Page 58 of Dante
It was easier this way, because if she heard him say he no longer wanted to see her, it would break her heart. But what would hurt even worse was if he did ask to see her again. Then she wouldn’t have the strength to do this.
Nadia couldn’t see anything in his hardened face, only the slight flex to his jaw.
“May I ask why?”
“I hate casinos.”
“You hate casinos?” he asked, confused more than ever.
“Exactly.” She nodded firmly.
“Then don’t play in my casino. I don’t care.” Dante seemed to have an easy fix, but when Nadia shook her head, telling him it wasn’t that easy, he continued, “I’m sorry, but I’m not understanding why that means you plan to never see me again once you hit that door?”
“We’re two different people—” It was him this time who was going to interrupt her, but she wasn’t done. Softly, she spoke the words containing the hard truth, “And you’re in love with someone else.”
Dante sat back in his chair, knowing exactly who she meant. “I will always love my wife. It’s not like she walked out on me, Nadia. She died … because of me.”
“I know you will, and I wouldn’t want that to ever change,” Nadia said, taking a breath. “But you’re not willing to share that love with anyone else, and as amazing as that night was with you, I know that’s all you could ever give me, and it would never be enough.”
She had to look past him now, the words too much for herself to bear saying, and Nadia couldn’t witness the pain beginning on his face from talking about his wife. “You can blame yourself for her death all you want, Dante, but she knew the consequences of being with you … just like I do, which is why … I can’t. I don’t choose a life where I will wonder if my next step will be my last, or if you don’t pick up the phone, it might mean you’re dead.” She spoke the name of the ghost that haunted his ice-blue eyes. “Melissa did … I don’t.”
Dante stared at her for several moments, having to take in what she said, and when he finally went to open his mouth, there was a knock on the office door before it flung open.
One of his men, holding a folder, paused upon seeing her. “Oh, sorry, I—”
“That’s okay. I was just leaving,” Nadia said, wiping away the tear that had fallen before she turned for the door.
Standing from his chair, Dante waved his man on. “Sal, can you give us a minute?”
“No, please stay,” Nadia urged him, and the man didn’t know what to do, but she kept him in place when she went to the door herself. “Tell your men I can make it home myself, and that I won’t be needing their services.” Turning, she gave one last look at the man who had stolen her heart and would never be able to give his in return. “Goodbye, Mr. Caruso.”
Dante fell back down in his chair, watching where she had just disappeared without giving him a single chance.
“Sir …”
“Sal, give me a fucking minute!” Dante yelled at his soldier, who quietly left, closing him in alone with nothing but his thoughts and a memory he had hidden deeply …
“Where is your mom?” Dante asked a young Maria as she came running in with her pink floppy dress from the direction of the kitchen.
Melissa had said she was going to take a nap while Leo was having his, so he had gone to his study to take care of a few business matters that were important, or he would have taken one with her.
Dante gave a silent curse at the missed opportunity. His wife and he hadn’t been able to have one since Leo’s birth.
Maria brushed her golden locks out of her face. “Have you checked her garden?”
“Tell Lucca to start dinner. I don’t want your mother extending herself any more than she needs to.” His son wasonly a young teenager, but his mother had already taught him well enough that he didn’t need supervision to cook anymore.
Walking outside, the crisp air, along with the beautiful scents of her blooming flowers, caressed him. He always loved the smell back here. It was exactly how she smelled.
Glancing around, he was almost ready to go back inside when he caught sight of his wife on a ladder at the side of the gazebo, fiddling with a hanging planter well above on her head. Dante started running when her fingers brushed against the heavy glass planter and it wobbled.
As he snatched Melissa off the ladder, the planter fell down, crashing to the ground.
“What in the hell are you doing?”
“Shh … One of the children will hear you.”
“Don’t shush me. They’ve heard much worse from me.”
