by Leigh, T. K.
“Tell me what you want, Eleanor,” he whispered.
I met his stare and gave him the only answer I could. “I want you, Dante.” I pulled his lips back to mine and murmured, “Only you.”
“And I only want you, Eleanor. Always and forever. Sempre e per sempre.”
“Sempre e per sempre,” I repeated, losing myself in his words, his body, his everything.
Ours wasn’t a love story that had a happy ending. Ours was a tragic love. The kind of love that left a permanent scar on your heart. The kind of love you never got over. The kind of love you couldn’t help but cherish because for just a brief moment in time, you knew how it felt to live, to be free…to fly.
Chapter Twelve
I stirred awake, disoriented, nothing but darkness enclosing me. Then I remembered where I was as my eyes took in Dante’s luxurious bedroom. A heaviness settled in my heart at the thought of leaving all of this, but I had to stay strong. I couldn’t allow myself to be influenced by all the comfort and opulence surrounding me. I needed to remind myself of what was important. Dante and I both had too much to lose if I stayed.
We both had a lot to lose if I left, too.
I shifted in the bed, turning to face Dante, surprised when he wasn’t there. I’d grown so accustomed to falling asleep next to him, I felt empty without him beside me. Would this same emptiness plague me back home?
After a while of tossing and turning, trying to get back to sleep, I got out of bed, pulled on my robe, and padded out of the room in search of him. The house was dark, lifeless, desolate, the only light coming from a few well-placed night lights illuminating the floor of the hallway. There was a chill in the air, the hardwood floor cold on my bare feet. Tugging my robe tighter around me, I continued past door after door of the various guest bedrooms and bathrooms of Dante’s beautiful home, doing my best to remain delicate on my feet.
As I rounded a corner toward the stairs, I noticed an open door, a bit of light filtering into the hallway. My eyebrows furrowed as I recalled the tour of his home Dante had given me. This was the only room he hadn’t shown me. He’d brought me into every other room, including the guest bathrooms, but the door to this particular one had always remained closed…until now. I’d simply thought it was just a closet or laundry room. I was wrong.
My heart seemed to echo in my ears, my curiosity building as I hesitantly tiptoed toward the doorway. The moonlight shined in through the large windows, casting a shadow in the room, bathing some of it in an ominous glow. I paused just past the threshold, my eyes settling on Dante’s frame kneeling in front of a twin bed that was covered with a My Little Pony comforter. His forehead rested on the mattress, and I noticed a slight tremble in his shoulders as he remained facing away from me.
I looked around, swallowing hard at everything this room once was but would never be again. On the far wall, a mural of practically every Disney character I could think of had been painted with painstaking precision. A bookcase sat toward the window alcove, a rocking chair next to it. Stuffed animals and toys were still scattered throughout, as if this room remained frozen in history, a snapshot of a happier time.
A tear fell down my cheek, a lump forming in my throat at the thought that this house was once home to a little girl’s laughter and smiles, but the halls now seemed empty and lifeless. It didn’t seem fair. The idea that my father, the man who gave me life, could have been involved in the death of a child made me blind with rage, despair, heartache. This girl hadn’t even begun to live her life. What could possibly be so important as to cause her and her family so much pain and suffering?
Then I heard it…a sound that made the remnants of my heart shatter into pieces. Dante singing “Edelweiss”, like he sang to Lilly all those years ago as he rocked her to sleep. I listened to those lyrics as his baritone filled the room, able to hear the lump he struggled to sing through. Why did it have to be this song? It was supposed to be about a flower, but as I listened, really listened, he could have just as well been singing about a newborn baby. About walking into her room in the morning to see her smiling at him. About watching her grow from a small bulb into a beautiful flower. I hated that this person I’d never met was taken too soon. Worse, I hated that this person I was falling for still struggled to find meaning in this tragedy. I couldn’t find any meaning in it, either.
Unable to hold it in any longer, I released a small sob, wiping my eyes. Dante immediately stopped singing and raised his head, glaring over his shoulder at me. He had a look about him I couldn’t quite describe, a wildness and torment in his dark eyes. My heart caught in my throat, my body becoming rigid.
Without saying a word, he stood and stalked toward me with long, determined strides. Grabbing my hand, he yanked me from the room, slamming the door behind us. I jumped, glancing back at the closed door before returning my eyes to him. But he wouldn’t look at me. I tried to figure out his mood as he pulled me back down the hallway toward the bedroom, but couldn’t. Was he upset I’d seen him in that room? Was he angry at me for my father’s potential involvement in Lilly’s death? For some reason, I couldn’t help but think this was something different entirely.
He jerked me into the bedroom, stopping in front of the bed, facing me, a feral look about him as his eyes raked over me. He reached for the sash securing my robe and pulled it with surprising force, throwing it to the floor before tugging the material down my arms. My muscles tensed as I stared into his heated eyes, uncertainty filling me. Something about the expression on his face made me think I should do something to calm him, but amid the intensity in his gaze, there was pain. There was heartache. There was suffering. And I would do whatever he needed to take that from him, to help shoulder the burden for a little while.
My chest rising and falling in a quicker pattern, I lowered myself to the mattress and scooted up to the head of the bed, keeping my eyes trained on his, silently telling him that I was his, that I would take whatever he needed to give me. He shoved his briefs down his legs, then crawled on top of me, his body slithering up mine. There was no kissing, no dragging his tongue across my skin, no whisper of his desire in my ear. Instead, he flipped me onto my stomach and thrust into me in one savage motion. I screamed out — not in unbridled pleasure, but in pain. Real pain, but that didn’t stop him from increasing his vicious and forceful motions. I made no move to hinder him, either. I wanted his pain. His hurt. His anguish. I wanted his despair. His desperation. His sorrow. I wanted his frustration. His defeat. His anger.
He leaned over me, covering my body with his as he slid both hands under my arms, leaving me completely at his mercy and unable to move. Hooking his hands over each of my shoulders, he pushed me against him with a labored grunt, driving into me with so much force, a tear fell from my eye.
Dante had been rough with me from the beginning. I craved it — his dominance, his power, his control. But this… This wasn’t just him being aggressive as a way to turn me on, to turn him on. This wasn’t just rough sex, a power play to get me off. This was punishment. This was ugly. This was gritty. But as much as I wanted to tell him to stop, that it was too much, that I didn’t want it like this, I couldn’t utter those words. He was darkness, and I was drawn to him like the moon to night.
He buried his head in my neck, clamping onto me with his teeth. The weight of his body on top of mine crushed me, the burn of his teeth and hands on my skin overwhelming. I felt like I could barely breathe. But it didn’t matter. I wanted more.
“Harder,” I whimpered. “Give me your pain, your hate, your grief. I want it all, Dante. I don’t want you to have to carry it anymore.”
He groaned, his motions becoming more primal, more severe, more brutal. I closed my eyes, wincing, balling my hands into fists, drawing in several shaky breaths as I tried to forget about the hurt. He needed this. For some reason, I needed this, too.
When I didn’t know how much more I could take, he released a strangled cry, his body shaking and writhing on top of mine before he rolled of
f me. I blinked repeatedly, the room growing silent, apart from our heavy breathing.
Then a sob reverberated against the walls as Dante pulled me to him, my back to his front, burying his head in my neck once more. I quickly turned around and enveloped him in my arms, wishing I could make it stop hurting. He’d given life to another being, had raised her, had watched her grow into a vibrant young girl, had made plans for a future…only to have it wiped away in the blink of an eye. I couldn’t imagine the pain he still felt, even years later, whenever faced with memories of her. Whenever thinking of what she would be like had she survived. Whenever seeing other kids her age laughing and enjoying life.
I thought I’d felt his heartache before, but that was nothing compared to this moment. Dante deserved answers, to find meaning in the torment that still plagued him. And I vowed to get those answers, regardless of the price.
Chapter Thirteen
The house was eerily still the following morning as I padded down the hallway in search of Dante, who’d mysteriously disappeared from the bed at some point during the night. I paused outside the door to Lilly’s room, wondering if he’d returned there. When I placed my hand on the knob, about to turn it, I hesitated. I couldn’t quite explain why, but I had a feeling he wasn’t there. I had a feeling he wasn’t here at all.
I continued down the stairs, my entire body sore from whatever last night was. It wasn’t sex. It was something much uglier. When I emerged on the lower level, I caught a glimpse of myself in a large mirror in the living room. I smoothed my dark hair back, leaning in to get a closer look at my bloodshot eyes, the normal hazel color clouded over. It appeared as if I hadn’t slept in days, and after last night, I felt as if I hadn’t, either, completely unsettled and unsure of what to think.
After tightening the sash of my robe, I headed into the kitchen. Empty. Worry filled me as I searched the rest of the living areas and the patio area. Still no sign of Dante. The entire place looked just as we’d left it before heading up to the bedroom last night, right down to a trail of flour from the kitchen island and throughout the living area that we’d missed when cleaning up after dinner.
I stepped back inside from the outdoor pool, my brain going a million miles a minute. Was Dante upset I’d walked in on him in his daughter’s room last night? Was he ashamed of how he’d allowed his pain to consume him? Or did he just not want to see me now that he knew my father may have been responsible for Lilly’s death? I had no idea.
As I was about to head back upstairs to see if my gut was wrong and check Lilly’s room, I heard the creak of the front door opening. I dashed from the kitchen, hopeful, only to find myself disappointed when a familiar female voice called out Dante’s name, followed by something in Italian. I rounded the corner into the living area. Beatrice came to a stop when she saw me.
“Oh, Eleanor. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t disturb anything,” she said with a sly grin.
“No, you didn’t,” I responded, wrapping my arms around my body, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. I didn’t know why I was so agitated by Dante’s mysterious absence. Last night, if he’d been the same Dante I’d grown accustomed to, if I hadn’t walked in on him kneeling in front of his daughter’s bed, if I hadn’t spent half the night snuggled against his trembling body, if I hadn’t been the daughter of the man who may be responsible for her death, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it. Something about his disappearance with no word didn’t sit right with me.
“What is it?” Beatrice asked, cutting through my thoughts and looking at me with concern. “Is everything okay?”
I met her eyes. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “When I woke up, Dante wasn’t here.”
“Well, he is a bit of an early riser. I’m sure you’ve realized that by now.”
“Yes, but…” I trailed off, collecting my thoughts, unsure of what to say. As much as I would have loved to disclose the conversation I’d overheard yesterday, I didn’t know if I should, the thought of betraying Dante’s trust making my stomach roll. “I woke up in the middle of the night and he wasn’t in bed, so I went looking for him.” I paused. “He was in Lilly’s room.”
She closed her eyes, understanding seeming to wash over her.
“When he realized I had been watching him…” I swallowed hard, leaving out the details of what happened in the bedroom. “He wasn’t angry, but he wasn’t himself, either. He…”
She placed her hand on my shoulder, stopping me from saying anything further. “I won’t lie to you. Dante still struggles with what happened to Lilly. He refuses to believe it was just an unfortunate event, especially since getting that phone call from that so-called source back in March.”
I shot my eyes to hers, surprised at her forwardness in discussing this. Dante must have told her he’d shared this with me.
“What do you think?”
“I think…” She pulled her lips between her teeth, pausing for a moment. “I think if it were my son or daughter, I’d be going through the same thing as Dante. If someone called me and said my child’s death could have been avoided, that she only died because of someone’s conscious wrongdoing, I wouldn’t stop until I knew exactly who was responsible…regardless of the cost to anyone I may have feelings for.”
I briefly closed my eyes, drawing in a deep breath.
“Then I’d make them pay for the rest of their miserable lives.”
I nodded, remaining silent as I lowered my head, feeling guilty about my father’s potential role in all of this. Feeling like I was partly responsible, too.
“I may be out of line,” Beatrice said when I didn’t offer anything in response, “but Dante didn’t happen to tell you about a phone call he received yesterday, did he?”
“No, but I overheard,” I replied sheepishly. “You need to know that I don’t know anything. I’m not involved at all. I’m not like them.”
“I know that.” She gave me a reassuring smile. “So does Dante.”
I shook my head, pulling my lips between my teeth as I stared off into the distance. “He’s more forgiving than I would be in this situation. Even after learning my dad may have had a part to play, he still wants me to stay. He still wants a future with me.”
“But…” Beatrice lifted a brow.
I chewed on my cheek, exhaling a long breath as I returned my eyes to hers. There were so many reasons why I needed to leave on the tip of my tongue. Regardless, there was one I never considered until that very moment, one I didn’t realize to be true, one I didn’t realize was paramount to everything else.
“But we’re both too broken to try and fix each other. We need to fix ourselves first.”
She studied me for a moment, then understanding fell over her expression, her lips turning up slightly at the corners. “You’re doing the right thing. If Giuseppe and I never had the time apart we did and learned to be ourselves, it never would have worked out. Sometimes you need to find yourself before you can see yourself with another person.” She placed her hand on my bicep, squeezing slightly. “He’s trying to fix himself. He’s finally back here.”
“What do you mean?” I furrowed my brow.
“This is the first time he’s been in this house since Lilly died.”
“Why hasn’t he been back? This place is gorgeous.”
“How would you feel if you had to be surrounded by reminders of happy memories? That’s the reason he bought the apartment in Rome. He couldn’t bear to be here anymore. Whenever he comes to check in on the vineyard, he stays with his mother or at our vacation home down the street.”
I glanced around, almost able to hear the long-forgotten sounds of a child’s laughter. “If this house holds such difficult memories, why did he bring me here?” I swallowed hard, trying to understand what Dante was going through.
“Your guess is as good as mine, but based on how well I know Dante, he probably hoped to create some new memories with someone he believes could be his future, instead of constantly dwelling on the past. I
think you give him hope that he’ll be able to move on from this time in his life. For that, I’ll forever be grateful you ran into each other, regardless of whether or not it works out between you two.” She gave me a sincere smile, then stepped back, her face brightening. “Would you like me to bring you to him?”
“You know where he is?” I lifted a brow.
“Dante and I may be cousins, but he’s always been more like a brother to me. I’ve been by his side through everything. His first girlfriend. His first bad breakup. When he checked in to rehab before he overdosed and killed himself.” A compassionate smile crossed her face. “I know him better than anyone else, except for his mother, of course. I have a feeling I know where he is. It’s the same place he always goes when he needs reassurance he’s on the right path. Go get ready.”
I shifted from foot to foot, chewing on my lower lip. “Maybe I should just wait here. After the way he was last night, I’m sure he just wants to be alone right now.”
“Perhaps,” she said with a shrug. “Or perhaps he left because he doesn’t think you want to see him.”
I averted my gaze.
“Trust me, Eleanor,” she urged. “I have a feeling Dante would love nothing more than to see you right now.”
Nodding, I reluctantly turned from her, about to head up the stairs, then met her eyes once more. “Beatrice?”
She tilted her head toward me.
“Please, don’t let Dante know that I overheard his phone conversation. I just…”
She held her hand up, cutting me off. “My lips are sealed.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Here we are,” Beatrice said when she pulled her car into the parking lot of a rustic old church, killing the engine.
“Dante’s where exactly?” I lifted a brow.
She gestured toward the brick building in front of us. “In there.”
“In the church?” My heart rate picked up.
