“He hurt me badly, Dante.” I whisper so softly, I barely hear the words pass my lips.
But he doesn’t miss any of it. “How, baby?”
I lean my forehead against his temple, my lips against his ear. “My virginity was a stipulation for the sale, so he couldn’t do anything to make me bleed from there.”
“But he still took your innocence by force, didn’t he? Leaving you untouched and pure.”
It feels like my muscles will snap if I move an inch; they’re locked up so tight, pain radiates down my arms and legs. Dante breathes slowly into my ear, and I can feel his heart beating in time with mine while he waits. Eventually, I manage a small nod, but it’s like taking the plug out of the bath. In the haven of protection he provides, my hushed confession pours out.
“He raped me anally. There was so much fucking blood.” I squeeze my eyes shut, slamming the door on those brutal memories, purposely changing directions in what I share because I fucking have to. The pain still guts and terrifies me. “My brother was freaking out afterward, acting like he couldn’t believe he had done it, so I climbed off the floor and smashed a vase over his head.” I pull myself out of Dante’s orbit, sitting up straighter, more determined to say out loud what happened. “I stole the keys to his Stingray and took all the cash and cards from his wallet. I ended up hours away, no clue where I was, but after I emptied his bank account, there was a Greyhound bus terminal across the road. I got a ticket, then I already told you what I did next.”
Dante doesn’t leave. He squats in front of me, still filling my space with his huge presence but giving me room too. “It’s lucky you can’t remember the stranger's name, Layne, or I wouldtrack him down and peel the skin from his body for taking your virginity like that.”
Matteo closes in, and he covers the back of my neck with his hand. His touch seeps through my bones, and his presence wraps around me like a blanket. I push the palms of my hands into my eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. I’m rocked again by how much Matteo feels like home.
Once I’m back in control of my emotions, I answer Dante. “I asked him to do it. Begged him to.”
“It does not matter in the least to me if he agreed or not. He never should have taken something so special like that.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but he jumped at the chance, instead of jumping into action to help you.”
“He did help me, Dante. It might have not been a great way to do it, but not being a virgin was more important.”
“It just fucking infuriates me that you had to go through that alone!” The words are unnecessary, because I can read it in his eyes and pick up his distress in his scent.
I lean down, showing him I’m okay. And, honestly, I am. “I’m not who I was back then anymore. I probably need to talk with someone in a professional capacity, but in the same vein, I’ve dealt with a lot and found out I am a very different person from the one who had to run away. I know now what I can handle and what I will not. I know what I like, and I swear if you treat me differently because I told you, I will leave you.”
Dante’s eyes squint in challenge as we careen from the past back to now. Back to who we are. “Why would I treat you any differently? You are the exact same woman I married.”
“I don’t want you thinking I’m fragile.” I glare back at him.
But there is more lightness in how we act, despite the harsh reality of him and the others knowing my truth. There’s no way the others missed what I said.
Valentine proves the point by shuffling on his feet, drawing my focus from his brother to him. And he wears the same intense look in his eyes; it’s just hidden by his dazzling sense of ego. He reaches for my hand, and without even thinking, I place my hand in his. “No one here thinks you are fragile; no one has thought that since the moment we met. I am attracted to the power that radiates in your eyes—it’s fucking addictive. Your ghosts have no reach in our life, Layne, but the reason they exist will be dealt with, make no mistake about that.” He moves his brother out of the way, swooping down low to kiss only the edge of my mouth. “Thank you for trusting us.”
And he puts an end to my fretting. He deals with my swirling worries by addressing them head-on but also leaving what I said alone. We don’t rehash or argue over any of it. They treat me like I asked—no different—but they also keep treating me like I’m theirs, and this thing of ours is only just beginning.
We eat dinner together around the island, talking about nothing at all, but each laugh, each look, each touch we share feels like we’ve turned a corner. Once we clean up, Matteo leads me outside and points out landmarks on the horizon before we all find a place on the outdoor sofa. Of course, it’s huge but so damn comfortable, I start planning to sleep out here one night.
Dante pulls me over onto his lap, blitzing my mind with his wicked, smoky kisses, all the while sharing a lungful of his joint until I’m curled up like a kitten between him and Valentine on the sofa.
Despite how hard I fight to keep my eyes open, their hushed conversations and deep chuckles are like being rocked to sleep.
29
Valentine
My phone rings in the dead of night. If it wasn’t Ronin, I wouldn’t accept the call, but we’re both working hard at building trust and alliances. Plus, he’s a moody, stubborn prick when I ignore him. It takes him forever to get over anything.
“Give me a sec.” I know he hears me when I get a grunt as a reply.
Leaving the call open, I dress quickly, throwing on some sweats and a long-sleeve Henley. Knowing we won’t be Face Timing, I don’t stop to check my hair or anything else before picking my phone back up.
“Is this a social chat?” I ask once I’m crossing the hallway and heading toward my office.
His distinctive Irish accent even affects how his laugh sounds. “You might be looking for a reason to bring forward a few of your plans. Watch the news.”
