CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

El

SERGIO AND PHOENIX didn’t join us for dinner, they bypassed all the wine and food — very unusual for any Italian, and went in search of Dante.

And for the second night in a row, Chase didn’t move from his spot, nor did his eyes leave Mil’s, it seemed like she was trying after the previous night, not that it mattered, things were breaking — broken.

I was too afraid to ask him if he was okay in front of her. It felt like something was breaking, shifting, and home suddenly wasn’t as safe as it once was.

Not with the way Frank watched Mil.

Or the way Chase watched Frank.

Nixon didn’t catch on, but he had a six-month-old in his arms.

Trace however kept looking back at everyone.

Mil finally stood and eyed Chase. “Want to go watch a movie?”

“Code word for sex?” Chase tried teasing.

A small smile hit her lips. “Probably.”

They were faking it.

Everyone knew it but them.

He followed her out.

I sagged in relief.

Until Nixon spoke. “I’ll deal with it.”

Eyes wide I waited for Frank to say something. Instead, he just leaned back in his chair and grabbed the newspaper. “Enjoy your daughter while she’s young. He sighed. “Dante’s already on it.”

Nixon froze. “The hell he is—”

“Let him.” Trace touched Nixon’s face. “Please, just… let someone else draw blood for once, okay?”

His body was rigid, his mannerisms jerky as he touched his forehead to Trace’s and nodded. “All right.”

I stood and started clearing plates when Nixon’s hand shot out and grabbed my arm, pulling me back down into my seat.

I dropped the plates and waited for whatever he was going to say. It was always hard looking directly at him, he was ruthless, dangerous, he was just like Dante only I knew the blood he had on his hands. Nixon Abandonato was a nightmare in the flesh.

“How are things with Chris?” He asked casually digging into his food.

I sagged in relief. “Um, good, they’re good.”

“You think you’ll feel safe with him?”

I hesitated.

I don’t know why.

“Safe.” I repeated the ugly word. “Is just a fantasy parents tell their children, a bed time story to help them sleep better at night. Is any one of us, ever safe?”

“No.” Nixon smiled at me, stunning me into silence with his beauty. “I wondered how long it would take for you to figure that out.”

“What?”

“Just think about it.” He nodded. “You can go now, but leave the dishes for Chase, it’s his turn.”

I couldn’t get out of the dining room fast enough.

My normal routine was homework and TV in my room.

Shutting myself away from the world.

Away from Dante.

And now, now that I’d left the bathroom door open, now that I’d been in his world a part of it.

It felt wrong to lock myself in my room like a prison.

Maybe that was what I’d been doing all along.

They’d brought me to a home.

And I’d turned it into a jail cell because I was afraid.

I was still afraid.

But not of the same things I used to be afraid of.

I used to be afraid of the way men looked at me.

Now?

Now I was afraid of the day when a certain man would watch me with those crystal blue eyes — as I walked down the aisle into the arms of another.

My legs carried me down to the training rooms where Dante normally kicked ass or had his ass handed to him.

The sound of fighting filed the room.

The smell of sweat.

Blood.

A few weeks ago, I would have run out screaming.

And now, now I was curious.

What had Dante done to me?

I took a step inside and watched.

Dante had no shirt on.

Neither did Phoenix or Sergio.

It should be illegal to see that much naked muscle in such a small space.

I shivered as Dante lunged for Phoenix.

“Stop.” He held up his hands. “Remember your goal is to get away not attack, it’s completely opposite of what you know, but that’s what Krav Maga is. Now, lean in with your right hand, you can’t just poke eyes out with that much force, you’ll just impale eye balls onto your fingers like skewers or end up punching rather than poking.”

“Love it when he says poke,” Dante said under his breath much to the amusement of Sergio who watched on the sidelines.

I laughed with him.

All eyes turned to me.

I held up my hands. “Sorry, I was just… watching.”

“I bet you were.” Dante grinned.

I rolled my eyes.

Sergio nodded to me. “Come on in, watch Dante get his ass kicked, it’s great entertainment.”

Dante flipped him off.

I walked to Sergio’s side as Phoenix approached Dante again, he was leaner than Dante, but not lacking any muscle whatsoever.

Dante evaded one of Phoenix’s punches, reached in with his right hand and stopped right before his pointer finger hit Phoenix’s eyelash.

“Nice,” Sergio said approvingly. “Again.”

They did the same movement about a dozen more times before Dante joined me and it was Sergio’s turn.

“You were good at that,” I said lamely.

Dante threw his head back and laughed. “It’s more brain than muscle, it’s difficult to tell my body to speed up with quicker movements when I just want to pull my gun or knock someone out.”

I frowned. “So why learn it?”

“Because it makes you lethal,” he said seriously. “And because Phoenix is the best at it, he taught Trace how to fight, you know that?”

I felt my face light up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Dante eyed my mouth and then looked away. “So she wouldn’t be afraid.”

“I never said I couldn’t fight.”

“Ah but can you fight well?”

I shrugged. “That a challenge, Nicolasi?”

“You gonna let her talk shit to you, Dante?

“Maybe I like getting talked to like that.” He sucked in his bottom lip and followed up with one of the sexiest grins I’d ever seen in my entire life.

Phoenix hit him on the shoulder. “Yeah, I think that means we break, don’t forget what we talked about, Dante.”

Sergio didn’t move.

Phoenix rubbed his chin with his hand. “You coming, Serg?”

“I’m not sure.” Sergio crossed his arms. “I mean how many times were you a dick to me over your sister? Interrupting things you had no business interrupting. Raising hell,” He laughed when Dante looked ready to charge him with a knife. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, but you owe me, Dante.”

“Make a list,” Dante snapped.

Sergio and Phoenix laughed and closed the door behind them.

Blanketing us in a tense silence.

Dante pinned me with another heady look before he jerked his chin at me. “Rule number one, no shirts in the ring.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Even for girls?”

His voice lowered as he grabbed a piece of the cotton material between his fingers and tugged. “Especially for girls.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? I mean these rules, are they written down somewhere?”

He tapped his head with one finger. “Locked up here, besides, why would I lie to you?”

“Why indeed?” I jerked the shirt over my head before I lost my nerve. At least I was wearing a black sports bra, it still left nothing to the imagination thanks to Victoria’s Secret and their new sports line.

Dante’s look swallowed me whole, like he was already envisioning tasting, taking.

“Any more rules?” I put my hands on my hips.

“Just one.” He approached until we were almost chest to chest, I could smell his sweat and had a sudden urge to run my hands down his chest, and see if they’d slide against his smooth skin. “No lies in the ring. You have to be able to trust who you spar with.”

I kept my expression guarded as I agreed with a quick. “Okay.”

“All right.” He was back to fight mode. “Show me what you go—”

I swung at his jaw, he stumbled back as my hit landed its mark.

His stunned expression was worth it as I charged again this time, landing a round house kick to his stomach before he could ask me who taught me how to fight.

“What the hell?” Dante hissed then stomped toward me.

Oh shit.

I blocked his next two punches before he landed one to my stomach, I flexed against it and tried to throw him over my shoulder.

But he was too big.

Too heavy.

Too good.

He laughed.

Actually laughed against my ear like I was tickling him.

I jerked free and tried to hit him again, this time he caught my right hand, my left, and when I tried to land a kick he gripped my ankle and jerked twisting me into the air until I landed with a huff on my side.

“You know exactly three different ways to surprise your assailant enough to get away.” He knelt next to me and grinned. “But you’re rusty.”

“Ouch.” I rubbed my stomach.

He didn’t apologize.

I would have been pissed if he did.

“Who taught you to fight?”

I shrugged. “Maybe I’m self-taught.”

“Bullshit.”

I sighed. “It’s… does it matter?”

He surveyed my stomach running his hands down where I knew I was going to bruise. “It matters to me.”

“Papa.” I cleared my throat. “My Grandpa was a boxer who loved a bit of Jiu Jitsu. He taught me before… everything.”

“Did you fight them?” Rage laced his tone. “Did you try to kill them before they took you?”

“I did.” I swallowed. “And so did my papa. He died trying to save me… I didn’t know it at the time, but he helped secure the fights for a lot of the Petrovs. He wasn’t what I would call a good man, but I loved him.” I blinked away a few tears.

“You don’t love things because their inherently good El, sometimes you just love people for who they are — for where they’re at. You don’t have to love actions, you can love the person despite what they do.”

“I loved him, despite what he did.” I left out the part where whenever I saw his face I thought of my dead parents as well.

“Do you blame him for getting taken by the Petrovs? Sold to Xavier for his own pleasure?”

“Twenty questions, huh?” I said nervously.

“It’s not like we have a lot of time, El.”

It made me sadder, made the tears fill my eyes faster than my papas own death. “It made me hate them. But I never blamed my papa for not being able to keep me safe — because I’d like to think that somehow, his memory is what helped keep me alive.”

“Sometimes memories are all we have.” Dante cupped my face.

“Yeah.” I gulped.

He leaned in.

I shouldn’t have met him halfway.

And when our lips were a breath apart.

He stopped.

“El.”

“Yeah.”

“Make this memory a good one.”

He crushed his mouth to mine.

And the first tear of many I would cry over Dante Nicolasi, fell.