With a cigar in my mouth, I made the call I’d been dreading.
I wasn’t afraid. I just loathed every moment I spent talking to this man.
Father answered. “Is it done?” He’d told me what would happen if I failed. A second bullet wound would be in my shoulder, next to where he shot me the first time. Sometimes I felt like a servant rather than a son.
“Yes.”
A congratulation never came. Not even a thank-you. I fulfilled his expectations; I deserved no reward. In his eyes, everything he asked for was so basic, only an idiot wouldn’t be able to do it. “Then marry the bitch so we can start preparing.”
“It’ll have to be a public wedding with guests if we want people to take it seriously.”
“How is that my problem?”
“You’ll have to be there.” It was ridiculous I had to ask my father to come to my wedding—even if it was fake.
He practically growled on the phone. “Fine. How long does the bastard have to live?”
“Weeks.”
“Then we need to hurry this up before he croaks. I need to know exactly where Ramon will be—so I can choke him with my bare hands.”
7
Arwen
I lay in bed with Dante beside me.
Sex used to be good, used to be hot and sweaty. But now that everything had changed, the fire that used to burn our skin had gone out. I was stressed about the future, so my libido had faded. Dante must have felt the same way, because his desire wasn’t as potent.
With my face on his chest, I lay beside him, thinking about how much my life would change. I tried to convince myself it wouldn’t be that different. I would live with Maverick, but I wouldn’t be in a relationship with him. I could still work, still sleep with Dante. It was just a change of scenery.
That’s all.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
I watched Dante stare at the wall, his thoughts a million miles away. He was naked in this bed with me, but his thoughts weren’t on sex. They weren’t even on me. “What are you thinking about?” I propped my head on my hand and ran my fingers down his frame.
He didn’t shift his gaze to me. “I don’t see how this is going to work.”
“What?”
“Us.”
My heart stopped beating. “Why wouldn’t it?”
“You know why.” Bitterness was heavy in his tone.
“Nothing will change. It’s just a display.”
“Maverick DeVille is still a powerful guy. I don’t want to cross him.”
“He said I could sleep with whoever I want—and he could do the same. It’s just a show, Dante.”
“Still…you’re another man’s wife.”
“Maybe…but I don’t belong to him.” I continued to run my fingers down his chest, feeling the grooves of his abs. “Nothing has to change, so I don’t know why you have a problem with it. Our relationship can be the same as it was before.”
He finally turned his gaze to me. “But I can never marry you.”
My fingers stopped moving when I finally understood. He didn’t have a problem with my marriage. He didn’t have a problem with Maverick. But he had a problem not making me his.
“It’ll always be a secret. It’ll be an affair. We’ll have to keep our relationship private, which means no public dinners, no family gatherings…just sex. That’s fine for the meantime, but it won’t last forever.”
I hadn’t thought that far down the road. I just assumed I could have everything I wanted—on the side. But now I realized how unfair it would be to the other person. They would always be second best. The gravity of what I was giving up really hit me. I would never truly fall in love because a man would never love a married woman.
It hit me hard.
A knock sounded on the door.
My eyes turned to the open bedroom door through which I could see the entryway. It was almost nine in the evening, far too late for a random visitor. I slipped out of the sheets and pulled on my robe.
Before I could even leave the bedroom, Maverick walked inside my apartment.
“Do you mind?” I stepped out of the bedroom and shut the door behind me, hiding Dante’s naked body from view.
Maverick’s eyes glanced at the door, catching a glimpse of my lover before he turned back to me. With no apology, he pulled an envelope from his back pocket and tossed it on the kitchen table. In a t-shirt and jeans, he once again looked fit, having the kind of body that seemed bulletproof. “No. You can finish when I’m done.”
Was this how our lives would be? He would barge into my room whenever he felt like it? “Knock. I’m warning you.”
“Or what?” He challenged me, not the least bit afraid of my ferocity.
“This.” I slapped my palm across his face.
He barely turned with the hit, and even when my hand collided with his face, he didn’t seem angry. If anything, he seemed amused.