When Villains Rise (Anti-Heroes in Love 2)

When I turned to Dennis he was oddly bemused, his expression torn between disbelief, anger, and not a little arousal.

“You think you can come in here and threaten me?” he asked with an incredulous huff of laughter. “Sweetheart, I’m the man around here. There is nothing I’m not protected from. You think I’m scared of little Red playing at being the Big Bad Wolf?”

“I think you’re underestimating me because I’m a woman and you’re an entitled, greedy, lazy sinner who thinks he deserves to win simply because he’d a man.” I stepped closer, the gun still in my hand.

I could see in Dennis’s eyes that he wanted to move away from me, that there was something in my feral eyes that scared him, but he resisted. My heels made me slightly taller than him, so I leaned down and in until my red lips were almost pressed to the corner of his mouth.

“I could have been civilized, O’Malley. I could have played fair, but if you want to fight dirty, I’m more than happy to comply. I’m going to beat you at your own game. I hope your loss is so difficult to swallow you choke on it and save me the trouble of killing you myself.”

I pulled away smoothly, turning and adjusting my large purse on my shoulder as I moved toward the door. Frankie followed, more shadow than man.

“This accomplished nothing but tipping your hat, Ms. Lombardi,” Dennis called to me as Frankie opened the door and I made to follow him out. “You should watch yourself before you end up dead just like your father. Did you know they found him in a house in Brooklyn, shot to death like the criminal he was?”

I laughed lightly, pausing for a moment to say, “You are the company you keep, Dennis. I’d be careful you don’t end up just like your childhood best friend.”

Frankie closed the door quickly behind me and moved swiftly down the hall before the guide could come back and potentially get interrogated by Dennis. We intercepted her at the reception and politely decline the practice bay before collecting our things and leaving.

It was only when we were safely ensconced in Dante’s Ferrari that I let out a triumph, angst-edged laugh.

When I turned my head against the seat to look at Frankie, he was smiling.

“Did you get it?” I asked breathlessly.

He nodded.

“So did I.” I pulled my purse into my lap and pulled Dennis’s hand gun from its depths. “I can’t believe that worked.”

“High risk, high reward as the Boss always says. He’d be proud of you.”

I sighed, “Let’s hope he can tell me that in person sooner rather than later.”

“Proud of you too,” he said, shooting me a sidelong look. “All of us are. It’s been damn interesting to watch you come into your own the last few months. You should know, the men love you because of you, not because you’re D’s wife. They started to fall when you hated him.” He laughed. “I think for Addie and Marco it happened the moment you refused to move into the apartment. They’d never seen anyone but Tore or me stand up to him before.”

It seemed that everyone knew my chest was hollow because Dante had taken my heart with him when he turned himself in and they were consciously and consistently filling up the empty cavity with love of their own.

It made me realize how lucky I was and even how lucky I’d always been.

It was amazing how bitterness could blind you to everything else.

As I sat there with Frankie on the way to the apartment to spend Christmas Eve without Dante, I resolved not forget how much I had to be grateful for every single day. Even if he didn’t come back to me for ages, I had so much more to be happy for and it was Dante who had taught me that.

Twenty-Five

Elena

It was strange to be in the Smith Jameson apartment without Dante. Suddenly, the stark black and white color scheme seemed mundane and lifeless without his vivacious spirit to liven the rooms. The guys seemed to sense I was melancholy and needed space, so they drifted off to where ever they went and left me in the living room staring vacantly out the closed patio doors.

The apartment held so many important memories for Dante and me, the balcony where we had our first kiss, the garage where he fucked me for the first time, where I had the first climax of my life, the piano where he’d played me as I played the keys.

I sat down at the Steinway and lifted the glossy cover. My hands fell softly to the ivories, light as a feather, a natural movement that made my soul throb.

The music came unbidden, pouring through me as if I was possessed by the spirit of it. I thought of my prayer to Apollo in the Cathedral of Naples, of my promises to play music again because Christopher shouldn’t have the power to ruin it for me.