When Villains Rise (Anti-Heroes in Love 2)

“Of course, a beautiful jewel for a beautiful lady.” The man Dante called ‘Cat’ rubbed his hands together in glee and then grabbed a pair of spectacles from a case on the counter. “Now, what does the lady like, huh? You like rubies, pearls, diamonds?”

I looked up at Dante. “What’s going on?”

He grinned, picking up my left hand to press a kiss to my plain gold band. “You didn’t think I would leave it at this, did you? I am proud of my wife, Elena. I want anyone who looks at you to see that you are unmistakably mine. We need a big jewel for that so here we are at Gatto’s.”

“I have the best,” the shopkeeper said with an immodest shrug.

I smiled at him, but not at Dante. “I don’t need anything else. This is perfect.”

Once, I’d wanted an engagement ring the size of a baby’s fist. The bigger the better. I’d pass by Tiffany’s on the way to work sometimes and look in the window, fantasizing about which gorgeous diamond Daniel might buy me.

Now, all I could focus on was my desire to see Dante a free man, unencumbered by the RICO case or bail jumping. Everything seemed trivial in comparison.

“Indulge me,” he suggested with a roguish smile before turning to Gatto. “Bring us some rubies and pearls, maybe a few grey diamonds if you have any.”

Gatto nodded enthusiastically and raced into the back.

“What about you, then? You want everyone to look at me and know I’m taken by my shiny ring. Shouldn’t you have one too?” I asked, loving the idea of stamping him with brand.

His eyes sparkled. “Feeling possessive?”

“Always.”

“Okay. You can choose what you like and I’ll wear it.”

“Careful, Dante,” I teased, moving away to look at some of the male rings in the display case to the left. “What if I get you a pink or purple stone?”

He leveled me with a look that dared me to fuck with him. “Then I will wear it and spend the rest of our lives punishing you for every single time someone makes a rude comment about my ring, va bene?”

I swallowed thickly, my thighs tingling even though I was sexually exhausted. Still, I was a tiny bit tempted to do exactly that.

“Elena…” he warned.

I laughed, hands raised in innocence. “I promise, I won’t.”

While we waited for Gatto, Dante took a quiet phone call and I focused on the rings in the case. My gaze snagged on a large gold band studded with a single, pristinely perfect obsidian stone.

“Ah, yes, that is lovely,” Gatto agreed as he passed by with a cover tray of jewels. “Come and chose yours before you pick anything. You might want to match them.”

I followed him, hooked through the heart by the sight of those beautiful gemstones.

My hand went to my mouth as I bent over the tray as he set it down for me.

There were six rubies and red diamonds in varying shades from pink to purple to deep, blood red but each of them was enormous. There were four large pearls, black, cream pink, and white along with tiny seed pearls that Gatto suggested could be arranged framing the main choice.

And then there was the black and grey diamonds.

“They can be cut into any shape,” he said as Dante joined me.

My husband, I still couldn’t believe I got to call him that, bent over the table with me and whistled. “Excellent selection, amico.”

“Only the best for you.”

“Which do you like, cuore mia?” Dante asked me, his breath tickling my neck in a way that made me shiver.

“All of them,” I said honestly.

Both men chuckled.

“You have good taste,” Gatto complimented me.

I smiled at him. “You’re the one who picks them so that compliment should do to you.”

He preened.

“What do you think?” I asked Dante, tucking myself further into his side, placing my hand over his heart just to feel it beat.

“Mmm,” he bent closer, using a small diamond magnifier to look at the blood red diamond, the grey diamond, and the black diamond as if he was a jewel dealer himself.

“I like the grey because it is the color of your eyes,” he told me, grasping my chin lightly to look into them. “I like the black because our soul shines brightest in the darkness.”

I agreed with his poetry completely, entranced by his words and the way he looked at me as if I was more priceless than the millions worth of diamonds on the table.

“But it has to be the red,” he declared, lifting the large wine-red diamond from the cushioned tray and fitting it into my palm. My fingers curled around it like one of his kisses. “It is the color of passion and fire. The color of you. But also,” he paused to kiss me, a sudden, savage kiss that brought me to my tip toes. “I think now you see the world in black, white and red, donna mia.”