I cocked my head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Alright, I know you’re stressed about this but so am I. Do not start giving me shit, Dante Atwood. We’re both having to bite the bullet here.”
He looked taken aback by my sharpness. “Yes, Momma,” Dante muttered, giving me a mock salute. “Remember that fire when we’re up in front of Luc. To answer your question, I think tonight’s the best option. We’ll head over to the house after dinner. Hopefully he’ll be there and it’ll give us more privacy than waltzing into work.”
I had spent my spare moments thinking about what would happen when I saw Luc again. I tried to plan out what I would say, but there were too many variables and I couldn’t settle on anything. There was no big speech prepared. I’d have to live in the moment and see what tumbled out of my mouth when I saw him.
“After dinner,” I repeated with a nod. Not that it mattered. There was no way I was going to be able to stomach any food.
Dante reached out across the sofa and grabbed my hand. “I’ll be there, Mia. I won’t let a thing happen to you or thatbambino.”
It was a small comfort, but I found myself believing him. Dante hadn’t needed to find me or bring me back on his own. He didn’t have to keep me under his roof or put his relationship on the line. He didn’t have to make a promise on his vow—everything he stood for as a made man—but he’d done all those things. “I trust you,” I said, squeezing his hand.
A thumping knock on the door caused us to both jump, Dante hissing as my nails caught the skin on the back of his hand. My apologies were drowned out as Cerb came running into the room, nails scraping on the wooden flooring before he skidded to a halt and started barking.
“Dante?!”
“Fuck.” Dante stood up and looked around.
“No, no. I can’t see him yet. I have no idea what to say. This wasn’t part of the plan,” I told him, stumbling over my words and waving my arms wildly.
“You’re going to have to see him at some point, Mia.”
“Not like this. Please.” The shaking started at the center of my chest. This was happening too quickly. I wanted some control but, as per usual, life had other plans. “I can’t, Dante. I can’t.”
“Shhh,” he hushed me, and I could feel my eyes sting with tears. “Okay, go to the kitchen. I’ll talk to him first and bring him through. We’re doing this now.” There was no questioning this. Dante wasn’t prepared to hide me from Luc any longer.
“Dante?” Luc’s voice sounded through the door.
“Go,” Dante commanded as he made his way through the door. “And take him with you.”
“Cerb!” I hissed, blinking away the tears. “Come on, boy. Come on.” My dopey dog ceased barking and looked at me before following me to the back of the house and into Dante’s kitchen.
This was it. No more hiding. I was about to face everything head on.
Chapter Eleven
Lucas
Loyalty was something that we expected in our lives from the ones we chose to keep close, but lately it felt as though people had forgotten that cardinal trait. I never thought I’d have an issue when it came to Dante, my brother in everything but blood; however, we had struggled to maintain our bond. It had started with his incessant need to bring her into the conversation, until I had fired a warning shot, and then had morphed into unnecessary comments concerning the way I ran the business and my life.
So, what if I had been a little trigger happy lately? So, what if I had taken on Xavier’s advice? Losing her had opened up old wounds and reminded me of just how empty my life was. I wished my father was around to turn to, to guide me through the severity of the heartbreak I felt. Without him, my Godfather had become a seasoned voice who helped to steer me at a time I felt lost. Once I had gotten rid of her, my head would be clear; I’d have perspective again and things would settle back into place.
Fuck Dante and his assumptions. He had no idea what I was going through—not now he had patched things up with Vittoria—and rather than support me, he chose to make life more difficult by not doing the minimum I required from him; turning up to work. A rapid assessment of him when he opened the door confirmed that he was fine, and I felt a vein in my temple pulse with irritation.
“Hey,” he greeted me, looking a little flustered.
“Why are you wasting my time?” I asked, not in the mood to pretend like this was a casual visit.
“I’m not wasting your time.”
“Then why haven’t you been at work?”
“I’ve been sick.”
Every one of his responses were prepared and quick and flew out of his mouth before I’d even finished my questions. I gritted my teeth before replying, “Bullshit. You rarely get sick.” During our fifteen years of friendship, Dante had displayed two unusual talents. First was an uncanny ability to get into trouble and the second was an immune system that should have seen him quarantined in some research lab. A pure freak of nature as far as health was concerned.
“I’ve been a little busy,” he said, changing his alibi with a shrug of his shoulders that only served to irk me further. At this rate, I hoped Dante never got questioned about the business, because we’d be in it up to our necks with the way he couldn’t stick to a story.
My patience had worn thin. I took a step forward and Dante mirrored my action in the opposite direction. “If you don’t sort your act out then I’m going to be looking for a new second.”
