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)
Camille nods so enthusiastically that the curls around her adorable face bounce. The relief that washes over her is so pure that my offer seems less reckless. Nothing can surpass the love a mother has for her child, so although I’ll still worry about becoming attached, when push comes to shove, I’ll always place Gabriele first. Right?
Although this is precisely what Dante was aiming for weeks ago, he doesn’t immediately agree to my suggestion. He stares at me, his gaze uneasy.
I’m certain he’s going to refuse, so you can picture my shock when he says, “How much?”
I balk, thrown off guard. “What?”
“How much to watch her?”
His question races bile up my esophagus. “I’m not charging you to spend time with Camille.”
“You either get paid what you deserve for time served”—his clipped tone leaves no room for argument—“or she leaves with me.”
Camille’s excitement crumples, and I shoot her father a glare rueful enough to cut glass. “I’m not charging you to watch—”
He taps his fingers on the classifieds next to my mug, interrupting me. “It isn’t like any of these will work out for you.”
Humiliation and anger knot in my chest. “You don’t know that. There’s been a ton of new advertisements over the past week.”
I’m a terrible liar, and Dante knows this. He ignores my underhanded jab that he can’t control every adult entertainment industry in the country. His eyes only narrow when he drags them over the figures shown in a handful of ads.
“You made what… around thirty thousand a month dancing?”
I do a double take, baffled how he knows that, but certain I don’t want to dig for answers.
“I’ll match it,” he continues, his composure unyielding. “As long as you’re on call for Camille twenty-four-seven.”
His disinterest in including himself in the negotiation hurts more than I expect.
I drench my throat with spit, hopeful it will stop my voice from croaking. “We’ll talk about this later.”
He doesn’t acknowledge my suggestion.
He doesn’t even glance at me.
“I’ll deposit the first month of service into your account by the close of business,” he says, already pulling away from the conversation. Then, finally, his eyes find mine. He studies me with a look I can’t decipher. It scours me, leaving cold, raw shame crawling over my skin. I feel dirty instead of wanted. “Unless you’d prefer cash.”
What I want is for him to stop splintering under the weight of the burden he’s carrying. I want him to stop looking at me like I’m a ghost he used to know.
I also want him to stay.
Since I can’t say that, I mumble, “Whatever is easiest.”
I have no intention of taking his money, but that conversation can wait until we’re not being eyeballed like circus freaks. Even Luna’s head bounces like a spectator at a tennis match, and royalty fights in front of her.
Dante’s jaw twitches again, but he gives a curt nod before turning to face Camille. He hesitates when her expression indicates she wants him to stay. It’s brief, but I catch it.
He hugs Camille and reminds her to use her manners. Then he walks out without a backward glance. When the bell over the door chimes again, it signifies the sudden emptiness he leaves behind.
The diner feels colder without him, and the air is heavier.
I muster a smile for Camille, who’s already reaching for her fork again, her hands shaky. “All right, sweetheart,” I say softly. “Finish eating, and then we’ll go to the park.”
Sheepishly smiling, she shovels a forkful of pancakes into her mouth, using sugar as a shield from the pain drumming under my ribs.
Over the next ten minutes, while using a mug to hide my grimace, I try not to think about Dante’s expression when I accepted his cash offer. I can’t let it affect me or it might crack open something I’m not ready to examine just yet.
Chapter 20
Dante
As I pull through the compound gates, I fight to simmer my still-rocketing pulse. During the commute, I try to untangle my thoughts, which were a mess from my confrontation with Edoardo before my bad display of sportsmanship with Lucia and Camille at the diner doubled them.
It’s a woeful waste of time.
I didn’t mean to go into the diner so arrogantly, but my mind was reeling.
Lucia is married.
If that isn’t bad enough, she’s matrimonially tied to a shitkicker of the Cosa Nostra.
Your position on the ladder doesn’t matter. Just being on a rung introduces rules that can’t be ignored. They’re the rules I’m trying to alter, but my goal was to have them changed by the time Camille was of age. Now the timeline is extremely rigid.
I don’t handle stress well, especially when most scenarios point to me disappointing my daughter.
As I enter my family home, I hear shouting coming from the study. When I walk in, four pairs of recognizable eyes lock on me. Giovanni is behind the desk, Matteo paces back and forth, and Nico and Elio lean against the only solid wall with their arms crossed, bracing for impact.