Page 149 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

His words hit me like a bolt, sending a wave of heat straight to my core. Even after all this time, his sudden intensity can catch me off guard, leaving me breathless and aching.

“Jesus, Dante,” I manage to croak out. “Do you ever turn off?”

“I used to,” he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep. “But that was before you broke the switch.”

I can’t help but smile at that. My fingers, of their own volition, start to trace his more rugged features—the intricate tattoos on his chest, some cleverly placed to hide his scars. I run my fingers down the wicked-looking veins that snake along his bulging biceps and forearm. Then I’m feeling the hard calluses on his palms and knuckles.

“You are so beautiful.” I murmur.

Dante’s grin widens as he pulls me closer. He drags up the hem of his t-shirt, my preferred sleep and lounge wear, then cups my lower belly with his large hand, his fingertips playing with the short curls on my mons.

“I think you might be biased,” he teases, tugging lightly on the hair. “I did just buy your dream house yesterday, after all.”

My heart skips a beat, and I gasp, both from his touch and the reminder of yesterday’s surprise. “My God, Dante. I still can’t believe you did that!”

Since Nico offered me the job I’ve been frantically searching for places large enough to comfortably house dozens of people, a pit stop for struggling women until they can get their lives back on track.

“For two weeks, Dante, I kept showing you all those listings, and you didn’t spare them a glance.”

“I glanced,” he says, nibbling a path across my jaw.

“Yeah, for all of a millisecond, and all you had to say was ‘Huh’,” I mimic his baritone. “Then it was always back to Tommy Martelli’s family business. I didn’t even think you heard any of what I was saying.”

His fingers continue their maddening caress. “I’m always paying attention, Addy. Even when it doesn’t seem like it.”

Despite the heat building inside me, I can’t help but shake my head in wonder. “That’s the thing, though. Your mind . . . it blows me away.”

Dante laughs outright at this. “My mind? Are you sure about that?”

“Not the dark, twisty, and torture-y parts, thank you very much. I mean the way your brain works. How you can juggle so many problems at once and hyperfocus on tasks. It’s . . . fascinating. Can be annoying sometimes, but mostly, it’s . . . intriguing.”

His expression softens, a rare vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “You’re talking about my ADHD?”

I nod. “It’s not a disorder. Not for you, Dante.”

He’s quiet for a moment, considering. “Growing up, it was hard to cope with a mind that worked a little differently. I was generally a nightmare.”

I link my fingers with his. “Yet you’ve managed to turn what others might see as a weakness into your greatest strength. At the risk of sounding like a complete simp, I think you’re pretty awesome.”

Dante pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I fucking love you, too.”

We lay in comfortable silence for a while, but my mind wanders, as it has for the past couple of weeks. Mezhen and the rest have such gory stories to tell and I just wish I could help them heal.

As the weight of their experiences presses on me, an icy chill runs through me despite Dante’s warmth. I can’t help but think what would have happened had Dante not shown up exactly when he did that night.

I might have killed Sean Hall, but the consequences of that would have been unspeakable. Without doubt I would have been way worse off than these women.

This realization only strengthens my resolve to help these women who didn’t have someone to save them. To see that they reclaim their lives and their power back. Maybe, in a way, I’m also reclaiming a part of myself that was almost lost.

“Sophie’s going to have the babies soon,” I murmur, trying to distract myself from darker thoughts.

“Mmm,” Dante agrees, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Any day now.”

“I’ve been thinking about Mezhen and the others.”

Dante shifts, propping himself up on one elbow. His eyes, now fully alert, study my face intently. “You’re always thinking about them.”

“I know, cara.”

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