Page 811 of One More Kiss

Avery

Surreal wasn’tthe right word.

Madness, maybe?

Definitely madness.

Was it still temporary insanity if I was still acting completely off my rocker hours later?

That was the only excuse I could think of for why I was calmly strolling into a wedding reception filled with strangers on the arm of the man who had kidnapped me. Despite his threats, I should scream for help till my lungs burned. The hotel was filled with over a hundred people, all within view. What was he going to do? Kill me in front of all of them? Fight them all off?

I glanced at Dante’s profile from under my eyelashes.

If any man could, it would be him.

I still couldn’t wrap my mind around what had happened in the car earlier. How could I have let him touch and kiss me that way? Worse, how could I have enjoyed it? Even now, when I should scream bloody murder, I was instead getting a dark thrill from being on his arm. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was attracted to dangerous men. Let’s face it, he sure beat the hell out of Kenny, my last boyfriend. Although to be fair, it would be hard for the manager of an office supply store to compete with a criminal underworld boss.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t remind me of Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. He was all dark, brooding intensity. What girl wouldn’t want to hold on to that for just a moment? Kissing and being held by him was like touching lightning. And just like lightning, I was probably going to get burned.

The wedding reception was in full swing by the time we arrived. Probably easier to blend in that way if the guests were already a few drinks in and dancing. The Drake’s ballroom looked like a glass of champagne, all golden with sparkling lights. It was one long rectangle with massive columns and beautiful crystal chandeliers, a dance floor in the center of it all. It was hard not to feel like a princess as Dante took me in his arms and started slow dancing with me. The DJ was playing Take My Breath Away by Berlin, and the melody and lyrics called to me. It was how I felt the moment his hand pressed against my lower back and he pulled me close. It was easy to fool myself into thinking this actually was a date.

Dante leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Take a look around at all the guests. Do you see him?”

Unforgiving reality crashed over my body like a bucket of ice water. This wasn’t a date, and Dante was far from Prince Charming. I was here to identify Mr. Mourelli and then pray Dante would let me go, unharmed. Tonight I was fighting for my survival, not some foolish love fantasy.

I swiveled my head right, then left, skimming my gaze over each unfamiliar face.

Dante chuckled. “Try not to be too obvious, cara mia.”

I tilted my head back. “You keep calling me that. What does it mean?”

The corners of his firm lips tilted up. He caressed me with his gaze. “It means my beloved in Italian.”

There was a warm fluttering in my stomach. Stop it. He was only trying to charm me into helping him instead of crying out for the police. I lowered my gaze. At a loss for words, I murmured, “Oh,” and dropped the subject.

As he twirled me around the dance floor, I tried to focus on the faces as they rushed past. At first it was a sea of sequins, laughter, and tuxedo bow ties, but then it happened. My body stiffened, and I stumbled.

Dante’s muscular arms tightened around me. His eyes narrowed knowingly. “You saw him. Where? Point him out to me.”

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. I wasn’t willing to risk my life for Mr. Russo or any of his associates, but I also didn’t want someone’s blood on my hands. If I pointed out Mr. Mourelli, it could mean his certain death. Was I willing to live with that? I placed a hand on Dante’s chest, over his heartbeat. It was strangely reassuring to feel the steady pounding of his heart. “You’re not going to kill him, are you?”

His hand on my waist tightened. “Don’t ask questions like that of me, Avery.” He leaned down and spoke so closely, his warm breath kissed my lips. “Ever.”

He was hinting at killing a man, and all I could think about was if he was going to kiss me again.

What the hell is wrong with me?

My shoulders slumped as I lowered my gaze. I didn’t know what to do.

Dante placed his hand around the base of my skull and pulled me closer, tilting my head so he could give me a gentle kiss on the forehead before speaking soft and low for my ears only. “Please, baby. You need to understand, we are all dangerous men playing a zero-sum dangerous game. We chose our path. You pointing the bastard out to me does not make you responsible for his actions. Actions that brought him to this moment. Mourelli made his choice, now he must face the consequences.”

I licked my lips. I then nodded my head toward the bar. “He’s there. The man with the thick, black-rimmed glasses and bald patch.”

Dante turned his head in that direction. “The one standing to the left of the bartender?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

Without missing a step, Dante swung me around the dance floor till we skirted along the edge. A man dressed as one of the waitstaff, holding a tray of champagne flutes, stepped close.

---