When Heroes Fall (Anti-Heroes in Love 1)

I hesitated, worried I was forgetting something. Dante’s chest kept distracting me. I’d just noticed the thicket of black hair below his naval and the deeper shadow of raised muscles angling in from his hips to his groin.

“For now,” I settled on after struggling not to swallow my tongue. “If we have an agreement?”

I was too aesthetic not to appreciate beauty in its many forms, even heathen ones like Dante.

“You can call it what you want. A game. A deal. But don’t forget who it is you’re dealing with, hmm? I’m nothing but the devil, and I’ll take you for all you’re worth. When I’m done with you, your precious rules will be in tatters just like your clothes around your feet.” He stepped forward smoothly, diminishing the remaining space between us to a single pulsing inch of air between our torsos. The scent of him, bright like citrus and pepper, invaded my nose as I was forced to tip my head back to look up into his coal-dark gaze. I didn’t flinch, but I wanted to when his hand caught mine and lifted it to his mouth. His words were hot breath against my skin. “I can see the fear in your eyes. I feel it in the pulse just here. What are you afraid of, Elena? That my wickedness might contaminate your thoughts… or your body? Are you so certain entering into this agreement with me is so wise?”

No.

No, in fact, I was fairly certain it was a terrible idea. But he was making it sound as if I had a choice when I did not. At least, not one my pride could live with. My life had been razed to the ground when Daniel left me, and only one dream still lived in the ashes of that fire, pulsing madly.

I wanted to be a nationally renowned lawyer.

This case, written about in the papers and splashed on the news, was already gaining me notice in the right circles. If we could actually win against all the odds, I’d be one of the most highly sought-after attorneys in the city, in the entire goddamn country.

My father’s sinner's blood ran through my veins, and I couldn’t pretend for one second longer that I was above my avarice and egotism.

I wanted success, money, fame.

I wanted to be seen and known and heard.

I wanted it all.

And Dante Salvatore was the only man who could satisfy those base desires.

So, I blinked slowly, disdainfully at the disgraced mafia capo and pressed my hand in his even closer to his lips like a queen offering her servant the opportunity to kiss her ring.

“It’s you who should be afraid. You just don’t know it yet,” I promised as I resolved to keep him at bay with every single one of my resources while I used his case to make my career.

His eyes were dark as freshly tilled soil, fertile with wickedness as they locked on mine, and with a slight brush of his lips against my fingers, he agreed to my terms.

Just like that, I made a deal with the Devil of NYC.

“Excellent, now for my rules,” he countered brightly, tugging me by my captured hand away from the window and the exercise machines toward black mats laid out near the back of the room. “One, you must obey me, Elena. I will not ask much of you, but if I make an order, you must heed it.” When I opened my mouth to argue, he placed his entire palm over my lower face to stop me. “No. This is nonnegotiable. You are in the belly of the beast now, and while it’s safer for you here, it is also still dangerous. If I tell you to do something, it is mostly for your own safety.”

Caving into my childish impulse, I lashed my tongue out against his palm. He pulled away, staring at his moistened hand incredulously. “Did you just lick me?”

I shrugged, the urge to giggle bubbling in my throat. “You wouldn’t let me speak.”

He blinked at me once, then threw his head back to laugh so hard he held on to his belly as if to contain his humor. I watched him, enjoying the sight of all those muscles contracting with mirth that I’d caused.

It felt good to make someone laugh.

To make him laugh.

It was a pleasant sound, that was all, and it wasn’t often I relaxed enough to make anyone laugh like that.

When he recovered, he tipped his head down to look at me with a soft smile pleating his ruddy mouth. It was somehow an intimate expression that made my belly ache.

“What an interesting woman you are, Elena Lombardi,” he said in that same vein, quiet and steady like he was imparting wisdom.

A blush threatened to overtake my cheeks, so I moved away onto the mats as if to test their cushion.