The glass is empty again, so I hand it back to her. I don’t bother saying anything this time. She knows what I want, so she promptly heads back toward the bar to get it.
Alec calls after her, “For Christ’s sake, at least make this one on the rocks.”
“Neat,” I call after her more forcefully, though it’s probably an unnecessary reminder. I expect she would’ve brought it the way she knows I like it regardless of Alec’s interference.
“First Mateo, now you just can’t keep from ruining your own fucking life.” Alec sighs next to me, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Why am I the only man in this goddamned family with any common sense when it comes to women?”
“Restraint,” I offer, even drunk off my ass. “I have plenty of common sense, it’s restraint you have more of than me, and only with this one. Someday maybe you’ll find someone who makes you fucking crazy.”
“God, I hope not. If I ever start acting like you self-sabotaging assholes, you have my blessing to shoot me in the face—save the poor girl and put me out of my misery in one fell swoop.”
I nearly crack a rare smile, but he’s not wrong. Love is fucking misery—at least, once you’ve lost the only woman you want but you can’t stop craving her, it sure is. I’ve only ever loved Colette, so I can’t say what it’s like for anyone else.
“I should take her tonight,” I mutter, getting lost in thoughts about how nice it would be to hold her. To touch her again, to feel her sigh against my lips as I kiss her.
“You should talk to her,” Alec says again. “I’m serious. It doesn’t even matter that you’re drunk. I can drive you or you can call Adrian for a ride, but go to her tonight, tell her you still have all these feelings for her and you don’t want her to marry this other guy. Just tell her that and give her a chance to change her mind.”
Ha, put myself out there so she can tell me no again. Over my dead body. I ignore his shit advice and take another drink. “I’ll pass,” I tell him, easily. “I don’t need advice or a shoulder to cry on, Alec. I’ve got the situation under control.”
“I tried to stop Mateo and he didn’t fucking listen to me. Look how well it worked out for him,” Alec says, shaking his head as he stands. “You’d think you assholes could learn from each other’s mistakes, I swear to God.”
“I’m not Mateo, and I’m not making a mistake,” I assure him, my gaze on the amber liquid in the glass.
“Yes, you are,” he says seriously, watching me for another moment. “And once it’s done, it’s done. There’s no taking this back, Dante.”
Looking away from the alcohol in my glass, I meet my little brother’s concerned gaze. His words irritate me more than they should. It’s too late to change paths now, but since the only alternative is giving up on Colette, I wouldn’t even if I could. Alec has more sympathy than the rest of us, so I’m sure he feels bad for the poor asshole who mistakenly thinks I’m gonna let him marry my woman tomorrow.
Me, I don’t feel bad for anyone who’s that fucking stupid. He should have known he’d never take what’s mine without a little bloodshed, and his stomach’s too weak for that kind of fight. It’s fucking astounding that Colette went from me to some lily-livered desk jockey who probably doesn’t even know how to throw a fucking punch.
If anyone is going to rip Colette away from me, it won’t be without a fight. It won’t be while blood still flows through my veins, while my heart is still pumping. The only way anyone is taking Colette away from me is if they take her out of my cold, dead arms.
I won’t feel bad about prying her out of his cold, dead arms instead. Knowing who I am, any man with even a little bit of sense would know that’s the price he’d pay for putting his hands on my property.
I don’t need to convince Alec that this is what has to be done, but I do need to believe my own words, because I’ve bet absolutely everything on this hand. If Alec is right and it goes bad, I lose everything that really matters.
Alec can’t be right.
I’m right.
I know I am.
Clutching that belief as tightly as my glass of Scotch, I assure my brother, “I will never want to take this back.”
2
Colette
Your wedding day is supposed to be the happiest day of your life.
I’ve imagined mine lots of times—usually with a different groom, a different dress, a different guest list… a different everything. I wanted a simple wedding on a beach in Greece, not a Catholic ceremony in a big, beautiful cathedral. I wanted the only guests to be a few criminals in casual wear—my future husband’s immediate family, of course. I wasn’t even sure I’d invite what’s left of my own, because Dante is like a beautiful, seductive natural disaster; he meets you, likes you, erodes the landscape of your life until he can change it to suit him, and before you know it, you become less of who you used to be and more of who he wants you to be. His will is greater than anyone I’ve ever met, everyone I’ve met. By the time I was ready to marry him, I was so hopelessly lost under his current, it wouldn’t have even occurred to me to object if he told me no one in my family was invited to my own wedding.