Filed to story: Bound by Honor (Aria & Luca) Drama Story
Dante was getting heavy. I turned my head, hoping to breathe easier that way. I could ask him to get off me, but I knew the moment I did, he’d pull away again as he always did. I wanted to relish in our closeness for a little longer, even if it meant being crushed by his weight. He felt hot and strong, and pressed up like that it was hard to say where his body began and mine ended.
Dante raised his head and our lips met for another kiss, languid and unhurried, almost sweet, but then he rolled off of me. I turned around so I was facing him. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. It was too dark to make out his expression. I cautiously moved closer and rested my head on his chest. He tensed and I braced myself for his rejection. My own body stiffened in anticipation of the rebuke, but it never came. He relaxed, wrapped an arm around my shoulder and I finally dared to snuggle closer against him. I drew in a deep breath relishing in his warm scent that was becoming increasingly familiar; it was mixed with the musky aroma of sex. My hand came up to his stomach and I stroked him lightly. Was it the dark that made him more approachable? That made him forget who he was, who he wanted to be?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I wasn’t sure what woke me but when I opened my eyes, the sun hadn’t risen yet. The sky was already lightning in the distance and provided enough light to make out my surroundings but that was it. Dante was pressed up against my back, his face half buried in my shoulder, his breath warm against my skin. It was uncomfortably warm but I didn’t move away. This was the first time I woke with Dante still in bed and he was actually holding me in his arms. Maybe his subconscious had accepted what he couldn’t; that he wanted to be close to me.
I kept my breathing even, tried to appear asleep, so I wouldn’t wake him. I must have dozed off again because I startled awake when Dante shifted away from me. I listened carefully, but he wasn’t getting out of bed. He’d rolled away from me in sleep if his rhythmic breathing was any indication. I slowly turned on my other side, so I could see him. He lay on his back, an arm thrown up over his face. The sheets were pushed down to the delicious V of his hips. I propped myself up on one arm, careful not to make any sound. My fingers itched to stroke his blond hair back, to tickle the ridges of his taut stomach, to follow the trail of fine hair down to his erection.
I reached out hesitantly and lightly brushed my fingers over his hair. Dante’s hand shot out lightning fast, gripping my wrist in a crushing grip. At the same time he sat up and his eyes met mine. I pressed my lips together. He released my wrist in a jerk. I rubbed it, lowering my eyes to the bruises already forming. Dante touched my naked waist, his hand warm and light on my skin. “Did I hurt you?” There was real concern in his voice.
I peered up, surprised. “It’s okay. I startled you.”
He grasped my hand and inspected the marks his tight grip had left on my wrist. His thumb brushed over my skin in a feather-light touch. “I’m not used to waking up beside someone anymore.”
It was the most personal thing he’d ever shared with me. I had to stop myself from digging deeper, from wanting more. “I know. It’s okay. You’ll get used to it.”
He lifted his gaze, but his fingers kept up their light stroking on my wrist. “Did you and Antonio share a bed?”
“In the beginning, yes. It was for appearance’s sake mostly. We still had a maid then and we didn’t want her to get suspicious. At first it was like having a sleepover with a friend, but eventually it got awkward, especially when he came home smelling like his lover, so he fired the maid and we started sleeping in separate rooms.”
His eyes lingered on my exposed breasts. “I can’t imagine a man looking at you and not wanting to have you for himself.”
I flushed with happiness, but I decided to keep the mood light, worried a more emotional response would make Dante retreat again. “I think Antonio would have said the same about you. I think you might have been his type.”
Dante laughed and his entire face transformed. “That’s not something I want to think about.”
I smiled. “I imagine you don’t.” I paused, curious. “What would you do if one of your men came to you and admitted that he was gay?”
“I would tell him to keep his disposition a secret and to fight it.”
“It’s not like people choose to be gay. They are gay or they aren’t. You’d force your men to live a lie.”
“They can live a lie, or they will have to live with the consequences.”
“You would kill someone for who they love.”
“Society may have come a long way but the mafia is built on traditions, Valentina. The moment I declared I’d accept Made Men to be gay, all hell would break loose in the Outfit. That would be one change I wouldn’t be able to push through. I wouldn’t kill someone for confiding in me, as long as they kept it a secret. I don’t doubt that there are soldiers in the Outfit who are attracted to men but who’ve learned to restrain themselves. They are probably married and live a lie, but as long as they do, they are safe.”
We were still sitting close together, actually talking in bright daylight. I reached for Dante’s chest, lightly brushing my fingertips over a long scar there. Dante gripped my wrist, gently this time and pulled my hand away. He slid his legs out of bed and stood. I watched as he headed for the bathroom, completely naked, and yet covered by hundreds of invisible layers I could never penetrate.
I dropped my hand in my lap. With a sigh, I got out of bed as well. There was no sense in lying back down alone. I had a busy day. My first day in the casino without Dante. I was anxious and excited at the same time. After a quick shower, I took a ridiculous long time trying on different outfits. I didn’t want to look too sexy, but I also didn’t want to hide my femininity. I knew those men, especially Raffaele, didn’t like that a woman was now working with them, and worse: their boss, and I had no intention of making this easier for them. They had to learn to deal with strong women, and if they couldn’t, that was their problem. I chose a knee-length dark-blue pencil skirt, matching slingback heels and a white blouse with a round neck and long puff sleeves. After I’d tugged the hem of the blouse into my waistband, I put my hair up in a bun, letting a few wayward strands hang down.
When I entered the dining room, it was deserted. I stopped in the doorway, letting my eyes rest on Dante’s usual place. His newspaper was folded beside his empty plate. With a sigh, I headed for my own chair. The door opened and Gaby walked in, carrying a carafe with fresh orange juice and a coffee pot. She smiled brightly at me. “Good morning, Mis…Valentina.” She gave an apologetic look but I only smiled, happy to see a friendly face in the morning. “I hope you slept well?”
My cheeks warmed unwantedly. “Yes, thank you.”
She poured me coffee and orange juice. “Would you like some eggs or pancakes?”
“No, I’ll only have a croissant and some fruit.” I gestured at the array of pastries and fruit in front of me.
Gaby turned to leave. “Wait,” I blurted, then flushed at how desperate I’d sounded. Gaby faced me with wide eyes, as if she worried she’d done something to offend me and would be punished. “Why don’t you keep me company?”
Gaby froze.
“Only if you want to. I’d like to get to know you better.”
A shy grin spread on her face, but she didn’t sit down.
“You don’t have to stand. Sit.” I pulled out the chair beside mine. Gaby put down the carafe and the coffee pot before she lowered herself gingerly in the chair.
“Have you had breakfast yet?”
Gaby hesitated, then shook her head.
“Then have a Danish. There’s more than enough food for the two of us.” I grabbed the basket and pushed it over to her. She took a chocolate croissant with a mumbled thanks, her cheeks turning red.
I grabbed one for myself, took a bite, then followed it with a hot gulp of coffee. I wanted to give Gaby some time to get past her nervousness. “Where do you live? I’ve been wondering about this since you told me your story.”
“Oh, I live with Zita and her husband. They took me in shortly after I started working for Mr. Cavallaro.”
“Are they treating you well?” Whenever I saw Zita, she was glowering or frowning. She didn’t seem like someone who should take care of a girl like Gaby, who’d gone through hell as a teen.