“But you promised Antonio to keep his secret!”
“I know, but he’s dead, Frank, and I’m trying to move on. If Antonio were still alive, I’d take his secret to my grave, but the truth can’t hurt him anymore. And Dante won’t tell anyone in the Outfit anyway.”
“He won’t?” Frank asked hopefully. “What about me? You didn’t tell him my name?” The anxiety returned to his face with full force.
“No. I won’t. You are safe, but for it to stay that way, you need to stop hanging around on our street. It’s only stupid luck that none of Dante’s men have noticed you yet. And when they do, you’ll be in huge trouble. So do us both a favor and move on.”
“I can’t,” Frank said quietly. “Don’t you miss him? Don’t you want him back? Wouldn’t you do anything to have him back?”
“You should really leave. This doesn’t get us anywhere. I promise you are safe.”
Frank gripped my arm, stopping me from walking away. “Valentina—”
“Hands off,” a cool voice drawled from the shadows, and I let out a scream. Frank whirled around and tried to run away, but Enzo was there and pulled him into a headlock. Dante appeared beside me and grasped my arm in a steely grip.
He nodded toward the door to the warehouse. Enzo dragged Frank toward it, despite his struggling.
Dante glared at me. “So this is what you do when I’m not around? Meeting with other men?”
“No!” I protested, horrified that he would think that. “It’s not like you think.”
“He’s been lurking around the house twice now, Boss,” Enzo said, then grunted when Frank’s knee hit him in the groin.
“Explain,” Dante snarled. Enzo was still trying to stop Frank from kicking him. Frank was putting up a surprisingly good fight.
“It’s Frank,” I said quickly, self-preservation overriding my desire to protect Frank.
Dante’s grip on my arm loosened. “Antonio’s lover.”
That caught Enzo’s attention. He knew Antonio. The Outfit wasn’t that big of an organization that Made Men didn’t know each other.
Suddenly shots rang out from somewhere. Enzo cried out and clutched his arm, releasing Frank in the process. More shots rang out. One hit the wall two feet above my head. Dante pushed me to the ground and crouched in front of me, drew his own weapon, and fired into the direction where the shots were coming from. Enzo pulled his own gun, but his right hand was useless and it was obvious that he wasn’t used to shooting with his left hand. Frank was running as fast as his legs could carry him away from us toward the shadows. Dante pointed his gun at him. I jerked his hand away when he pulled the trigger and the bullet hit the ground, instead of Frank. “Valentina,” Dante snarled, taking aim again, but Frank had disappeared into the darkness. Dante glanced at Enzo, who was clutching his bleeding arm, muttering under his breath.
“What the fuck was that?” Dante asked, eyes blazing with fury as they held my own.
Shaking, I fought to calm myself before I could form a reply. “I don’t know! I thought he was alone. Frank doesn’t even know anyone who can shoot a gun.”
“You should have let me shoot him. Never interfere like that again.”
“He’s innocent. He doesn’t deserve death.”
“Bullshit. That guy laid a trap and you fucking walked into it,” Enzo muttered.
“What do you mean?” I asked carefully.
Dante shook his head. “Haven’t you wondered why he wanted to meet you? Maybe he’s been approached by the Russians and agreed to help them. They’d love to kill you.”
“Frank wouldn’t do that.”
“Are you sure?” No, I wasn’t. “The Bratva can be very convincing. Or maybe they offered him a substantial amount of money. Money makes sinners out of most saints.”
Enzo held up his phone. “Called reinforcement.”
“Come on,” Dante said, straightening up and holding out his hand for me. I took it and let him pull me to my feet, but my legs wobbled and I leaned on him for support for a couple of seconds. He let me do it, despite his anger, his hand strong and warm against my waist.
Clearing my throat, I finally straightened. “Do you really think it was a trap? I got the feeling Frank was lonely and wanted to talk to someone about Antonio.”
“Someone shot at us,” Dante said simply. I couldn’t argue with that. And Frank had definitely run in the direction of the shooters. Slowly I was starting to understand why Dante didn’t trust anyone.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, but Dante wasn’t looking my way. More of his men were running toward us from the direction of the casino. He barked orders at them and they spread out in the area to search for our attackers.
“Take Enzo to see our Doc,” Dante told another man, despite Enzo’s protests. Then Dante turned to me. “We’re going home now.”
I shivered at the anger in his voice. Dante urged me forward with a hand against my lower back. He didn’t talk as he led me toward the car, nor during the ride home. I kept glancing his way, trying to decide how much trouble I was in. “I’m really sorry.”
He ignored me, but a muscle in his jaw twitched. I turned back toward the passenger window. Dante parked the car in our garage and got out immediately. I followed him toward the house. Once inside, I headed straight for the bedroom, his fury practically burning my back as he walked behind me.
“I’m really sorry,” I tried again, then gasped when Dante threw the door shut and pressed me against it. I was sandwiched between his muscled body and the door, startled and confused but not scared. Dante was obviously careful not to hurt me.
“Why do you keep disobeying me, Valentina?” He shoved up my skirt and pulled my butt roughly against his groin, and his rock-hard erection. Wetness pooled between my legs. “I don’t know,” I said, trying to hide my excitement.
“That’s the wrong answer.” Dante pushed my panties—I wasn’t wearing tights, only garters—aside and slipped two fingers into me. Before I had time to articulate another answer, Dante replaced his fingers with his cock, slamming into me in one fierce stroke before he started to fuck me against the door. I was pretty sure he realized that was as far from a punishment as it could possibly get.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I quickly figured out that Dante fucking me against the door wasn’t his idea of punishment. That came in the days that followed. Dante treated me with even more coldness than before, and I barely got to see him because he was too busy looking for Frank and his accomplices. He didn’t seek me out at night anymore, and though I was too proud to admit it to him, my body longed for him to touch me again.
* * *
One afternoon, about one week after my messed-up meeting with Frank, I encountered Rocco Scuderi in the lobby of our house. “Valentina, good to see you,” he said on his way to the front door.
I smiled, although I was surprised. Scuderi always treated me with politeness and respect, but I didn’t have a personal relationship with him like I had with his wife, or with Aria.
“I have a favor to ask of you,” he said.