by Jaci J
I’m embarrassed that I now have to go back out there like this. I’m a goddamn mess. I pull myself together the best I can and walk out of the restroom, thinking I need to find Dante so I can get out of here, but once I begin to walk down the hall, loud gunshots ring out. What the hell is happening? My heart finds my feet and a lump forms in my throat. Running back into the bathroom, I pull the door closed and lock it. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m in deep shit.
Dante
“She’s not outside anywhere.” Of course she isn’t. Why would she be? Gunshots ring out and she’s nowhere to be found. It’s not like she was going to be patiently waiting, leaning against the car with a smile on her face. I’m not that goddamn lucky.
“Get them into the car and on the road,” I tell Pete, nodding over at Betty and Lucy. I had no idea the two were even here until they came running outside five minutes ago. Now I have to go back inside, into the chaos to find the little monster. “Come on, Cam. We’ve got to go find London.”
She’s impossibly loud and she’s beautifully dressed, so you’d think she’d stand out, but that’s just not the case. I’m going to have to search high and low.
“You know who those bullets were for,” Cam says, looking at me knowingly. It’s not a question because we both know the answer. He knows just like I do. Things are coming to a head and people are making their moves, closing in on me―on us. Thank God for poor aim and distraction.
“Yeah, me.”
Inside there are people standing around everywhere. A few uniformed officers mill about, talking with terrified people, trying to get any information they can. I’m still not exactly sure who or where the shots came from, but I’m pretty goddamn sure the fine officers of New York City aren’t going to have any more luck figuring it out than I am at the moment.
“Take the kitchen. I’ll go down the back hall and out back.”
I’ve searched high and low. Dammit, she turns me inside out with her shit. She’s got me worried sick with all the ‘what-ifs.’ Christ, I can’t handle the stress she evokes. She couldn’t have gone far or fast in her sky-high heels and tight-ass dress.
The back hallway is my last option. I’ve run out of places inside to look for her. “Go back out front and see if she’s out there.” Although it is highly doubtful, I’m running out of places to look.
Walking right up the bathroom doors, I beat on them. “London!” Pushing on the door, it doesn’t budge because it’s locked. “London?”
“What?” London’s growly voice floats through the door. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath I until I heard her voice through the fucking door.
“Baby, open the door.” And she does; no fight, and no argument, thank God. Swinging open the door, I notice her face doesn’t look like it did the last time I saw her.
“What the fuck happened to your face?” My blood pressure rises significantly. Jerking on her arm, I pull her closer to get a better look.
“What the hell …” she complains, reaching a hand up to her face. Her eyes flash and she shakes her head. “I had a mishap with some lipstick and a picture frame.” Is she drunk?
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a long story.”
“A story you will tell me.”
Grabbing her arm, I take a step towards the door and she’s already struggling.
“Stop pulling on me.”
“London, I don’t have the time for your shit right now.” Her heels click against the floor when she stomps her goddamn foot at me.
“What the hell is going on? Were those gunshots?” Pulling on her gently this time, I encourage her to step towards the door so we can get out to the car. Bitching and moaning, her little drunk ass drags her feet, but she follows me until we walk into the dance hall.
“The cops are here?” Her voice is full of curiosity, and now she’s distracted.
“London, lets hurry this along.” I’ve got things to do and this is not one of them.
“Oh shit, was it you shooting?” When I try to push her along, she stops and looks at me accusingly. “It was, wasn’t it? Who were you shooting at?” She carries on, ignoring my silent pleas. At that moment, two uniformed officers stops us. They’re like flies to shit. The moment they see me, they must speak to me. I have no information to add that would help them.
“Mr. Marcello, a moment?” The dick in blue asks, resting his hand smugly on the gun at his hip. Rookie. Intimidation does nothing to me. Your guns and government appointed uniforms will not sway me.
“I don’t have a moment, so this can wait.” He can stand here all night and stare me down and I’ll still have nothing to tell him. “If you need me, you know where your boss can find me.” I have bigger fish to fry this evening.
Brushing past the cops, I tug London along after me towards the glowing exit sign above the door. We only make it a step or two before she stops me again.
“Dante, you can’t just brush them off.” I can do whatever I damn well please. Hasn’t she learned this already?
“I’ve had about all I can take tonight, baby. Up you go.” I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder. “ And no, it wasn’t me shooting. Like I said, I don’t have time for this right now.” I’ll carry her ass out of here. I have no problem with it.
“God, you’re annoying,” she whines while trying to twist her way out of my hold, “so fucking annoying!” she continues to mutter under her breath. So I’ve heard.
Setting her on her feet once we’re out of the building and on the sidewalk, I point at the car so she doesn’t misunderstand me.
“Get in.” Hell, I’d even open it for her if she weren’t standing in front of it.
“Get in what?”
“Get in the fucking car … please. It’s not safe to stand around out here because I don’t have a clue as to who was shooting.
“Well if you’d stop shooting at people …” She chastises with a shrug, pointing out the obvious.
I need a drink. “This is the last goddamn time I’m going to say this; I did no shoot anyone, at least not yet. Now, get inside the car.” I’m not above physically shoving her inside if I have to.
“I really fucking hate you.”
“Good.” I shove her ass inside. We can have this fight anywhere but out in the open in the fucking street.
We start to pull away and I know this will be a rough ride with her pissed off attitude, so now that I’ve got her and she’s safe, I try to sweet talk her, “Il mio amore?” I tease.
“What?” She snaps, glaring at me. Well at least she’s talking to me.
“Are you mad at me?” Stupid question, but I just can’t help myself. She actually scoffs. Her hair is a mess now, with loose pieces hanging around her face. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes are bright―with either hate or love―I’m not sure. Even with the little gash on her cheek, which needs to be looked at, she’s perfect. I’m either a lucky man or one stupid man for having her in my life. She doesn’t make it easy, but sitting here glaring at me, she does make it worth it.
“Yes, I’m mad. You never fucking listen to me.” I’ll give her that one. I listen to what’s important and her tantrum wasn’t.
“What do you want to tell me?” I ask her patiently. I’ll do anything to get her to stop ranting and raving and start smiling again.
“I’m hungry.”
“I’ll get you food, baby.” If she told me she wanted to drive two states away to get a meal, I wouldn’t deny her.
~~~~~
“Stop moving.” Wiggling around on the kitchen island, she jerks her face around. “God dammit, London, stop moving.” She’s making this harder than it should be.
Huffing, she pulls her face from my hands. I hate when she stops me from touching her. “You’re all in my personal space,” she says, circling her hand around her thighs.
“You mean my personal space?” She has no personal space. Whatever space she thinks she has is mine.
“My personal space, Dante.”
�
�Your personal space is my space too, baby, so get used to it. Now, let me finish.”
Grabbing her chin, I go about cleaning her cut. “If this scars your face, I’m not going to be happy,” I tell her. Jesus, a few minutes away from me and she gets battle scars while in a goddamn bathroom. How is this shit possible?
“You have serious boundary issues,” she tells me, like I’m not already aware of it. It’s only where she’s concerned do these issues seem to arise. London and I will never have boundaries.
“Only with you.”
“Well aren’t I just the luckiest gal,” she mutters in a terrible Southern accent. Her face screws up when the joke slips past her lips. She’s hilarious.
“You’re sarcasm is adorable, but it’s time to shut up so I can fix you, baby.”
Eight
Miss Pliant
London
I’m comfortable and content. Dante made sure to feed me the moment he shoved me through his front door towards the couch, demanding I sit. Dressed in one of his white t-shirts and covered in a soft down blanket, I’m wrapped up on the couch. I don’t want to be enjoying this big heaping bowl of pasta covered in delicious cream sauce, or this comfy blanket, or this body-hugging couch, but it’s pretty damn hard not to.
We spent ten minutes arguing about why I wanted to go home and why Dante wasn’t going to let me. Overwhelmed by is his ability to completely confuse me with his fast-talking and ridiculous reasoning, I somehow managed to end up in the elevator, destined for his place. I’m full, relaxed, and begrudgingly happy about it.
I’m alone, but I’m not complaining since I’m watching The Notebook. I prefer to cry alone anyhow. Goldfish and Vinn are standing in the kitchen, talking softly about God knows what, but they aren’t paying my tears any mind, and Dante has disappeared, as usual.
A fork full of pasta and cheeks soaked with tears I watch the credits roll. I love that movie. “Shit,” I hear Vinn growl under his breath. Shit what? Looking up from the TV, I turn my attention to the men in the kitchen. They both look tense, and neither one of them will look at me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” they both say in unison. Sure, that was believable. They’re both lying to me. Vinn’s phone rings on the counter and the three of us stare at it like it may blow up at any moment. Looking at Goldfish, he shakes his head at Vinn. Vinn doesn’t acknowledge him and picks up the phone anyways.
“Yeah,” he answers. His eyes widen and his mouth tightens from whatever he’s hearing. What the fuck is going on?
Slamming the phone down, he looks at me, face serious. “Stay here.” Instantly I’m off of the couch. He can’t just say “stay here,” not when they’re both acting sketchy. Staring daggers at me, he stomps to the front door. “Goldfish, keep her in here.”
“What the hell is happening?”
“London, stay in here!”
Goldfish and I are both staring at each other, waiting for the other to react. Leaning slightly towards the door, we both make a mad dash for it, but he’s quicker. Blocking the door with his body, he has the balls to smirk. “You need to sit down; less trouble that way.” Trouble my ass. I’m about to argue when the door flies open and my attention is turned.
Commotion follows Dante inside. He’s disheveled and breathing heavily as he comes storming inside, pushing Goldfish out of his way while barking orders over his shoulder at Josh and Pete.
“Just fucking do it, and do it quickly,” he shouts, slamming the door behind him.
Stopping dead in his tracks, he looks at me while I look him over. On the sleeve of his gray shirt is blood. It’s like a shining beacon I can’t overlook. His hair hangs over his forehead in sweaty strands. Sweeping it away, I notice the blood on his hands too.
“Was this because of what happened earlier?” Dante says nothing, but nods his head once. Mob business, I’m sure.
“Your blood or theirs?”
“Do you want me to answer honestly or lie?”
“Honestly, but I’ll probably still get a lie,” I mutter sarcastically.
“It’s mine.” Brushing past me, he heads down the hall and disappears into his office, practically shoving me out of the way.
“I wish it was yours,” I yell.
“You’re a terrible fucking liar,” he yells back before slamming his office door closed.
Walking down the hall to Dante’s room, I slam the door behind me too. If he can do it, so can I. I kick a pair of his stupid loafers out of the way and swipe his dumb watch and annoying wallet off the dresser and onto the floor, then I tear the comforter off the bed. I hate that I care about him so goddamn much.
I’m happy as hell that Dante is in one piece. No one I know is in a body bag and no one is behind bars. There were no serious fights and Matt is at his boy toy’s house. We’re all in one piece and that is something to be thankful for if nothing else.
~~~~~
Two hours later, I’m lying in Dante’s bed, watching him pace the length of the room. He doesn’t care if I’m mad, so what’s the point in holding onto it? He’s banging on his phone, typing out e-mails and text messages while he stomps back and forth. Why don’t I know anything about him; the man he is and what made him this way?
“Dante, why are you like this?” I ask, mentally exhausted by him. Watching him worry wears me out. Looking up from his phone, I see a vulnerability in his eyes. I see him, the real Dante with the cracks and holes, and even the tears in his armor. It’s a sight to see.
I expect a lie, but receive a gift I didn’t know I wanted … the truth.
“I’m terrified something is going to happen to you,” he says, sounding irritated. Why can’t he see that he is what has happened to me. He stormed into my life like a fucking tornado, ripping me and my world apart.
“Besides what you’ve done to me, what more could happen to me?” He has crushed me. There is nothing left to ruin.
“A lot,” he assures me.
I need more than that. He can’t just give me “a lot” and expect that to be enough. I know one of his twelve personalities has more than that for me. “Dante, why are you like this with just me?” I ask more firmly.
“Do you really want to know?”
“YES! Of course I do. It’s what I’ve wanted from you all along.”
“My mom was killed, ripped away from me before I even had the chance to really know her. The only fucking person ever on my side was tore away from me by the man who ran this life … my life. My father may not have been the one to stop her heart, but he fucking let it happen. She wasn’t the first woman and she won’t be the last.” Lifting the glass up to his lips, I watch as the liquid works its way down his throat as I digest his words.
A young Dante comes to mind; a sad, lost, motherless little boy. A life without the love of his mother couldn’t have been easy. I’ve only spent a very small, insignificant amount of time with his father, but from what I’ve seen, I can only imagine how hard it must have been for Dante. I desperately want to shield and protect the lost little boy that once was a sweet, innocent Dante.
The soft thud of his glass meeting the table startles me out of my thoughts. “I don’t want that for you, London. I’m this way because I want to keep you breathing, keep you happy, and keep you un-fucking-aware of all the shitty things out there. I’m trying desperately not to let this shit tear you down. My soul mission in life is to wake up every fucking morning and try to keep you living, blissfully ignorant to this life, London. I wasn’t able to do it once, but I can now. You make it hard, baby, but I’ll fight harder. I push, I demand, but I fight for you, il mio amore. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me. That is why I am the way I am with you.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say, let alone think. Walking over to me, he wraps me up in his long, strong arm, jerking me against his body. Burying his face in my neck, he rubs his cheek and jaw against my skin, causing a shiver to travel down my back. Even hating him,
I can’ fight it.
“But that’s all you’re getting. Don’t ever question why I am the way I am with you again. I have my reasons and you’ll just have to accept them and know that every breath I take, every lie I tell, every law I break, every man I kill, is to keep you the way you are right now; happy, healthy, and breathing. I love you and that is all you ever need to know. You’re my fucking heart, London. It’s time that you see it and accept it. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.” I don’t know why, but I’m completely stunned by his confession. I know how I feel, but I don’t know what I want to feel. “Now get naked and get in bed.” His voice is gruff and strained.
“Dante,” I plead softly. I can’t fall right back into him and right into bed, not this way. Fucking because we’re mad is one thing, but this is something entirely different. Being with him this way makes me want to let go and just be with him.
“Sometimes I don’t mind your defiance. Hell, sometimes I enjoy it, but right now I want you naked, and in my bed, London.”
With his hands on my hips and his lips caressing mine, he lets me go and I take off his t-shirt, along with my panties as he begins to take off his clothes too. Once we’re both standing naked, he gives me a little push, letting me fall back onto the bed.
Staring up at his dark eyes, he stares back with a look of longing and lust. I can’t stop myself from giving into him.
"You drive me crazy," he says softly, his stare making me go weak. "You make me fucking mad, but you also make me deliriously happy." He smiles that dimpled smile and my whole body shudders.
Pushing between my knees, he settles himself between my thighs on the bed. His head dips and he leaves soft, wet kisses up my stomach to my chest. "You make me crazy," I whisper over the top of his head. Dragging his hand up my stomach, he smirks.
"I know I do."
"We're bad for each other," I remind him as his finger traces my belly button. His tongue sneaks out and sweeps across his bottom lip.
"I know."
"You know a lot."
"I do, London."
