“What meeting are we having then?”
“A business meeting.”
“Another one?” I raise a brow. “Should I be worried?”
He releases me. “I hope not.”
“Now?”
“There won’t be time later.”
“Emily went out for groceries. I’ll have to bring Noah.”
“Good. As it’ll be his future workspace, he can get accustomed to it.”
I prop a hand on my hip. “Dante.”
He raises his palms. “What?”
“He’s not even five. I want our son to be happy. I don’t want you to force him into something he may not want.”
He chuckles. “Noah will do what he wants to do. But I can guarantee you he’ll want to be a part of the business.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He shrugs. “I see a lot of myself in him.”
I can’t argue that. Every day, Noah behaves more like his father.
Dante eyes the dresses. “Are those for tonight?”
I sigh. “Penelope had them sent over.”
“Don’t you like them?”
“I like all of them. It’s difficult to choose one.”
And I’m a little worried. I know Dante’s guests are going to dissect my choice, no matter what I wear. Just like in my teenage years when my mother made me parade around in the latest fashion at social events, my dress, shoes, hair, and even my posture will be criticized. It’s only one of the reasons why I hate those gatherings. The main one is that I find them boring.
Dante goes straight for the only dress that has an open back and takes it off the rail. “This one.”
I gape at him. It’s a stunning dress of jade green silk with lace inlays of the same color. The fabric drapes softly at the back and ends in a short trail. The high neck at the front is square and elegant. There’s no doubt that it’s a gorgeous creation, but it will expose my back.
He holds the dress in front of me. “I’ll probably have to kill a few men for staring at you, but it’ll be worth it.”
I take the dress and return it to the rail. “The back is open.”
“So?”
“Dante,” I say in a hushed exclamation. “My scars will be on display.”
He cups my face in a fierce and urgent gesture, his gaze burning on me. “Then let them be. I don’t give a fuck, and neither should you. I’m proud of those scars, Tatiana. They remind me how brave and strong you are, the bravest and strongest person I know, so own them.”
As I stare at the conviction and passion that set his features into hard lines, my heart shatters in the best possible way. Without knowing, Dante has just glued together the broken parts of me, the parts I don’t even understand myself yet.
Cupping his cheek, I give him a smile that warms me inside. “I love you.”
He turns his face and kisses my palm. “I don’t deserve you.”
