Chapter Thirty-Four

Dante

The scent of chlorine reaches me before I see the water, mingling with the fragrance of tropical flowers from the conservatory. I pause at the entrance, taking a deep breath. Then, squaring my shoulders, I step out into the sunlight, my eyes immediately searching for her.

She's lounging on a chaise, engrossed in conversation with Sophie. For a moment, I just watch her, drinking in the sight of her voluptuous curves in a tiny blue bikini. Then, as if sensing my presence, she looks up.

The smile that spreads across her face is like a sunrise, brilliant and warm. And then she's on her feet in an instant, all pretense of cool abandoned as she runs toward me, her steps perfectly uneven.

I open my arms just as she reaches me, and suddenly she's there—warm, soft, real. Her arms wind around my neck, her legs around my waist, our bodies molding together like two parts of a whole. The scent of her—sunscreen, chlorine, and vanilla—fills my nostrils, making my head spin.

"Dante," she breathes, her voice muffled against my neck. I tighten my arms around her, one hand sliding into her hair, cradling her head.

"I fucking missed you, baby," I murmur, my lips brushing against her temple, then my tongue sweeps inside her mouth, and I groan as her taste seeps onto my tongue. One hand leaves the curve of her ass to find the knot of skin on her hip, and her breath stutters as she writhes against me.

A throaty laugh makes us break apart. Sophie is standing now, one hand resting on her swollen belly, an amused smirk on her face.

"And that's my cue to leave," she says, her eyes twinkling. "I still haven't recovered from the last time I had to go soak my eyes in bleach after one of your cuddles."

Addy laughs, the sound vibrating against my chest, but she doesn't let go of me. I feel a grin tugging at my own lips.

"Sorry, sis," I say, not feeling sorry at all.

She waves a hand dismissively, already turning to leave. "Just try to keep it PG-13 until I and the babies are out of earshot, yeah?"

As Sophie's footsteps fade away, I turn my attention back to Addy.

"How was . . . work?" Her green eyes are locked on mine, filled with avid curiosity and a blatant hunger. My attempt at a teasing reply instantly dies on my lips.

Instead, I say, "Work was good. Win some . . . lose some."

"Wanna talk about it?"

I huff out a surprised chuckle. "Do I want to talk about it? Sure. Which part do you want? Bright and shiny or dark and twisted?"

I cup her face in my hands, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. She leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When they open again, they're on fire.

"What if I said twisted?"

Well, then. Without a word, I step backward, walking us into the shallow edge of the pool. The warm water envelops us, and Addy's legs tighten around my waist as I wade deeper into the pool.

Her skin is slick against mine, her breasts pressing against my chest with each breath. I can feel her heartbeat, or maybe it's mine—they seem to have synchronized, creating a rhythm that drowns out everything else.

"Ask me anything you want to know," I say then capture her lips with mine.

The kiss is hungry and desperate, a week's worth of longing poured into it. Addy responds eagerly, her fingers tangling in my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp. A low groan of pleasure escapes me, the sound getting lost in her mouth.

When we come up for air, we're both breathing heavily. Addy's cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen, and I've never seen anything more beautiful. I press my forehead against hers, content for a moment to just hold her, to breathe her in.

But I can see the questions in her eyes, the curiosity that's always there. She bites her lower lip, a gesture I've come to recognize as a prelude to a difficult question.

"So," she begins, her voice soft but steady. "You and Sal found the bomber, right?"

I feel my body tense involuntarily as I realize that she really does want to know. Something wild and uncontained takes flight in my chest.

Here I am, forcing myself to be patient with her and not scare her, and yet to my delight, she seems eager to lose herself in me.

"We found him," I say, keeping my voice neutral.

Her fingers trace patterns on my shoulders, a soothing gesture that contrasts with the intensity of her gaze. "And you managed to . . . talk to him?"

I almost laugh at her choice of words. "In a manner of speaking, yes," I reply, watching her face carefully.

She nods as if confirming something to herself. "How long did the ‘talk' last?"

I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment. When I open them, Addy is still watching me, waiting. "About three hours," I admit.

Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't look away. "So then he died of a broken heart?" she asks, her tone making it clear it's not really a question.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, you tortured him for information until his heart gave out," she says. It's not an accusation, just a statement of fact.

I incline my head, studying her. There's no disgust in her eyes, no fear. Just a calm acceptance that both relieves and worries me. "I'm concerned with your thought process here, Addy," I say, my brow furrowing.

She shrugs, the movement causing small waves to lap against us. "I can't work, I can't blog. All that morbidity has to go somewhere."

Her words hang between us for a moment. Then, to my surprise, she continues, "So, is that . . . is that what you do? For work, I mean."

I can't help the laugh that escapes me. "Did you not hear when I said bright and shiny? I have a life beyond killing people, baby."

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with that answer. "So what exactly do you do for the Outfit then?"

"I'm surprised you've not pumped it out of Sophie yet, what with your daily gossip."

She giggles and slaps me playfully. "We don't gossip about you."

"Really?" I shift her in my arms, moving us to the edge of the pool where I can sit on the underwater ledge and keep her in my lap. "What do you talk about then?"

"Everything else."

"I see." I slowly loosen the tie of her bikini until her breasts spill into my palm, gratified when she doesn't bat an eyelash at being half-naked outside.

"I run a company called Voltex. It's a company based in Detroit that manufactures lithium-ion batteries for electric cars."

What I don't tell her is that half of Voltex is now a smoking pile of ruins as of half an hour ago, thanks to the Irish Mob.

Addy's eyes go wide, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O' of surprise, and then her lower lip disappears between her teeth when I softly stroke a rosy nipple.

"What, did you think I spent my days lurking in dark alleys and mugging people?"

She chuckles, the sound ending in a moan when I pinch her nipple. Still, I can see the curiosity burning in her green eyes warring with her growing desire.

Then apparently making up her mind about what she wants more, she drags my hand down into the water and between her legs. I don't need to be invited twice. Nudging the crotch of her bikini to the side, I slide two fingers inside her hot depth. Addy buries her face in my neck and moans as I slowly finger her.

To my surprise, she continues to quiz me. "And . . . ah, the other gritty aspects . . . drugs? Prostitution? Gambling?"

I smirk, "Oh yeah, we've got those too, but that's your daddy's forte."

When I feel her small teeth playfully sink into my neck, my cock throbs in response. I stand and walk us to the smoother edge of the pool, then crowd her against the wall.

"Be serious," she chides.

"I am. Your daddy is the drugs and narcotics expert," I say deliberately, drawing out the word ‘daddy'.

Addy still hasn't asked me anything about Orlando since I dropped that bomb. Instead, she's drawn closer to me. Which tells me she's still reeling. The more overwhelmed Addy is, the more she seeks physical outlets for her confusion.

Not that I'm complaining about how Addy is dealing with her trauma. I'm loving it. I'm also determined to give her the emotional space she needs to process this.

She'll ask me about Orlando when she's good and ready.

"The Outfit is a diverse group of companies and businesses," I tell her. "Some are illegal, but we're working on phasing them out."

Addy nods slowly, her fingers tracing over the muscles of my back. "But the violence . . . that's not going away, is it?"

I sigh, wishing I could lie to her and shield her from this reality. But I can't do it. So I meet her searching gaze head-on. "No, it's not. Until the end of time, we will always be a target. Defending the people we love is the hallmark of the Mafia, tesoro ."

"The people you love," she repeats, her voice a low murmur.

"Person I love. You."

"You love me?"

"What do you think?"

She drops her face to my neck and resumes her slow torture, biting and licking until, unable to take more, I reach between us and line my cock against her entrance. I cover her mouth with my hand and slam home, swallowing her soft cry. I don't let up until she's convulsing around me.

As she comes down from her orgasm, I sense a residual tension in her, and I know there's more on her mind. But I can't talk to her while she's driving me insane, so I reach behind me to take her legs from around my waist, and I pull out of her, but she holds fast.

"Dante. I'm . . . not done yet," she protests.

I smile. She likes it hard. "I'll give you what you want after you tell me what's on your mind."

She looks up at me, worrying her lower lip. "Oh, I just want to ask you something. I dunno what you'll think of it."

I tense. "If it's about Benjamin O'Shea—"

She shakes her head, her damp curls bouncing. "No, it's nothing like that."

"What is it then?"

"Dante," she says, her voice steady, "could you teach me to defend myself?"

My cock jumps with excitement, easily giving away how I feel on the subject. But I tell myself what I'm thinking can't be what Addy means.

"You were taught martial arts, weren't you?" I ask, careful to keep my tone neutral.

She shrugs. "I tried to learn. Jiu-Jitsu and Krav Maga. But there was only so much I could do. I'm not that strong, not as fast, my hip—"

"Baby." I put my finger against her lips. With my other hand, I start to trace arcs across the sensitive scar on her hip. "You're as strong as you need to be."

She shivers in response but presses on. "Anyway, those skills are useless where it really counts."

"Where does it really count?" I prompt, waiting for her to explain what she means, although the dark part of me already knows where she's heading and is leaping for joy.

"Dante, most threats don't look like me. They look like . . ." She trails off.

"Me. Big, armed, dangerous," I finish for her.

"Exactly. I can't take down someone like you."

"Not naturally, no," I affirm. "But you don't need to know how to kick my ass, Addy. You only need to know how to kill me."

Her eyes go wide. And for the first time it's not fear I see in them. It's intrigue. And then dismay. "I can't use a gun. Or a knife, like Sophie."

My smile turns wicked, and my arousal is starting to ache like a wound. I need to fuck her again. Hard. "It's easier than you think. All you need is your mind."

"Teach me then."

I cup her face in my hands, searching her eyes. "You're sure?"

Addy nods, her gaze unwavering. "I am. I don't want to be helpless anymore. I want to be able to protect myself . . . and the people I love."

"The people you love?" I tease back.

She nods. "You."

A bone-deep joy spreads through me, warming me more than the sun ever could. Still with her legs wrapped around me, I stand up in the pool, water cascading off us. "Let's go."

"Now?" Addy asks, brows arched in surprise.

"Right fucking now, baby," I growl, already walking us out of the pool.