When Heroes Fall (Anti-Heroes in Love 1)

A loud bang at the door startled both of us a moment before it swung open to reveal Frankie and Adriano holding a large black frame in their hands.

“Buona sera,” Frankie called out as he maneuvered through the door with what I realized was a massive television set.

“What in the world are you doing?” I asked, straightening instinctively, then gasping when it pulled at my surgical sites.

“Take it easy,” Adriano ordered gruffly without looking at me as they lugged the set to the wall opposite my bed.

A moment later, Chen appeared in the doorway, barely offering me a cursory glance as he carried in a wall mount and a drill.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” I demanded again, irritated that they were piling into my room when I was bonding for the first time in years with my brother.

Annoyed that I wasn’t looking my best at all. The minimal makeup I’d been able to wear into surgery had smudged off after hours of sleep this afternoon, and my hair was a wild mess of curls and flattened waves around my face.

I didn’t even like my brother to see me like that, let alone men I hardly knew. Men I could barely admit I wanted to like me.

“You can talk while we do it,” Marco offered as he sauntered into the room with his hands in the pockets of his black joggers. “Won’t take a minute.”

“I don’t need a TV in here,” I insisted as he took a seat on the end of my bed.

I thanked God I was tidy by nature, and no spare unmentionables were lying around.

“Sure, you do,” he insisted. “You’re sick. Binge-watching TV is the only good thing about being stuck in bed. You like HBO? My wife’s addicted to that True Blood. You like vamps, too? Lady catnip, I’m telling ya.”

“Marco,” I said, snapping my fingers to get his attention. He had the bad habit of rambling on and on away from the original conversation. “I really don’t need a television set, and I’m not sick.”

He eyed me suspiciously. “Don’t seem like the kinda lady to lie in bed all day, and that’s what you’ve been doing. Besides, I don’t follow your orders. I follow the boss’s, and he said, I’m quoting him, ‘Marco, get Elena a TV and set it up in her room within the hour.’” He winced. “’Course, it took me a little longer than that, but he don’t have to know that.”

“He already does,” Dante himself drawled from the doorway where we both turned to see him leaning against the jamb with his arms crossed like he’d been there a while.

Marco shot me an “oh shit” look, then smiled crookedly at Dante before ordering Adriano, Frankie, and Chen to pick up the pace.

“I don’t need a TV,” I reiterated to the “boss.”

It was difficult to look over at the long, broad glory of him in that tight black tee and gray sweatpants, more casual than I’d ever seen him outside of the gym, and not feel the ghost of his lips on my neck or those huge hands on my body. Not imagine the sheer power of the naked body beneath his clothes and the size of the dick that was a noticeable swell down the side of one thigh.

I shivered delicately but tried to hide it.

He stared at me steadily, unfazed by my messy appearance and my lack of gratefulness. “Beau said you liked watching it. He mentioned something about a show called Vampire Diaries.”

The only sign of his amusement was a twitch at the left side of his full mouth.

Marco hooted, slapping his thigh. “Didn’t I just say? All women like vamps. It’s a thing.”

“You’re a lady whisperer, Co,” Frankie remarked dryly over the sound of Chen drilling the mount into the wall above the dresser.

“Damn right,” Marco agreed with a cheeky grin.

I couldn’t help but grin back.

“They’re sexy,” I admitted with a little shrug.

“It’s the blood, isn’t it?”

This time, I had to gasp as laughter rippled through my belly. “No, Marco, it’s not the blood. It’s the…I don’t know. The passion, the possession, the animalistic tendencies.”

“Noted,” Dante drawled again from his place in the doorway.

The look on his face was pure hunger, the dark in his eyes expansive enough to drown in.

I swallowed thickly, then reconsidered what he’d said before. “When did you talk to Beau?”

Dante straightened from his lean and strolled in the room on the rolling gait that made my mouth dry, stopping only when he was at the side of my bed.

“Move over,” he demanded before reaching into his pocket and tossing my cell into my lap. “You should really change the passcode on that. Your mother’s birthday isn’t exactly original.”

“Hey,” I protested, hugging my phone to my chest. “Rule number two, no snooping.”

“When you keep things from me, I have no choice,” he said in that agreeable tone that made me see red.