he had when my mother told him she was pregnant—”

 
“Are Brock’s older brother and sister,” I said, filling in the blanks. “Brock didn’t come along until his brother was ten and sister was thirteen, long after James had retired from active duty. He always prided himself on being a mistake.”

  “I meant what I said earlier today. That man and Brock are my father and step-brother in name only. They aren’t family. None of them are. They never have been, nor will they ever be.”

  “I Googled you,” I admitted quietly. “That’s when I realized who you were. I mean, I knew who you were. Everyone knows who you are. I just never put two and two together.” I pushed my food around my plate, lowering my eyes. “My friend, Mila, says you’re her and her husband’s free pass.”

  He laughed, the sound chipping away at the ice around my heart, and I met his gaze once more. “Free pass?” He cocked his head, waking up the butterflies in my stomach. “What does that mean?” There was a lightness to his expression that made my heart do backflips.

  “Exactly how it sounds.” I shrugged, stabbing my fork into a few pieces of cucumber. “If the opportunity ever arose for them to…you know…”

  His grin widened and he shook his head, laughing even louder. I couldn’t help but crack a smile in response as I listened to that beautiful sound.

  “But that’s all beside the point.” I immediately straightened my spine, my expression turning serious again. I refused to give in to his charms. “I never saw any mention of your relationship to Brock or his dad…your dad…or that you had a daughter.”

  “Like I said, James Harrison is no more a father than a sperm donor would be. My mother never spoke of him much when I was growing up. I was always curious, I suppose. I saw so many of my other friends playing football — or what you know as soccer — with their fathers. My uncle Massimo was the one who taught me, who coached me. He was the father figure in my life. He helped raise me. I never really felt as if anything was missing.