When Villains Rise (Anti-Heroes in Love 2)

Something in my gut delighted in the sinfulness of wearing it there while I looked otherwise suitable.

When I returned to the cabin both Frankie and Dante were seated for landing. The former whistled low as I took my seat, laughing when Dante shot him a raised brow glower.

“She’s beautiful, D, what do you except?”

“I expect respect,” he countered. “You treat her like a piece of meat, amico, I’ll let her treat you the same.”

When they both looked at me, I raised a haughty brow at Frankie. “Next time ‘you look beautiful, Elena’ would suffice better than a catcall, Francesco.”

He bit the edge of his smile as he saluted me. “Aye, aye, Donna.”

I took the seat across from Dante and smiled when he extended his leg so that our shoes were pressed together. He leaned forward, forearms on his thighs, fingers dipping into a bag on the floor.

“I have a present for you, lottatrice.”

“Oh?” I asked, unable to curb my excitement.

I could admit to being a material girl, I loved gifts.

He chuckled at me. “This is not the kind of gift you are used to, I think. This more…practical.”

My eyes widened comically as he pulled a small silver gun from the bag and held it in the palms of his big hands. It seemed oddly innocuous there, too small in his grip, but there was no doubting the threat of the weapon.

“Surely I don’t need that,” I whispered even as my fingers reached out to touch the cool metal. “You’ll keep me safe.”

His features softened slightly, but he still shook his head. “No. Only a very foolish man thinks he will be able to protect his loved ones at all times. You’re a good fighter already. I will teach you to be good with a gun. I won’t have my own egotism be a chink in your armor.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I know I shot Seamus and I don’t regret it, but I don’t want to make killing people a habit.”

His lips twitched with morbid humor. “No, I don’t want that either. But it never hurts to be prepared to defend yourself, does it?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

“Have you ever held a gun before the other day in Brooklyn?” he asked, already moving to place the weapon in my limp hand, molding my fingers to the grip. “This is light and small. The recoil shouldn’t jar you too badly. This here is the safety, press it in when you want to fire. You cock the top like this to reload the chamber. There is a makeshift range at Tore’s villa we can practice on.”

I stared at his hand over mine on the gun and wondered why the sight was so powerful. “I’ll learn if it will make you feel better. But you should know, I never settle for mediocrity. If I’m going to learn to shoot, I’ll probably become a better shot than you.”

I knew he’d laugh, but the sound still impacted me just the same. It moved me like piano music, like fine Italian wine. I wished I could record it and listen to the sound whenever we were apart.

“I look forward to seeing you try,” he said with a wink before pulling back to hand me a small black holster from the bag at his feet. “This is a thigh holster.” I swallowed thickly when he moved to his knees in front of me again and ran rough fingers up my calf to my thigh. He held my eyes as wrapped the contraption around my right leg. “Wear this here whenever we are outside the villa, si? I had meant to give them to you back in New York. You are lucky I am a sentimental man and brought them with me now.”

I nodded, struck mute by the unexpected eroticism of Dante rucking up my skirt to fit the gun in the holster. He lingered, gaze as hot as his fingertips on my delicate skin.

“Still have the taste of you on my tongue,” he murmured just for me. “It’s not enough. When we get to safety, I plan to lay out on the bed and feast for hours. Could you handle that, Elena?”

I shuddered.

His lips curled sensuously as one hand gripped my thigh above my knee in a hard squeeze that shot sensation to my core. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t. I’ll tie you to the posts and eat my fill.”

My mouth opened at the force of my quickened breath. “Dante…”

He arched a brow in challenge, knowing I wanted to protest even though the idea made me hot and tingly all over. “Si, lottatice?”

“I don’t think I would like to be tied up,” I breathed, but the words were more of a question than conviction.

“I disagree,” he said easily, dropping a kiss to my knee that burned like a lit cigarette. “But I would never make you do anything you did not want. Do you understand that?”