Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
“What… what are you doing?” He pulls back, doing the complete opposite of what I expected. He gently sets me on my feet, still towering over me, his chest heaving, his dark hair disheveled from my fingers, and his lips wet from our kiss.
“I got some sage advice from Rafe, Dom, and Vik after you gave me the universal sign and stormed out of the office,” he says, a beguiling grin tugging at the corner of his lips. He looks down at me, taking a steadying breath as he fights for control yet clearly unable to do so when he lets out a low, rough laugh, shaking his head.
“Advice? From them?” I blink, thoroughly confused because two out of three of them went about a relationship the wrong way. Oh, who am I kidding? All of them have, and obviously, Dante is in the same situation.
“Apparently, I’m doing this all wrong,” he admits, his eyes softening around the edges. “According to the peanut gallery in Vik’s office, dragging you into closets, forcing rings on your finger, and throwing you over my shoulder isn’t technically considered courting you. Dom said I’m acting like a barbarian, Rafe said I’ll give you an ulcer, and Vik told me if I don’t slow down, you’re going to hire a hitman.”
“They’re not wrong.” A small laugh escapes my lips. “What did Nolan say?” I ask. He’s always seemed like the more level-headed one.
“That’s easy. He said I’m supposed to get to know my wife,” Dante continues, stepping back to give me enough room to breathe, though he’s still laser-focused on me. “He also said I need to listen to you, talk to you, and learn what makes that pretty head of yours tick when you’re not screaming or coming beneath me. The last part I added in.”
I stare at him, completely thrown off balance. The man who’s been bulldozing my life for the last forty-eight hours is now standing in my home, admitting he’s taking relationship advice from his friends.
“So,” he continues, turning around and walking over to my eggplant-colored velvet chair. He sits down, kicks his long, muscular legs out in front of him, and stretches his arms behind his head, lacing his fingers together. “I’m going to sit right here. I’m going to let you talk, let you vent, and let you ask whatever the hell you want.”
“You’re serious?” I stand near the sofa, my hands resting on my hips and brows furrowed as I study him.
“Dead serious, wife,” Dante replies. “I told you I’m not going anywhere. If you need us to talk before we do anything else, then we’ll talk. Start firing questions. What do you want to know about your husband?”
“Alright, I guess we’re starting at the top.” I step around the couch, sit down, crossing my legs, and think of all of the questions I’m about to fire his way.
CHAPTER NINE
dante
“Alright, where do I begin?” she asks, tapping her finger against her bottom lip. Christ, keeping my hands to myself is sheer torture and remaining my seat is taking herculean effort. “Let’s start with the basics. Age.”
“Forty,” I answer instantly with a smirk.
“Birthday?”
“November seventh. I’m a Scorpio, in case you were planning on checking our astrological compatibility.” Alexandria lets out an exasperated breath.
“That explains the moodiness. Clearly, you have a sister?” She settles in her seat, the hem of her shirt lifting up and revealing a smooth expanse of her soft stomach.
“Two, both younger. One’s a Sagittarius and one is a Scorpio.” It made for some knockdown drag-out fights when my sisters were younger, at least that’s what they blamed it on. All I could do was get between the two and pray not to get hit, slapped, or punched.
Alexandria slides open a drawer and pulls out a notepad and pen, then writes a few notes down before she looks up at me again.
“Your poor parents. Favorite color?”
“Black.” She pauses in her note taking and raises and eyebrow. “Black isn’t a color, Dante. It’s a shade.”
“It was the color of my soul before I saw you in the hotel lounge,” I reply, winking at her. “Fine. Charcoal or whatever shade of green your eyes turn when you’re thoroughly pissed off at me.”
“Where do you actually live? Besides your office or the penthouse?” I catch the slight twitch of her lips trying not to smile.
“The penthouse is for Monday through Friday. On the weekends, I’ve got a place on the water in Medina. It’s quiet, private, gated, and has plenty of room for you to do whatever you want.” She jots down another note, her eyes darting back to mine. “Any other siblings?”
“Two brothers. Parents are divorced. Those are my half-brothers. You’ll meet them eventually. Though I’m warning you now, they’re younger by about twenty or so years and a handful.” Whereas Mom remained single after the divorce, raising me and my sisters, Dad remarried a few times before settling on his current wife, and they proceeded to have two children. A hell of a time to start over again, but I guess as long as he’s happy.