He strokes a piece of my hair with his bloody hand. It’s so fucked up. But it’s honest, raw, and real. I still don’t know if I can handle the likes of someone like Dante. Put him in his place, yes, but his unpredictability is a concern, because what if it snaps on me?
Yet I could never imagine it. Not in the way he looks at me now. Not in the way I feel safe sitting in his lap. And that defies all logic.
“But I don’t want to talk about my brother anymore,” he growls as he angles my head toward him, his hot breath wafting over my lips. And just as quickly as my heart hurt for him, it ignites with that wildfire that brings me to life.
I’ve used him these past months to help me forget, but I wonder how much of my body Dante uses for the same reason. His lips brush against mine as I let him take whatever he needs. Despite my scathing words, I’m glad he came back.
It doesn’t make any sense. But as I straddle the one man who has somehow become an anchor for me, I realize that the worldnever made sense before either. It’s just different, constantly moving, and it terrifies me that I might’ve found the one person who will remain by my side, embracing my shortcomings. Because he, himself, no matter how much he might beg to differ, is not perfect.
32
DANTE
“Is he awake?” I ask as I enter the fighting arena beneath Balmere. The club is closed, but even when it’s silent upstairs, no one would ever hear his screams. Much like no one is the wiser about the fights that occur down here—unless, of course, you're fortunate enough to be invited.
Andrei Popov is being held in a private room away from the arena because this undoubtedly is going to get messy.
“No, and he still looks near dead,” Sky says, swinging his leg back and forth as he hangs over the ring, watching me as I approach. Kage stands guarding the door, and Tyson is still on orders to remain inside until advised otherwise. “Did you get all patched up by the wifey?”
I can’t see Sky’s expression behind his mask, but I imagine he’s wearing a shit-eating grin. I don’t feel one bit guilty for arriving on her doorstep, bleeding, just so I can get a little attention. It’s the surest way I can tell that deep down, she cares about me.
It could be dangerous for me because I’m already considering a few extra wounds now and then might be a good idea. Nothinglethal, and never again something so embarrassing as being shot because I was caught in the crossfire. I still have some pride.
I flip him off and turn to Izak. “Have you found anything interesting?”
Izak casually lounges on one of the stadium chairs, typing away furiously.
They still wear their masks because we’re expecting a guest this morning. One whom I haven’t had the honor of personally meeting yet, but whom I’ve heard all about. Dmitri Volkov.
“I’m still looking,” Izak says. “Unlike his boss, Fyodor Novikov, this guy does not care about hiding his identity. He’s living his best life. Well, hewas.” He turns the screen so I can see it. Random images of Popov in various locations. Clubs, bars, libraries, and swimming pools. The man truly had no concern about his identity being picked up. “Came over on a flight a year ago. Has a dual citizenship.”
My eyebrows furrow. “Interesting. Can you see who he’s related to? Maybe his parents or siblings might lead us to more information.”
“Both parents are recorded as dead. His mother allegedly had a daughter at sixteen, but she was placed into the foster system, so she's a bit trickier to find.”
“But not impossible,” I remind him, already aware that he would’ve gone down every rabbit hole possible. I’m looking for any type of string to follow, because unless this man tells me exactly what I need to hear, we’ll only be chasing our tails once again. And I want this finished before Ara gives birth. I’d promised Luca that, and I’ll keep to my word, especially now that he’ll be riding my ass for my involvement with Romi.
I won’t give her up, nor will I give up this position.
“I don’t even get a personal greeting anymore?” a man calls out from atop the stairs. I know who he is without anintroduction. Dmitri is handsome, his hair shaved close to his scalp, showcasing the glaring scar after his brain surgery.
Dmitri Volkov is the closest person who could be considered a friend to the Armani family. Luca wouldn’t put his neck out for many, but he did for Dmitri. Then again, he also benefited from the deal. The Lion was dead, and theoretically, that was meant to be the end of the Bratva in Luca's territory. I also know that my brother worked closely with Dmitri, so I've grown curious about what kind of person he is.
He walks down the stairs and looks at me from head to toe. “You look like him.”
“The devil?”
He chuckles. “No, your brother. We’re close.”
Sky scoffs. “You’re as close to him as any of us, which is barely. Besides, we all know I’m the favorite.”
Izak speaks up. “You all have to really swallow the fact that unless it’s his work or woman, Lorenzo doesn’t give a shit about any of us.”
“I don’t take kindly to being compared to my brother,” I warn as I offer my hand to Dmitri in greeting. “Besides, I’m the prettier one.”
His smile stretches, and he accepts my hand. “I can already see how you grate on his nerves in the same way I do. I think we’ll get along just fine.”
I lead him toward the room as Sky and Izak warily watch Dmitri. He’d once beaten Tony in this very fighting ring, which means he can fight. Not a little Bratva outcast prince, as his nickname suggests. But besides getting vengeance on his father, Dmitri mostly deals above board in high society amongst the very same circles my woman's mother surrounds herself with. In fact, Elanee Lane is good friends with her.
