CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Dante

IT WAS WEDNESDAY.

It had been six days since I’d kissed her.

Six days of lonely torture, sleeping with a pillow over my ears while trying not to listen to my sister and her new husband.

Sleeping with this aching need that wouldn’t leave.

Everything reminded me of her.

Every. Damn. Thing.

I suddenly hated breakfast because she wasn’t sharing it with me, and when I drove to school without her by my side, I ended up spending more time punching the steering wheel than actually driving.

I’d stopped off at Nixon’s in a moment of weakness to see if I could take El to school only to have her already gone. And see Mil waltz in with a huge smile on her face as she grabbed Chase’s hand and jerked him down the hall.

As if nothing had even fucking happened.

I’d had to look away, the joy on his face was too much, like maybe, finally, whatever shit she’d been doing was done, she was his again.

It forced me to drive to class early so I wouldn’t glare at her across the table or say something I’d regret.

And driving to school early just left me alone with my thoughts way too much. And was obviously bad for the steering wheel of my new SUV.

The one Mil could have easily seen.

I’d been careless.

Because I was that desperate to see El.

Once I found an empty space, I killed the ignition and rubbed my temples with my fingers, digging into the constant headache with such force I saw spots.

I waited for the inevitable.

For the minute El would get out of the car.

Five minutes.

Four.

Three.

Two.

I sucked in a breath as the black Mercedes pulled up. She slowly got out, adjusting her skirt. My eyes lowered, God those legs were incredible, shoving my face between them had surpassed every vivid fantasy I’d ever had about her. My mouth fucking watered for more, my body strained toward her as she pulled off her sunglasses and shoved them in her messenger bag.

And before I could stop myself, I was getting out of my car.

I was maybe two feet away from her when a body blocked my view.

A very Chris like body.

He pulled her in for a hug and yelled. “Surprise!”

I almost puked my guts out right on the sidewalk then pulled Nixon’s gun on him and fired two rounds.

The Hell?

Before she could even say anything, Chris was kissing her mouth.

Correction. My mouth.

My body.

I licked that body, up and down, inside and out.

I swayed on my feet and watched, waited for her to push him away, to say he wasn’t what she wanted.

Instead, she hung her head and then smiled up at him. “It’s good to see you too.”

The knife twisted into my gut, and twisted, and twisted. She looked past him, directly at me.

And then looked away.

Like I was just a figment of her imagination.

Like I didn’t exist at all.

I don’t know how long I stood there, watching them walk to class, it was at least ten minutes until I was able to shove the angry haze of jealousy far enough into my brain to actually function by putting one foot in front of the other.

I was completely useless during class and only managed to catch half the material my business communications professor said.

When class ended I jumped out of my seat and went in search of El.

Her class wasn’t out yet.

I waited by the door.

When I saw the outline of her body, when I smelled her perfume mixed with that shampoo that smelled like peaches, I snatched her back against me, pinning her against the wall.

I tilted her chin toward me, her skin was softer than I remembered six days ago, her eyes more clear.

Her lower lip trembled.

I ran my thumb across it and closed my eyes as I leaned forward and inhaled. She’d always smelled so damn good, like fruit and vanilla cream.

“You left,” El accused.

“No choice.” I kept my eyes closed, if I looked at her, I’d want her more than I already did and my control was already snapping with every inhale, with every small innocent touch of my hands against her skin.

“If you didn’t want me around you could have just told me, you didn’t have to flee the house, Dante.”

My eyes snapped open. “Is that what you really think? That I don’t want you around?”

Her glare said it all.

“My tongue was inside you,” I reminded her. “You were naked, shaking beneath me, I spread these thighs,” I kicked her legs apart, shoving my knee in between them. She let out a little gasp. “Licked between these gorgeous legs,” I hissed. “And you think I don’t want you around?”

El didn’t say anything, her cheeks tinged pink as she swallowed and looked down. “Why?”

“Because you aren’t mine,” I pressed my cheek against hers, my lips rubbed against her ear. “Had I stayed. You would be. In every way. And I’m not that much of a bastard to take everything from you — when you’re leaving.” She was quiet. “You are leaving still, right?”

Her eyes locked on mine. “Give me a reason to stay.”

“I’m carrying a gun in my jeans, a knife in my boot, and hits on three different people right now, you wanna stay? For that?”

“No.” She kissed my cheek and whispered, “But I would stay for you.”

Before I could ask what she meant, she was already shuffling through the crowds of students going to class.

I slammed my hand against the wall, hey at least it wasn’t the steering wheel this time.

“Lady troubles?” Andrei’s voice was really starting to grate on my nerves.

“Always,” I lied. “Something I can do for you?”

“Business… is good.”

I nodded. “Great. What’s that have to do with me?”

“You help us with the next shipment, distribution, and we’ll give you a big cut. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like a really easy way to go to prison.” I sighed. “So I guess I’m in. Does this mean I get to find out who we’re working with?”

I used we on purpose so he’d think of me as being on their side.

When I wanted to kill them all.

“You don’t need details.”

I gritted my teeth. “Actually since it’s my life I think I do need details. Especially since I’m most likely doing all of this against my own family — I joined you — basically spat in the Italians’ face and now you say I don’t need details?”

He shoved me against the wall. “Not here.”

“Where then?” I was done being patient.

He looked from left to right. “It would be presumptuous to assume that you’re irreplaceable.”

“Then call me presumptuous.” I grinned.

He scowled. “We’ll be in touch, it’s a big shipment, there will be no fights this week, we have to keep a low profile during this time.”

By we, he meant him.

The only son left in the Petrov family.

The youngest of them all.

And somehow, the most dangerous.

Because a man who had nothing left to lose — against men who had everything to lose?

It never ended well.