When Villains Rise (Anti-Heroes in Love 2)

“It’s like something out of a dream,” I breathed, shocked by how beautiful I found the typically Italian scenery compared to the dingy Naples neighborhood I’d grown up in.

When the house came into view, I gasped a little. It was a traditional casali, a farm house big enough to host the landlord’s family and the families of the field hands. The large structure was made of off-white stone turned rose gold in the light of the setting sun, the tiled roof red as blood. The arched windows and doorways were covered in creeping bougainvillea and vines so that the structure seemed to have burst from the earth like a plant, something organic and timeless.

I loved it.

It felt like a home at the same time it felt like a palace.

And standing in front of it, in two long rows on either side of the colossal wood front door stood its occupants. I knew from reading books and binge-watching Downton Abbey with Beau that this was how 18th century servants used to greet their lord and lady on their return to the family estate. Twenty-five people, mostly men with guns clothed in black even though it was warm, stood at attention as we pulled to a stop in the circular drive.

“Sei pronto?” Dante asked.

Are you ready?

No.

Not really.

How did one prepare to meet a group of criminals that would suddenly be responsible for keeping you safe? How did I meet men who I’d thought my entire life were the very scum of society and not feel ashamed for the way I’d judged them?

“Stop thinking, cuore mia,” Dante ordered, but there was gentle humor in his voice as he pulled my gaze from the window to his face. “Embrace la dolce vita and enjoy these moments with me, va bene?”

He collected my hand and planted a kiss in my palm. Without thinking, I curled my fingers over it, protecting it.

“This is my home more than any place has ever been before. I spent almost every summer here as a boy with my mother, Alexander, and Tore then I lived here for years after she died. It’s my sanctuary and I hope it will be yours too.”

“I feel like all you ever do is give to me,” I told him quietly, forcing myself to communicate the tangled knot of emotion clogging up my throat. “I was meant to help you and now, you’re only here as a fugitive because of me.”

“Ferma,” he said, stop. “Having to leave the US was always a possibility I planned for and quite frankly, I could have left Addie, Frankie, Marco, Chen, and Jacopo to save you back in Brooklyn, but I chose not to. We all make choices, Lena, don’t let them haunt you when what’s done is done.”

I laughed a little. “You know, I’m always telling other people that but I have the hardest time applying it to myself.”

“I’ll help you,” he offered simply.

And I loved him then even more fiercely than I had the moment before that. Because that was who Dante was. He was a dangerous man with the biggest heart I’d ever known and he never hesitated in offering his love, guidance, or protection to those in need.

“I love you,” I told him for the first time since I’d first declared it on the tarmac in New Jersey.

Why did it feel like the most dangerous thing I’d done all day was say three teeny, tiny words people usually said every day of their lives?

I love you.

It was almost absurd how language could so neatly parcel up such enormous emotion.

“Ti amo, cuore mia,” Dante responded instantly, so easily I almost envied him that capacity.

He leaned across the console and, in front of everyone gathered before the car, he clasped my face entirely in his huge hands and kissed me. He kissed me languidly, sensuously parting my lips with a stroke of his tongue before diving inside to stroke over my own. I moaned at the taste of him, at the rough bite of his stubble against my smooth skin and the sharp pain as he took my lower lip between his teeth and tugged. When he finished, he pulled away only far enough to lean his forehead against me.

“You are with me, now, Elena. Let me welcome you properly to my world.”

I nodded, nerves still low in my belly but quieted by the press of love exploding throughout my chest. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he agreed with a boyish smirk that belayed his eager enthusiasm to claim me in this way.

He was moving away and out of the car in a flash, walking around the hood with a ringing Ciao! to the men gathered to welcome him. They called out in an uneven chorus in return as Dante reached my door and pulled it up and open for me. I took his offered hand, looking up at him as he winked at me.