Old Flame Dante’s Story (Morelli Family 8)

He didn’t get mad or defend her memory. He said nothing for a long time, then, still holding me, he declared with a solemn finality that broke my heart, “Maybe that’s too tall an order. Maybe I’m unlovable.”

“You are not,” I said fiercely, pulling back to meet his gaze. “You’re sad right now so I’ll forgive that stupid thing you just said, but you are not unlovable. Beth was unhappy with herself. No matter how much stuff you lavished on her, you couldn’t change that. You couldn’t make Beth like Beth. How could she ever really love you if she couldn’t even love herself? You weren’t the problem, Mateo. You loved her hard. You tried your best to make her happy. Please don’t internalize this and take all that damage for her. Beth thought only of herself when she did this. She abandoned you, she abandoned Isabella.” I shook my head, my gaze dropping. “I’m sorry, but I think it’s awful.”

“You wouldn’t do that, hm?” he murmured.

I stiffened, feeling his breath on my neck, knowing the hug was too tight and I needed to pull out of it. “No, of course I wouldn’t do that to Dante,” I responded, a subtle reminder that I belonged to his brother.

“What about me?” he asked rather casually, given the question. “Think you could have survived me?”

I liked to think I could have, but it didn’t matter. I cared about Mateo, but my draw to him was completely different from my draw to Dante. More surface-level, more casual, definitely not made to last. It had been a raw, sexual, magnetic pull—but it wasn’t love. Mateo didn’t love me either, he just had an aching void from Beth’s death and he was looking for something—anything—to fill it until his heart mended. I didn’t know if he would ever actually try to take me from Dante just to ease a temporary ache, but I did know it wouldn’t end well for anyone if he did.

Trying once more to ease back, I told him, “I think we shouldn’t do this right now. Or, you know, ever.” Pointedly looking down at his strong arm locked around me, I added, “I also think you might wanna ease up a little.”

“Remember when you worked at the club? When I used to come visit you,” he mused, his gaze drifting down the curve of my shoulder, exposed in my strapless dress. His finger followed the path and my heart fluttered at the sensation of him touching me again. Inappropriate memories began to trickle back into my mind, and I searched more fervently for the escape hatch out of that moment.

“I need to go back downstairs. Come with me. Dante is downstairs with Adrian. It’s not good for you to stay in here with…” I glanced back at the bed, but I couldn’t look at her for more than a split second. “Come on. I’ll get you a drink. Adrian will get all this cleaned up.” I tried once more to pull back, but his hold remained steely. Like his brother, there’s no getting out of his hold if he doesn’t want you to. Finally, I pushed against his chest more adamantly. “Come on, Mateo. Please.”

“All right,” he finally said, letting his hand drift down my side and come to rest on my hip.

Dante’s clipped tone from the doorway nearly stopped my heart. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I gasped and sprung away from Mateo. Gracelessly, I stumbled to my feet while trying to keep my short dress covering my ass. “I was just—”

His eyes flashing with hot anger, he didn’t wait for my answer. He stormed across the bedroom and grabbed my arm, yanking me in his direction. “Get the fuck away from him.”

“Dante,” I objected, instinctively trying to pull my arm from his too-firm grasp.

“You were practically in his fucking lap,” Dante snapped, glaring at me.

“I was—” Jabbing a finger toward the bed, I blurted, “Beth… He found her… I was just trying to comfort him. It was just a—an innocent hug.”

Dante’s lips curved up cynically and he looked from his brother to me. “Is that what he told you? That he fucking found her like this?” Looking back at Mateo, his tone harder, he said, “I guess she probably wouldn’t have pressed her tits against you if you told the truth, huh?”

Flushing, I muttered, “I was not pressing my—”

“He didn’t find her like this,” Dante interrupted, his eyes snapping back to me. “He killed her. Strangled the fucking life right out of her. Still want to give him a hug?”

Horror threatened to balloon up inside of me, but it couldn’t rise past the disbelief. “What? No…” I glanced back at Mateo for his denial, because Dante had to be wrong. Mateo might be bad, that’s inarguable, but he wouldn’t kill Beth, the woman he loved.