by Bethany-Kris
Dante would be a goddamn liar if he said that thought never crossed his mind. “I want to, yes.”
Paulie laughed deeply. “Women always have this way of turning our lives completely upside down, don’t they?”
“I never said a thing about this child in regards to my wife.”
“You don’t have to, I can tell without your confirmation,” Paulie replied. “I also know you would never stir up issues unless you absolutely had to. Besides, there is no reason for a woman of Catrina’s caliber to settle herself into an arranged marriage with a man like you unless she had something incredibly important to keep safe and hidden. Even if you two have found … well, love, I suppose.”
“He’s not her child,” Dante admitted. “He belongs to her deceased sister.”
Paulie grew silent for longer than Dante liked. “For your sake, as well as your wife’s, I suggest you introduce him as biologically hers to anyone outside your immediate circle. You know as well as I do that Cosa Nostra doesn’t—”
“Look highly upon adoption outside of inner family adoption. Yeah, I know.”
“It will make the integration a little smoother, at least. Less questioning, anyway.”
“Thank you,” Dante said, relieved and satisfied at how the conversation had gone.
Dante was almost positive he could see Paulie’s smile as the man said, “It’s my job to keep you happy, boss. I’ll see you and the little boy within a couple of days. Good luck.”
With the phone call ended, Dante left the confines of the bathroom. Immediately, his gaze caught the squirming bundle of a blue blanket in Catrina’s arms. The baby must have woken up while he was on the phone or someone had gotten him up, but Dante hadn’t heard the child. Catrina held the child straight so his back was facing Dante. Chubby arms waved, a palm patting his aunt’s lips, making Catrina’s smile bloom.
It was a sight Dante had never seen her wear before. Sure, she smiled for him in her own private way and certainly for others when the situation called for it. Catrina’s mask never fell, but this smile, it wasn’t the same. It spoke entirely of love, joy, and liberation.
Catrina caught Dante watching from across the room. Carefully, she turned the eight-month-old boy around as Dante crossed the floor to meet the child his wife had worked so hard to protect.
Innocent brown eyes met Dante’s. Michel grinned wide like the man he was staring at had been the one person he was looking for and just like that …
Dante’s heart kick-started with a fast rhythm. Warmth flooded his veins. Any residual anger dissipated as if it hadn’t even been there to begin with. Impossibility suddenly turned to reality in a blink.
Just like that, Dante fell in love all over again.
Chapter Seventeen
“For a minute, I felt like I was just another fucking pawn on your chess board, Catrina.”
“You’re not.”
“I know, but you made me feel that way.”
Cat sat on the edge of the bed and allowed her husband to get out his anger. Once they’d arrived back at the condo and settled Michel into the portable playpen to sleep for the night, they retired to their room.
And then her husband started talking. His confusion and pain over her actions and secrets came rushing out of him like verbal waves drowning her in hurt. Dante deserved the chance to say what he had to say and she was more than willing to take whatever he tossed at her.
Of course, he surprised her.
“Come here,” Dante demanded quietly.
Cat stood from the bed and walked to meet him where he sat in the corner chair. Dante’s hands reached up and snagged hers in his light grasp. Cat felt the tension leave her body at the easy touch of her husband as his thumbs rolled soothingly over her fingers.
“You’re not one of my pawns, Dante.”
Dante nodded and silently tugged her down into his lap. Cat straddled him with her knees resting to his outer thighs. He fisted the hem of her negligée, bunching the silk around her hips. “I’m so angry with you.”
“I’m sorry.”
A cloudy sadness colored Dante’s green eyes as he regarded her under the lamp’s light. “You know, for once I actually believe you when you say it.”
Cat leaned down and kissed his frowning lips, whispering against is mouth, “You would have turned me away, Dante.”
“I wouldn’t have you now.”
“No.”
“I’m still so fucking angry with you.”
“That’s okay,” Cat murmured. “I’m a big girl … I can handle it.”
“And you deserve it.”
“That, too.” When his hands drove her negligée higher, Cat asked, “Is that what you want right now, to fuck?”
“No.”
Cat didn’t stop him from pulling the clothing off her body. She lifted her arms so he could take it off completely, baring her nakedness for her husband. She wore nothing under the negligée but her skin.
Dante’s hands explored the expanse of her body with a hot, soft touch of a man who loved her. Around the curves of her breasts, the dip in her waist and the swell of her hips straddling him. His caress was so gentle, it was almost like it wasn’t there at all.
Except it was.
She felt it everywhere.
Lust and love burned a path over all the spots he took time to feel. A pooling want began to thrum in her middle, coursing down to her pussy and making her wet.
“What are you doing if you don’t want to fuck me, then?” Cat asked.
“I want to love my wife.”
Cat’s air caught in her throat at the same time the lingering tension in her spine released.
“I don’t want to fuck you, I want to love you,” Dante said.
“Okay, bello.”
He leaned up to meet her, his gaze keeping her pinned in place. The second kiss of his lips and his tongue seeking hers was as tender as before. Cat sighed when he tilted her head back, his mouth ghosting over her chin and down her throat with the sweetest hum building in his chest.
Cat lifted from the chair, letting Dante shed the pants and shirt he wore before she took her place in his lap again. Dante guided her over his cock with one hand, keeping her chin in his other, insuring her eyes never left him.
He took her slowly, letting her sensitive sex feel every inch of him sliding in. His shaft pulsed inside her clenching pussy, her arousal soaking his length and her folds as his cock filled her to the hilt.
Dante’s fingers danced along her spine, up to her shoulders as he freed her hair from the messy chignon. Cat expected him to fist the red strands like he usually would, to tug and pull and make her beg and shout.
There was none of that.
Dante touched her like she was as fragile as a feather. Like there was no anger in his soul for the things she had done. Like he loved her.
She was his queen, and Cat let him show her.
Not once as she rode him did his intent turn rough like it usually did in bed, the way Cat usually liked for her husband to fuck her.
Not when he kissed her as they loved in their unhurried pace, his cock making her desire lick like flames; not when he groaned her name into her parted lips, her gasps panting as the coil in her stomach twisted tighter; and not when he urged her to a quiet finish, the orgasm raging through her blood more intense than it ever had.
Dante had never been as affectionate and loving as he was when he kissed away the tears falling from the corners of her eyes. Even though he was angry, he didn’t show it. Her husband only ever cared for her.
Cat hadn’t realized how much she needed it until he gave it to her.
She took all his body gave her when he came hard with her name in his mouth. She let him wipe the remaining wetness from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Cat’s bottom lip caught between her teeth when he drew her down and kissed her.
“I’m always going to love you.”
“Even when you hate me?” Cat asked in a whisper.
Becaus
e sometimes, she knew he would.
“Yeah, even then.”
• • •
Groggily, Cat padded down the condo hallway. It wasn’t like her husband to leave their bed at night.
It didn’t take her long to find Dante. Sprawled across the large couch on his back, Dante lay sleeping with Michel snoring away on his chest. One arm rested below the boy’s pajama-clad bottom while his other stayed protectively wrapped around Michel’s back as if to keep him where he slept. Michel’s tiny fingers were curled into fists, his cheek pressed flat to the spot above Dante’s heart.
The sight was so painfully sweet it hurt.
“Talked himself to sleep.”
Cat jolted at Dante’s dark voice. His eyes were still closed like he was sleeping, but a sensual smile curved his lips, telling the truth.
“Did he?” Cat asked.
“Yes, we had a long discussion mostly consisting of him smacking my mouth and him drooling while he babbled. His eyeteeth are coming in, I think. Put those chewy things on the list, would you? I’ll probably forget. Lucian said something about Tylenol, too.”
“You called your brother?”
Cat was sure Dante had wanted to keep Michel quiet for a little while longer. At least until they got some news about Johnathan.
“Lucian deserved to know the truth about why his son was taken. I let him get his anger out in private so we could get back to where we needed to be. Now, we can work on getting John home.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You owe that to my brother and his wife, and then you can stop saying it.” Dante’s eyes popped open, landing on Cat. “I also called him because I knew. Lucian’s not sleeping—he can’t. And when he is most irate, he is also the most dangerous. I gave him someone to take it out on, even if it was only verbally. Jordyn is frightened for her son and angry with her husband. They’re waiting, but not well.”
“Neither are you, I take it.”
“No, but Michel is a good distraction from where my mind keeps trying to go.”
“We’ll get Johnathan back.”
“I know.” Dante’s hand rubbed back and forth on Michel’s bottom. “Once Lucian was done yelling at me, he said Tylenol would help Michel sleep. Apparently Jordyn had put a bottle in John’s bag that we kept here.”
“You could have woken me up.”
“I could have,” Dante agreed.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I needed time to think. It’s hard to do that with you beside me.”
“Oh.”
“Mmhmm. Giovanni called shortly after I hung up with Lucian. Another Marcello man that doesn’t know how to sleep when bad shit is going down.”
“What did he have to say?” Cat asked.
“There’s been some talk on the streets,” Dante answered vaguely.
“About what?”
Dante sighed, readjusting Michel so he could encompass the baby’s tiny hand with his own. “Gio isn’t sure, but a few smaller businesses down by the shipping district have mentioned newcomers who do and say little when they’re around, which isn’t often. They’re Italian, but that isn’t uncommon for that area. What is uncommon, is the fact they’re so unknown. It’s unsettled a few people, enough for them to mention it, anyway.”
“Could that be Bruno’s men?”
“Maybe. Gio sent a few men down that way to scope some shit out. Money is working the rounds to get mouths running if someone’s renting out a place or business for anyone to stay or use on the low.”
“You’re not going to come back to bed, are you?”
“No,” Dante murmured. “I’m not.”
“Would you like me to take Michel?”
“No.”
Cat didn’t know what her husband needed from her and that set her off balance. “Are you still angry with me?”
Dante smiled. “I want to be, but no.”
“What can I do for you right now?”
“You can go back to sleep and let me think a bit more,” Dante replied quietly. “And when word does come, because it will, I need you to stay here, take care of Michel, and let me do what I have to, no arguments.”
“I can do that.”
“Good. Because I couldn’t stand the thought of you being in the middle of whatever might go down. I didn’t expect this at all.”
“Expect what?” Cat asked.
“Keeping you safe because I love you. It hadn’t crossed my mind, that’s all. Even inside my head, you’re this formidable force, an unbeatable creature. If I keep thinking that way, regardless of whether you are or not, I’ll have your blood all over my hands.”
“Dante—”
Her husband released a hard breath of air, passing her an intense look that stopped her words and heart. “If you argue with me about letting you in on whatever we might do, I will let you win. Please don’t argue with me so I won’t have to let you win.”
“I won’t.”
Dante brushed the stray hair from Michel’s face, gazing at the boy. “Another thing …”
God, hadn’t what he said been enough? For Cat, it most certainly was.
“What’s that?”
“I want to be his father.”
Cat stilled in place.
“I want him to love me like I’m his father. I don’t care that he doesn’t look like me or even that he can’t someday follow my footsteps because part of his heritage is uncertain. None of that matters to me. I want him to be my son.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but only if you want it, too. See, if I’m his father that means you’re his mother. I’m not sure if you’re open to that or not. He deserves parents, Cat. Ones who will give him everything he needs and should have. I would like for us to be those people—not just his aunt and uncle.”
Cat didn’t even have to think about it. “I would love that.”
Dante grinned, closing his eyes again. “I hoped so.”
• • •
Cat snuggled Michel’s fresh smelling cheek, enjoying the smell of baby soap and lotion on the boy’s skin. Warm and soft, Michel grinned happily all snug in Cat’s arms. She was surprised, although maybe she shouldn’t have been, at how easy her affectionate side came out to play when her nephew—
The night before flooded her mind.
Michel was not her nephew, not anymore. She could give him those things he needed, a mother and father included.
“Does Ma know yet?” Cat heard a voice ask. Giovanni.
“No, just Dad,” Dante replied. “And he’s still got her out of state so she won’t find out.”
“Better she doesn’t,” Lucian added.
Cat’s heart plummeted as she eavesdropped on the brothers’ conversation. To her, it sounded like they were talking about poor Michel. She hadn’t slept well at all the night before and when the brothers showed up bright and early banging on the condo door, Cat made herself scarce with Michel before Dante let them in.
At least her husband’s next words soothed her worry that they weren’t talking about Cecelia disapproving of Michel.
Dante sighed, saying, “The last time bad shit went down, Antony had to get Paulie to sedate her just to keep her from going into a panic attack. No need to worry her about Johnathan until we have good news for her.”
“I agree,” Lucian said. “Let’s get on with it.”
“Word traveled from the streets about the same time they left their little message,” Giovanni said as Cat stepped into the office doorway. No one noticed her presence, so she stayed quiet.
“Good, so we were right then?” Dante asked.
“Warehouse in the shipping district,” Giovanni confirmed with a nod. “Pretty big place, so there’s that.”
Lucian’s hands smacked down hard to Dante’s desk. “This is my son we’re talking about. Can we please not act like we’re serving a fucking dinner here?”
Dante flinched. “Lucian—”
“No, shut the fuck up. I don’t care about whatever g
oddamn problem you’ve got with this. I don’t. My wife won’t even speak to me right now because of this. She blames me, Dante, and she doesn’t even realize the shit going on inside my head. Jordyn looks at me like she hates me and it’s killing me. And you know what, fuck you for thinking it would be okay to sit around and take the time to consider whatever it is you’re considering. This is my son, not any other kid. Mine.”
“My wife,” Dante murmured. “I’m considering my wife.”
Cat’s spine straightened at her husband’s omission.
“She fucking caused this!” Lucian roared.
Michel started in Cat’s arms at the sudden change in noise level. Before she could stop him from crying, or even hide from view of the office, Michel wailed. Fat tears slid down his cheeks as Cat bounced him in her embrace and patted his back, shushing into his ear soothingly.
When he calmed, sniffling away his cries, Cat turned back to the brothers. All eyes had turned to her in the doorway.
The defensive stances Giovanni and Lucian sported eased at the sight of Michel.
“Good morning,” Cat greeted.
“Morning, Catrina,” Giovanni replied.
Lucian didn’t say a thing.
“I’m sorry for all the worry my choices have caused you, Lucian,” Cat said, wanting him to know. “I never thought Bruno would go so far as to take another man’s child, and that was my mistake. I misjudged his cruelty and there is no excuse or apology worthy of your pain.”
“You’re right, there isn’t,” Lucian stated coldly. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t try at all. I don’t want your apologies, I want my son. As does my wife.”
Cat flinched on the inside, but she knew she deserved every bit of his anger and resentment.
“He’s fed, bathed and ready for you,” Cat said quietly, meeting Dante’s gaze.
“So this is him?” Lucian asked.
Dante waved at Michel who was twisting around to find his father’s voice. “This is him. Michel.”
“Marcello,” Giovanni said for his brother when Dante didn’t tack on Michel’s surname.
