“Do you think that’s a good idea?” he asked me without looking up.
“I just want to talk to him.”
“Is Lucas alright with that?”
“It’s not up to him who I can and can’t speak to,” I told him, sharper than I had intended.
Dom snorted in response and I was irritated that he wouldn’t take me seriously.
“If you won’t take me, I’ll find a way to get there myself.” That was a small lie. I had no clue where Dante lived and no means of getting there, but I hoped he’d buy my bluff.
“Do you want me to be killed?” Dom asked, finally looking up at me.
“No,” I said, knowing it was a moderate possibility. “That’s why I asked you first.”
He mumbled something in Portuguese that I couldn’t comprehend, so I shot him a smile and said, “I take that as a yes.”
Later that afternoon, Dom dropped me off at Dante’s house armed with a large basket of sweet goods that Lydia had helped me to bake. I knocked on the door, and when Dante answered he looked surprised to see me.
“Mia? What are you doing here?”
“I come bearing gifts,” I told him and held out the basket of treats. He grinned before taking it from me with his good arm and inviting me into his home. It wasn’t as sleek as Luc’s, and had a warmer feel, which rang true to D’s personality.
“Does Luc know you’re here?” Dante asked. He looked a little nervous as he placed the basket on the coffee table and took a seat.
“I don’t care.”
“Mia,” Dante groaned, closing his eyes.
"I know that he broke your arm because of me."
Dante raised an eyebrow. "Wow, straight to the point. You really are more alike than you’d both care to admit." He sat a little straighter in his chair and let out a sigh.
“I’m so sorry. I told him he shouldn’t have done it,” I said. “I told him not to touch you again.”
“Well, that would explain why he’s not picking up any of my calls at the moment.”
“Why are you even trying to get in touch with him?” I asked, surprised that he wanted to keep in contact with Luc.
Dante nodded towards the couch before opening the cellophane on the basket so he could dip into it. I took a seat while he pulled out a cookie and took a bite before leaning back.
“Has anyone ever told you that you see the world too black and white?” Dante asked me, waving the cookie, crumbs scattering everywhere.
“Maybe.”
He let out a small laugh. “This is nothing, Mia. It’ll heal. These are amazing by the way.” Dante held up the cookie and waved it again before he took another bite.
“You’re meant to be friends,” I said, not quite believing how blasé he was about the whole affair. “What kind of friend does something like that?”
“Are you an only child?” Dante asked, and I nodded, not sure where he was going with this tangent. He smiled and continued, “Same, until I met Luc.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was pretty much raised with Luc by Charlie and Lydia.”
“Who’s Charlie?” I asked, not sure if I’d heard mention of the name before.
“Luc’s Dad.” Dante cleared up the confusion. “He passed away four years ago now. That’s when Luc stepped up and took on the business.”
