Page 54 of Skating Towards Danger

I considered his words throughout the journey back, feeling uncertain about whether to believe him or not. My heart wants to, but my head is scrambled. I had information overload along with shock that I was shot at and the fact it wasn’t the first time, and don’t get me started with the fact I’m married, fricking married, which I’m certain the route he went down was not legal.

Five days alone, and I still feel like I can’t breathe.

Dante squeezes my thigh where he’s had his hand for a while, but I don’t look at him and keep my eyes out the window.

I get it. He didn’t want to lie to me, and until he got me to sign those papers and marry me without my knowledge, he couldn’t tell me without breaking some rules within their organization.

Okay, sue me. Over the past five days, I have done some googling and learned more than I bargained for.

I still feel like he used me, used my attraction to him to keep an eye on me, and I don’t know how to get over that feeling. Honestly, focusing on him and whether or not he really does love me is a lot easier than focusing on the fact my whole life was a lie.

Damn my heads a mess.

“I don’t know how much longer I can cope with the silent treatment, little fairy,” Dante says quietly, and I swallow hard.

Without looking at him, I reply, “I don’t know what to say.”

And I don’t, my head is too much of a mess.

“Ask me something, anything, and I’ll tell you the truth,” he promises, and I stay quiet for a moment, thinking. “Anything, Paige, big or small, I won’t lie to you,” he confirms, and I nod.

“Okay,” I say, “Rhett?” remembering what Uncle Rocco said about him taking over from him.

He mumbles, “Fuck,” then admits, “he’s a made man,” and I am not surprised. Dante continues, “So is Matt. Rocco and Dad made him work at the diner to keep an eye on you.”

Of course.

Sighing, I lean back against the headrest and ask questions to see exactly how much he knows about me instead because I just can’t with my life right now.

“Favorite color?” I start, and though I don’t look at him, I can hear the smile in his voice as he answers, “Dark purple,” seeing where I’m coming from.

“Favorite movie?” I continue, and he replies, “Pride and Prejudice. Your favorite food is cheeseburgers and fries, but it used to be spaghetti before your accident. You love to skate to Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift, you hate olives with a passion, and spiders freak you out.” I look at him, and we lock eyes for a moment before he looks back at the road.

He continues, “You don’t like it when people say ‘seriously’ all the time and you suck at anything sports that is not figure skating. You prefer your light purple leotard when you practice but will wear your green one if you’re in a sullen mood. You love white chocolate but can’t stand hazelnut. You hate raisins and apple pies, and I know you are definitely not a morning person, especially if I’ve kept you up all night.”

My heart flutters at his words, but he’s not finished, “You have nightmares, and the only way to help you sleep is if you are lying on top of my body while I run my fingers through your hair. You hate baths unless I’m in them with you, and I know that you hate alcohol and drugs with a passion after your mistakes in high school. How’d I do?”

I blink several times, trying to stop the tears that have formed from falling, and instead of answering his question, I ask, “How many people have you killed?”

He tenses, but he doesn’t shy away and admits, “Forty-eight but not including the men that were chasing us last week.” I nod, and he sighs, “Most of them were not very good people, little fairy.”

I nod again already realizing that, then ask, “Andrew?”

“Fuck, can I have a pass?” he asks as he looks my way quickly then back at the road, and I tut, making him groan before he admits, “I chopped his dick off and made him choke on it,” and I swing my head his way in shock, and he winces. “Little fairy, he was going to rape you, I mean, you did amazing fighting him off, but he wouldn’t have stopped,” he says, and I blink, my mouth hanging open a little.

Why don’t I feel bad? Shouldn’t I be feeling bad right about now?

Dante sighs, “Next question, baby.”

I swallow, “Your first kill.”

He licks his bottom lip as he looks in the rearview mirror, ensuring the guards he had are still behind, and he says, “I was eleven. She was a teacher who tried to kiss me, and when I pulled back, she just smiled and tried again. I knew it wasn’t right and decided to do some digging. She hoped to groom me because she’d figured out who my father was and knew Roman wouldn’t work. I went to the principal after I got evidence against her, and he called the police. They were going to pick her up from her home and arrest her. She had several photos of kids with parents who had money in an undressed state.”

I furrow my brows, and I question, “How come you ended up killing her then if you’d planned to have her arrested, which is quite good at that age, by the way.”

He looks at me briefly and smiles before he replies, “I confided in Roman, and he told my father, and as punishment, Dad decided my first kill would be her for not going to him myself.”

Damn…

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