by Eden Butler
“Six years.” Dario moved closer, leaning on both palms now. “A lot has changed since that night.”
I didn’t bother fighting the grin that tugged on the side of my mouth or how my gaze moved over his face, down to his neck. “You’ve changed the most.”
“You think?”
“Well, yeah.” He went still, his eyes narrowing, veins in his forearms flexing when I reached a finger to his neck tattoo, tracing the wings around the side. “You were clean-cut back then, except for the smoking.” My eyes drifted along with my finger, stopping at his clavicle where the eagle gripped that black snake. “No piercings, no tattoos then.” Dario reached up, his movement slow, to hold my hand still, against his neck and I jerked a look at his face, mesmerized by the slip of his tongue against the silver ring on his lip.
“You were blonde, tiny then, sickly. Now though—”
“Now what?” I pulled my hand back, folding my arms when he got quiet. “He had a type and wouldn’t let me eat much. Thought I needed to stay…”
“He wanted you to be skin and bones?” His voice was loud and the tension in his face exaggerated by how firmly he clenched his jaw.
“You wanna keep your voice down?” I picked up my glass, taking another sip. “No one here knows about him or me.”
He nodded, pouring more bourbon then paused, taking my glass to refill it. “So, how’d you do it?” When I frowned, not catching his meaning Dario lifted my left hand, rubbing his thumb across my empty ring finger. “Couldn’t have been easy.”
He had no idea.
“It wasn’t.” His palms were rough and calloused, but his nails were clean, perfectly square. He had beautiful, large hands with thick veins that ran along the top and disappeared between his knuckles. Absently, I let my fingertips smooth over the biggest vein on his right hand, watching his face as I spoke. “I had help.”
Dario leaned back, looking down at me, his eyes sharp, curious. “Federal help?”
One of the waiters moved behind me and I glanced his way, quiet as he nodded to Dario when he passed. “This is a little public for that discussion.”
“Then I’ll come to your place.” He slammed back his bourbon. “Tonight. I can walk you there now.”
“No.”
The room seemed to get hotter when Dario moved close again, resting on his elbows. “You need to explain a few things to me. Last I saw you,” he waved a hand over my body, “well. You were an entirely different woman.”
“Last I saw you, you wanted to find my husband and pound his face in.”
His laugh didn’t hold any humor. It was sharp, the sound biting. “Still do. Devising ways I can make that happen in my head right now.”
My mouth tensed from the quick frown I gave him. “That would leave everyone vulnerable.” My father would take the opportunity like a kid after free chocolate. “And I don’t mean just me.” Dario didn’t react to my explanation, didn’t object when I grabbed the bottle and refilled my glass. “When Smoke is better, I want to sit down with him, with both of you and explain everything. But not tonight. Not here and not at my place.”
He considered me for a second, squinting, then grinned like he silently concocted a convincing argument to change my mind. “Run it by me tonight. Let me vet you a little before you bring anything to Dimitri.”
My laugh made Dario’s relaxed expression harden. “You vetting me isn’t on my schedule.”
Dario’s mouth eased further, upturning into a smile, devious and deadly, as he moved closer, biting on the inside of his bottom lip. “You trying to tell me you don’t want me to vet you?” The lip ring moved along with his gaze. “Ever ?” When he spoke again, his voice was low, sweet and my skin chilled, heart thumping just from the lull of his tone. “’Cause I gotta be real, sweetheart, we both know that’s bullshit.”
Rubbing my arms, I pretended he didn’t affect me. “Why? Because I went at you like a drunk teenager six years ago?”
He nodded, his lips spreading into a wide, amused smile. “Whatever was there before, back when you were on me, is still here. You can’t deny that.”
I didn’t mean to release the snorting laugh. Didn’t mean for it to be as loud and insulting as it seemed to be, but the man was ridiculous. He wasn’t lying but was still very ridiculous. I deflected with an insult. “It is just never lonely in that head of yours, is it? All the wild, ridiculous things you invent in there. Man, it’s like a carnival, right?”
“Be honest,” he said, ignoring my abuse. “You almost let me kiss you the night of our first date.”
He couldn’t be serious. I widened my eyes, letting my mouth hang open as another unexpected laugh bubbled from my throat. “You think that was a date?” When I laughed again, this time even louder, Dario’s nostrils flared, and he poured himself another bourbon. “Oh, sugar, you really have been out of the loop a long time.”
“With good reason.” He said that with a mutter muffled behind his tumbler.
“Maybe, but you’re a smart man. You should know better than to think a seventy-dollar meal at the local Vietnamese place and some cheap white wine all while you tell me you’re someone you’re not, is a real date.”
“I’m sorry about that.” Dario’s face constricted and a guilty wince changed his expression before he slipped a hand in his pocket. “I’m sorry about a lot of things. Mainly letting you go back to that asshole the night we met.”
The confession came out of nowhere and was too real, too honest for the lightness of our conversation. It sobered me immediately. There was too much truth in his words. Too much pain. If Dario knew the whole story, what happened later— I looked toward the kitchen, pushing my glass away, my voice just above a whisper when I finally spoke. “We’d both be dead if you hadn’t.”
He leaned in, his head moving close. “It would have saved us both a lot of fucking grief.”
“Dario…” He didn’t flinch from me when I reached for his hand. He didn’t put up a front or say something flirty to lighten the mood, and when he touched my cheek, the room went quiet and there didn’t seem to be anyone for miles near us. We were alone at that bar, it seemed, locked in a look, frozen by a broken memory that was bittersweet and vivid.
Dario’s eyes went soft, his mouth tempting and sweet. Fleetingly, I wondered if he tasted the same and I gave in to the moment, letting him watch me, my breath stilted the closer he came to me.
He was inches from me, those dark, soulful eyes unblinking as he moved his fingers, placing them on my neck, urging me forward. I could take what I wanted from him. No one would complain. No one would stop us.
An inch between our lips, his breath warm, tickling my cheek and I moved closer, a flick of my gaze at his eyes, and Dario smirked. It was going to happen right here, in front of people I didn’t know, people that knew him best. His past and present likely colliding as the conversation in the dining room went quiet.
I could fall for Dario. Hell, I might have already.
Me and a Carelli?
Then, my father’s smug smile moved into my head and rushed forward with another memory. Of Dario at that gala, scanning the ballroom, his lip curling when Liam grabbed the back of my neck.
“Why the fuck is Dario Carelli giving me those eyes?” my husband asked, watching Dario as sharply as he stared at us. Liam looked between Dario, then back at me, spotting how my gaze lingered on him. “Shit, baby, you got a thing for a Carelli?”
“Of course not.”
He glanced between us again, jerking me close. “So if I went over there and fucked him up right him in front of his family—”
“You wanna start a war?”
His smile lowered, curling into a sneer. “Might be worth it.”
But he knew better and being this close to Dario, anticipating what could happen, I realized I did too. He’d done five years because I’d had a need to make Liam jealous. Because I was careless. Guilt flooded inside me, weighed me down like an anchor. I couldn’t start anything with him. Not
like this. Not until I’d worked up the nerve to tell him my part in the raid on his bar.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Stiffening, I dipped my head, unable to watch the disappointment on Dario’s face.
“I’m just looking at you, darlin’. No harm in that.” He lifted my chin, moving his thumb across my bottom lip.
Too easy, I thought, hating myself for letting Liam interrupt the moment and forgetting just who Dario was. “I think there could be a lot of harm between the two of us.”
“You scared?”
“Of you? No.” My throat felt thick, heavy and I grabbed the wine, drinking deep. God, why wouldn’t my heart stop racing? Finally, I exhaled, figuring he’d appreciate honesty. “And…yes.”
Dario tilted his head, his frown deep, worried. “I would never do what Shane—”
“I know that.” I inhaled again, savoring the smell of his cologne and the warmth of his hand on my face before I pulled on his wrist and sat up straighter, away from him. “But you don’t strike me as the type who can relinquish control.”
He stood straight, folding his arms together, frowning like my small rejection was some sort of foreign concept. Dario Carelli probably hadn’t received a lot of refusals in his life.
“What has that got to do with anything?”
“Everything.” It was the truth. I wouldn’t be bossed around. Not ever again. “I’ve had enough cavemen. Not my type anymore.”
“I’m a caveman?”
“You just told me you were devising ways to handle my ex even though that isn’t your battle. It never was. I own that. It’s mine.”
“Sweetheart, that’s justice. And yeah, maybe I am a caveman,” his grin was slow, sultry and very damn dangerous, “but I promise you, you’d love my cave.”
“Thanks, but no.” I tossed back the remainder of my wine, glancing toward the kitchen again to see if my dinner was ready.
“You might like someone taking control of you.” Dario’s touch on my arm was warm, gripping and some small part of me liked it. But then he slipped his fingers over my hand, rubbing my knuckles, teasing like he knew what it did to me, and I stiffened. “You’d love me making you scream. Having no inhibitions. Me over you, inside you, guiding you.” His voice reminded me of whiskey and as he came close again, I caught the smell of bourbon from his breath. It reminded me of decadence and sin, both I was sure Dario knew well. It made my heartbeat drum again. “Making you pant and shake and take everything I have. You asking for more.”
“Dario…”
He got so close I could feel the outline of his piercing against my bottom lip. “Just say please, darlin’…”
It was a demand that doused my insides, freezing any stroke of desire that his attention had stirred in me. I jerked back, standing from the stool, my head shaking as I stared him straight on. “Never.”
He was going to say something. It was right there in the rising grin, in the challenge I saw clearly in his eyes, but before he could speak, his mother’s sweet voice moved across the room as she made her way for us.
“Ava, here you are.” She lifted the bag between her fingers, offering it to me. “No, no, don’t you dare,” she said when I reached into my bag for my wallet. “You just go home and enjoy.”
I nodded, glancing but not looking directly at Dario. “Thanks, Mrs. C., you’re too good to me.”
“It’s my job, love.” She kissed my cheek, and I didn’t miss the quick look she gave her son before she moved back toward the kitchen.
He didn’t try to stop me when I threw my bag over my shoulder and walked away from the bar, but then his low, amused laugh hit me and I straightened my back, lifting my chin, knowing he watched me.
“You have a good night, Miss Anderson.” Dario’s voice was even, stern but I didn’t miss the small tease hiding behind his words. There was a taunt, a bit of a tease and beyond that? A promise I told myself I hoped he never kept.
I’d made an artform of lying. It was the only way I survived the worst of what Liam could do to me. But just then I knew when it came to me not wanting Dario, I was only lying to myself.
14
Dario
The flowers hadn’t been touched. They were in the same vase I’d picked out that morning. The only evidence they’d even been handled was the broken seal on the card. Underneath my messy scribble of, “Truce? How about a redo on that date?” Ave had written two words that shouldn’t have been insulting but were.
“No thanks.”
“Merda,” I muttered, wincing when my mother pinched my shoulder. “Sorry, Ma.”
She looked down at the card tsking. “My sweet boy, when are you going to learn?” She grabbed a white rose from the vase, smiling as she inhaled. “That Ava, she’s a rare woman.”
Lifting my hands, I bit my tongue, not wanting to insult my mother with the smartass comment that sat on my tongue. Instead, I left the desk, moving to the window to watch the bakery across the street.
“She’s a pain in the ass.” Ma clicked her tongue, and I dropped my shoulders, rubbing my face when she stood next to me. “She thinks I’m too bossy.”
Ma laughed, covering her grin with a smile.
“What?” I moved my chin, nodding to her mouth and at the piss poor job at hiding her amusement. “What’s with the giggle?”
“Dario, you are bossy.” When I frowned at her, Ma shook her head, hand on her hip as though daring me to argue. Lanzo and Rickey moved in front of the window, and I nodded at them, not interested in my mother’s lecture. She was easy to read, and the head shake alone told me she had one geared up for me.
“Ma, I’m not in the mood.”
“You are bossy and so is Dimitri and Toni and, Madonna, your father. But, you are who you are. No one is trying to change you.” She took my hand, holding it to her mouth. “Ava is a good woman who has had many hardships.” I jerked a look at her, wondering what she knew about Ava’s problems. They’d spent time together, but did my mother know who she was and who was responsible for her hardships?
“What has she told you?” She had my full attention now but wouldn’t look directly at me. “Ma?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She glanced through the window then finally looked up at me. “The real question is, are you giving up?”
I dropped my mouth open, scrubbing my face when Ma gave me her expectant, impatient stare. “I don’t chase women. Especially not ones who don’t want me.”
“Si? Since when?” I opened my mouth to argue, but she covered it, holding up a finger to keep me quiet. “You don’t think I knew all the foolish things you boys did when you thought I wasn’t looking? All those poor girls—”
“They weren’t so innocent—”
She ignored the excuse like I hadn’t made it. “All the fathers and brothers having quiet arguments with your father because you’d done something with their daughters or sisters you had no business doing.”
“I wasn’t the only one.” She waved her hand, dismissing me and I released an exhale, getting pissed she wasn’t getting to her point. “Ma, I’m not a kid anymore chasing girls after gym class.”
“I know this, son, because that boy, no matter how stubborn he was, would never give up on a woman he cared for.” She nodded toward the window, and I followed her direction. “Not when he knew that woman cared for him too.”
Ava stood at her door laughing with Angelica as Mr. Ricks spoke, then turned, his hands heavy with a pastry box. She couldn’t see inside the window, and I was glad. God knew what Angelica would say about me staring at Ava. I didn’t need her helping to convince Ava not to be with me.
“She’s being stubborn. Not even giving me a damn chance to make things right—”
“Dario, stop.” My mother shook her head, frowning. I hated that I’d put that look on her face. “What’s wrong with you? What the hell happened to my son?”
It was the same argument Dimitri and I had before Mateo got snatched and he clocked me, trying to remind me of the balle
r I used to be. Everyone kept asking me who I was and what had happened to the old me. But he was gone, and that asshole wasn’t coming back.
“Things are different now.”
“You care about her?” That glare turned critical, and I couldn’t look away, giving her a quick nod that seemed to ease her worry. “Good. She cares about you.” I moved my eyebrows up, wondering how my mother knew, but she shook her head, stopping my question before I could get it out. “She hasn’t told me anything, but I see things, son, and what I see between the two of you is something you don’t just give up on.” Ma lifted her chin. “Not my kid. Not anyone with our blood.”
She pulled on my wrist, leading me down the hallway and through the dining room, not giving the customers she met more than a quick smile as she brought me to the entrance. “We didn’t raise cowards or quitters, Dario.” She pushed on my back, and I walked through the door, catching my mother’s quick lecture as I left. “Be nice and show off a little of that Carelli charm.”
Every step I took fed more confidence in me. “Little brother, I want you to remember who you are,” Dimitri’d told me after he socked my in the chin, and now Ma was repeating the same wisdom. Who I was might be gone, but I was still a Carelli. Even if Ava wouldn’t admit it, there was something between us, something that had been there even back when I was a punk sneaking a smoke and she was Shane’s hungry, broken wife.
It was time I reminded her.
Angelica left the shop, her bag slung over her shoulder by the time I made it across the street. There was no traffic on the sidewalk and no customers in the shop when I slipped through the door.
“Be just a minute,” Ava called from somewhere beyond the front counter. When she cleared the corner, coming from the kitchen, a wide, welcoming smile on her face, I almost decided to leave. No one had ever turned me down so quickly and despite what my Ma thought, Ava didn’t seem the type to let go of a decision once she made it.
