Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
His exhale is as resigned as his words. “She’s Camille’s mother.”
His confession rearranges everything I thought I understood. “Oh… I wasn’t aware she was a part of Camille’s life.”
“She’s not. She was, but—”
“Are you trying to keep Camille away from her mother?” I ask, too hurt by my own circumstances not to be a voice for other women in a similar situation.
Dante’s eyes flash with wounded pride. “No. I would never keep a child from their mother.”
My lips quiver as I start to speak. “Then why say she was part of her life but isn’t anymore?”
The protectiveness in his eyes curdles my stomach. “Because I can’t offer her an olive branch until I’m confident Camille is safe with her.”
Safe? The worry displayed in that one word chills me to the core.
“Safe from what?” I ask, though part of me already knows.
He hesitates only long enough to make sure I have the courage to hear what he needs to say.
“Camille’s mother is an addict.” He wets his lips before coughing to slacken the croaks of his throat. “I don’t know how long she’s been using, but it’s not something she seems ready to defeat yet.”
Another realization smacks into me. I thought the way he carried Camille’s mother down the corridor last week was out of tenderness. But it wasn’t that. He wasn’t comforting her. He was protecting his daughter—just like I had done the night he came home drunk. Or worse.
“Did you use that night you left with her?”
He appears confused but immediately fires back, “No.” He scrubs at his jaw, tracing a tremor there, before locking eyes with me to make sure I see the honesty of his reply. “But I can’t say that with utmost certainty. I can’t remember what happened that night… or that whole day.” The vulnerability projected in his eyes when he stops hiding from me affects me more than any confession could. “I’m not trying to keep secrets from you, Lucia. I don’t want to be that man. Not with you.” My heart flips for every truth I hear in his words. “I could have gone on a bender to forget the family court stuff I’m wading through, but I don’t understand why I would. I have a solid case… Well, I did. I don’t anymore.”
I blink, trying to understand. “Family court? Why are you going to family court when you have access to the most bigamist laws in the world?”
A slow smile curves his mouth, unexpectedly comforting me. “I don’t want to follow those rules. I want new ones that don’t favor men of the Cosa Nostra solely because of their gender. Ones that don’t trap women or punish them for things they can’t control.” His voice deepens with conviction. “I want Camille to have as many rights as I do. And I want you to have them, too.”
I stagger back, shocked. He doesn’t want a future where women stand two feet back and only speak when spoken to. He wants them to be equal. He’s building something better, and he’s looking at me like he wants me to be part of it.
Terrifyingly slowly, the truth shrouds me.
I’m not falling for this man.
I’ve fallen.
“I…” I try to tell him I’m unworthy of his efforts, but just like my heart can’t deny what my head finally acknowledges, I can’t speak these words either.
I’m a good person. I deserve to be respected and loved the way he’s endeavoring to respect and love me, and his new-age approach to his family’s legacy deserves a standing ovation.
Although it will make everything harder, and the thought terrifies me, I don’t pull back when Dante steps closer. He’s strong enough to help me through this. I just need to be brave enough to tell him everything.
There’s only one thing I need to take care of first.
The pain that hasn’t left his eyes for even a second.
It was there before we knew how unwell Camille was, and it hasn’t relinquished control of his senses for even a second since she recovered.
It’s a hurt I caused, so I need to fix it.
“Lucia—”
Propelling myself onto my tippy-toes, I kiss him before another word can leave his mouth.
Shock is Dante’s initial reaction to my boldness, but he quickly recovers. As his arms band around my waist, he returns my embrace.
We kiss for several long minutes, our hands as exploratory as our tongues.
I’ve unbuttoned Dante’s dress shirt and am tackling his belt when the covers on my bed brush the undersides of my knees. Never pulling away from my mouth, he lays me on the bed, then wedges his trouser-covered thigh between my legs.
Layers of clothes separate us, but my clit responds as if we’re both naked. I grind against his thigh and breathe heavily into his mouth when the quickest rub shoots sparks across the lower half of my stomach.