Chapter 30

What a fucking night!

Standing at the door of Slate's bedroom—which looks more like a luxury hotel—I sip my coffee as he snores. He's unaware of just how off-kilter I feel this morning because of what happened between us last night.

I could blame the wine, but it wasn't the culprit. It helped it along, sure. But the ambiance, laced with the attraction that's boiling over between us, had been what took me nose-diving over the edge of sanity with Slate at The Red Door. What scared me this morning when my eyes fluttered open was the first thought I had about doing it again.

And again.

I don't know if I'm staying with him. He's a dangerous man. We still haven't discussed why he'd come back home covered in blood or why he'd looked so comfortable in it.

A grumble roars through the room, and my back stiffens. "Come back to bed! The sun isn't even up yet!" Slate groans, rolling over and lifting one lid off a beautiful eye to look at me.

I smile. "The sun is, in fact, up. The blackout curtains are hiding it from you."

He smirks and closes his eye again. "Men who stalk the night sleep through the morning."

His words raise the hairs on the back of my neck.

Moving toward the side of the bed, I sit, setting my coffee on the nightstand. "Can we talk?"

He sighs, pulling himself up to sit with his back against the headboard. Opening his arms to beckon me into them, he smiles brightly. Sleep clings to his face, and he looks like a different man while wearing it. One who's not a killer.

"I'll stay right here, thank you," I tell him, gripping the blanket in my right hand tightly.

He eyes my fist and laughs. "It's a little late to grow afraid of the wolf's bite, little rabbit."

"I'm not afraid. I need to remain level-headed."

He nods. "Mmm, you find me too alluring to think straight. I understand completely."

I lift my lip in disgust at how right he is. "Will you be serious?"

He sits up straighter, muscles rippling and on full display. The blanket covers his lap, and I hate myself for how much I want to peel it back and see how unclad he is down there.

I remember a little past the club. I vaguely remember him showering me and making me drink water before snuggling me into bed.

It was like I was floating in a space where I was free of the burdens surrounding me and fuck if I didn't love it.

But I also fear the lack of memories this morning. Sure, I trust Slate, but I know internally that I shouldn't.

And that scares me.

"Go ahead, bunny. Talk." His voice pulls me out of my head, and I shift on the bed to look right at him.

"Tell me why you were covered in blood when you came home." My demand is stern and unwavering.

His eyes darken. "No."

I stammer for what to say. I'd thought that if I played along—as Dante suggested with the shaking of his head before we left last night—he'd eventually tell me what happened when we were alone.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't get too comfortable with me, bunny. Your nose doesn't belong in family business."

The way my chest had stung at his words was unmistakable, but I tried to hide the wince.

"So, what, I'm a kept woman, then? That's what you want me to be? I'm to behave for you, bend to you, but not ask questions?" Emotion leaked into my voice without my permission, and I know it's written all over my face.

He lets his head fall back to the dark wooden headboard. "Bunny, you're not cut out for me. For this life. We both know it. Why we've been kidding ourselves, I'll never know. But you don't belong in this world."

"You know that. I know that. But I thought…"

He cuts me off. "I know what you thought. Because for a moment, I thought it too. But I didn't miss the fear in your eyes when I walked in here covered in my spoils."

Spoils. As if the blood had been a reward for a job well done. And maybe it had been. I've known he has a proclivity for blood and darkness. Had I been lying to myself as I leaned into desire with him? Did I know this moment was coming the entire time?

"I killed for you," I squeak.

His eyes fill with muted emotion. "You did. I owe you a life debt. And I always pay my debts, Brynne."

While I recently found out that my suspicion was dead on, the men who came for him meant to harm him, or worse, I still have blood staining my hands. I felt like that tied us more than I guess it does.

"Don't think I don't want you, Brynne…"

I clear my throat, stopping his words. "So, you're staying in this life, then? You're never going back to our island. Your island," I correct at the last second.

He doesn't miss my mistake, however. Hurt dashes through his eyes, like the fleeting fog on a summer's morning.

"I don't know. There's still work to be done here, and I don't think you're safe with me."

It feels like the coward's way out of a situation that's gotten too complicated for him.

But do I belong here?

He might be the one saying the words, but is he right?

My entire body burns as I fight tears. As I fight the inevitable. It's not that we don't want one another. It's that we're from two different walks of life.

Two different worlds.

"You know, the entire time I was with you, letting you feed me, letting you cut me…" I take a steadying breath. "My family and friends thought I was missing?"

I let the news settle, and he sits up even straighter. "What do you mean?"

I sigh. "The show announced me as missing weeks ago. But they told my mother they didn't find any evidence in my camp."

Slate narrows his eyes in deep thought. "But the case?"

I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. "I just thought you should know someone else took it. It wasn't the show. Maybe your mafia enemies? Hell if I know. Seems I walked into a fucking nightmare when I emerged through that snowstorm."

Slate reaches for me, and I don't let him connect. Standing, I grab my coffee and head to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower."

He moves to get out of bed, and I put a hand up.

"Alone," I say.

He stops, pinning me with a look of despair, but I swallow past the thick emotion in my throat and find my way into the massive bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me.

Logically, I know it won't keep a brute like him out. But I hope, for my sake, he will let me have this moment.

While I lather and wash, thoughts spin and emotions feel like a heavy bag of sand weighing my chest down. I knew when I met him we were different, but now it seems his life is just too complicated for me. Too dangerous, even.

But the confusing part—the part I'm warring with—is that I want him more than anything I have in my life before.

I don't know if it's what I truly want, or if it's what his proximity does to me. I'm short-circuiting every time I'm near him. I can't be blamed for losing my inhibitions, can I?

But love isn't supposed to be dangerous, is it?

After toweling off and making sure the tears hadn't left behind obvious marks or puffiness, I moved out of the room.

Slate is nowhere to be found, and I'm grateful. I walk into the kitchen make a bagel and try to figure out the espresso machine that has more bells and whistles than anything I've ever seen before.

Dante comes in holding a box before sliding it across the counter towards me. "Sit, have a pastry. I'll make you some coffee."

"Oh, thank god," I say, ignoring my bagel as it pops up and opening the box of pastries.

I pick up one that's lightly dusted in powdered sugar and has thin layers of pastry that look like leaves stacked beautifully atop one another. "What is this?" I ask, biting into it as I lean over the box.

Dante looks back from the machine, smiling instantly. "Good choice. That'll pair well with a latte. It's Sfogliatella. Better known as lobster tail."

A decadent cream escapes on my next bite and tickles my tastebuds. "Oh my heaven, what is in this?"

Dante chuckles, temping down the espresso before locking the grounds into the machine. "Semolina pudding and ricotta cheese mixture. Stuff of the heavens, literally."

I have to agree.

"Double shot, alright?" he asks.

Last night is clinging to me, so I shake my head. "Triple," I manage through a mouthful of lobster tail.

"Long night, huh?" He waggles his eyebrows in true Dante fashion. "Bad Daddy kept you out till the wee hours of the morning, the way I hear it."

I choke on my pastry before setting the rest back into the box. "And how did you hear it?"

He's steaming milk as he glances over at me, looking like the hottest barista I've ever seen in my life. "His detail, of course."

My entire body flushes with embarrassment. "Excuse me?"

He gains an uncomfortable edge to him for a moment. "You knew he had a security detail, didn't you?"

I shake my head. "And they followed us into… Did they see…" Panic wavers inside me, and I suddenly feel like a triple-shot latte might not be necessary because adrenaline is going to wake me up perfectly fine.

"Oh, Ms. Brynne, they're bound by blood not to see anything. No one will know what happened last night."

I don't know why I'm so panicked. It was an exhibitionist-type club. I knew people were watching, but they weren't people I knew. Not that I know Lucio and Alessia. I'm sure everything they let me see of them is a perfectly contrived act, but I don't want them to know, either.

"Bound by blood," I breathe. "Everything in this life is so bloody."

He sighs as he slides my perfect-smelling latte across the counter towards me. I let it warm my hands before sipping tentatively.

"You're a coffee god, too? How are you single?" I ask without thinking.

A painful wince crosses his features.

"Oh," I set the coffee mug down, "I'm sorry. I didn't think."

He shakes it off, in his mafia soldier way. "It's fine. I'm fine. Can't settle in this life for long, you know?"

Well, those were cryptic words. I furrow my brows but keep silent. I've done enough tasting of my foot in my mouth this morning. I don't need to do more damage.

He rounds the bar and sits next to me. Facing forward, he says, "My wife was gunned down. This life is fraught with peril. It was the last time this family went to war."

War.

It has me wondering if they're in one now.

The latte turns sour on my stomach, and I push it away. Laying a soft touch on his arm, I peer into his bright blue eyes when they meet mine. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

He nods once, tears on the edge of falling. "What we had was beautiful. Things like that don't last."

I open my mouth and begin to argue, but think better of it and close my eyes. The good things in life seem fleeting, so who am I to knock his philosophy?

He narrows his eyes on me. "You're going to run, aren't you?"

I bite my lip, looking away. I'd dropped the veil I'm not adept at keeping in place. Dante had looked right through to my fucking soul. My truth.

"Do it safely, hmm? I'll get Joe to take you to the private plane. He can take you where you need to go."

My heart speeds at the idea of being home. Also, at the idea of leaving Slate in such a way. But if I have to say goodbye to him, I won't leave. And then what? Will we only have something beautiful until something catastrophic happens?

No. I'd rather go home and live knowing that he's out there somewhere. Alive and safe. Even if it's not accurate.

Battle wages inside me as he sets his hand on mine to where I'd lain it across the bar top. "I understand needing space. I think he will, too."

A stilted laugh burst from me. "Have you met the same man I have?"

He shakes his head. "No, Brynne I haven't. You know a completely different man than I know."

I swallow.

He nods toward the bedroom. "Go on, get ready. He's at a meeting with the Don now. We have little time."

I'm wholly unsure if this is the best idea, but I know I won't be able to say goodbye to him.

I rush around and get all the things that belong to me ready in my pack, leaving the rest of the things he bought me on the bed, along with the phone.

Leaving behind a note, I dash out the door with Dante.

Heading home has never felt so soul-crushing, but I know it's for the best.

Even if running from a mafia Underboss is the stupidest thing I've ever done, I know he'll see reason.