At this point, she was hanging on to reason by her fingernails. It didn’t make sense to do this. She was likely walking right into a trap and being kidnapped a second time. But every time reason and logic tried to take hold, she thought about the look in Dante’s eyes as he’d said, We’ll get through it. There will be peace. It hadn’t been soft—she wasn’t sure if that man was capable of being soft—but it truly had felt like he meant it, like he was comforting her in his own way.
Maybe she was a fool to crave comfort from this man. Anyone else in her life would call her such, and she couldn’t really argue with them. Nothing about this was logical.
She wasn’t familiar with the hotel Vasily parked near, but that didn’t mean anything. There were thousands of hotels in the city, and usually when they had visitors they didn’t want in the house, they picked between two nearby.
Vasily turned to look at her. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell them to stay here, but that was too reckless even for her. “Let’s go.”
The pair crossed the street and walked into the hotel lobby. It was luxurious in that generic way so many hotels had. She watched Vasily clock the area and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they could tell her where all the emergency exits were off that single sweep.
Nerves kicked in as she and Vasily stepped into the elevator and took it up. Was she really doing this? Really considering risking it all for this man? Tonight would be the turning point, one way or another. The only way to find out where she landed was to talk to Dante. Really talk to him.
Rose took a deep breath and opened the door to his room.
Chapter 21
For all his confidence in the moment, Dante honestly hadn’t been 100 percent sure Rose would show up. Nothing about that woman was a sure thing, and if he could appreciate that fact, it still made for a frustrating back-and-forth at times. He was in the middle of pacing the living room of the suite for the twentieth time when the door opened, and Rose walked in.
She’d changed out of the gold dress and now wore a pair of jeans and a sweater. It was the way she used to dress when they were pretending to be other people. Even knowing how he felt about her, he wasn’t prepared for the sheer longing that went through him. He wanted that casual intimacy with her again, the soft times to go with the hard edges he craved. He had appreciated that about his time with her as Jackson Smith. He wanted it again.
His gaze landed on the faded bruises around her throat. “I’ll kill the Mad Wolf for touching you.”
Rose closed the door and leaned against it. “You’re going to have to get in line, because the next time I see him, I’m shooting him.”
“Amata, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re not nearly as good a shot as you like to think.”
She smiled slightly. “Haven’t you figured it out, d’yavol? I pulled my shot.”
He’d wondered, but there were too many factors in place to determine shit. He grinned. “Lucky me. Less lucky Casimir Romanov.”
“Da.” She pushed off the door. “Vasily is in the hallway. If something happens to them because of you, I’ll skin you alive.”
Jealousy flared, even as he relished her threat. It likely said something fucked up about him that he liked it when violent words came out of that pretty mouth, but it was also the least fucked up thing about Dante. When one had as much blood on their hands as he did, violence stopped being something to flinch away from. It simply was. “Have you ever done it, amata?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Done what?”
“Any of the things you threaten me with. The more creative killings.”
Rose held his gaze for a moment and then looked away. “There’s a price for power. You know that, even if you’re not the heir to the Verducci family.” She pushed off the door and started for him. “I’ve never actually skinned someone, though.”
“I’ll be your first. I truly am a lucky man.”
Her lips pulled up but fell before he could fully appreciate her smile. “This will never work.”
He expected this. He’d even prepared for it. “And yet here you are. You came even with all the reasonable shit in your head telling you it’s a bad idea. Why?”
“You know why.”
He hoped. Fuck, Dante wasn’t one for hope, but he hoped when it came to Rose. He didn’t move other than to rotate slowly as she meandered around the room, nerves in every line of her body. “Tell me anyway.”
Rose stopped with her back to him. A fine tremor worked through her shoulders, and it took everything Dante had not to go to her there and now. He couldn’t. They needed to have a fucking conversation and the only way that would happen was if they stayed on the other side of the room from each other. If he touched her, they’d be ripping each other’s clothes off in short order. It didn’t sound so bad from where he stood, but Dante had the long game in mind. The more time passed before they settled into something official, the harder it would be to convince her he wanted more than her body.