Old Flame: Dante’s Story by Sam Mariano

18

Dante

Days passand not much changes at home, so I focus more on work. It’s easy to do because everything there blows the fuck up.

Some of the work Vince was too busy doing to deliver Colette’s things to my door Monday was apparently squiring Mateo’s chatty girlfriend around town and then out on a date with my brother. An ordinary enough night—except their date was interrupted by a guy from Antonio’s crew. Meg ended up getting shot, but the bullet that hit her was meant to take out Mateo.

Consequently, my work life is a complete shitshow right now. Despite the war going on around us and our missing sister, I’ve mostly been doing day-to-day shit and just keeping apprised of whatever intel Adrian collected and passed on before he left.

That is no longer an option. All hands were already on deck, but now it’s more than that. Now we have to strike back, and harder. Now it’s not just a conflict over territories and leadership style; now it’s a fucking war.

On the bright side, with Meg in the hospital and everyone feeling sorry for my brother, Adrian is already back working for us. On a temporary basis, he says, just until we get the war with Castellanos under control, but he’s fooling himself. He’s taken the bait, he’s on Mateo’s hook; my bastard brother will find a way to keep him here if he has to kill Meg himself, make it look like an accident to stir more sympathy and make it seem like he needs Adrian around to keep us all alive.

Scheming prick.

I don’t care about any of that. Adrian’s good at what he does, so if my brother manages to bring him back into the fold, it’s a good thing for us.

Meg getting shot makes me feel a lot better about my decision not to let Colette befriend her or Mia, but it also brings to light the danger that could follow me home. I decide that until everything is settled with Castellanos, I need a trusted guard on Colette anytime she’s not with me so I can make sure no one hurts her.

I’d really like to put Luca on her. He’s a fucking beast, he can rip a man apart without a weapon. Luca’s too much though, and if I took him off his slave house, I’d have to put someone less qualified on it. Last thing I need is some bitch making a break for it when the monster’s not home, maybe getting out, getting attention.

My brother is already on edge from the failed assassination attempt. If I fucked things up that way in the name of keeping Colette safe, he’d throw it in my face like I threw it in his face when he wanted to keep Mia instead of testing her a few months ago. He cost me my girl, and I cost him his. It’s not a game I want to keep playing now that I finally have Colette back.

I call in Xander instead. I tell him not to talk to Colette unless he has to because Colette would absolutely hate him. I don’t like him on a personal level either, but he’s a good soldier, so it doesn’t matter. He’s not here to be her friend, only to ensure her safety. For the most part, he should be stationed outside the house. Due to the risks of my line of work, I’ve made sure my home is pretty secure already, but as much as I hate to alert Colette to what’s going on, she probably needs to know.

I manage to put it off until Friday. Colette only had the week off from her flower shop (she was planning to spend it in the Bahamas on her honeymoon) and I had hoped by the time that window closed, she and I would be on better terms.

We’re not, but the time has come and it can’t be delayed any longer.

When I return home from working Friday, I search the whole house before finding Colette sitting on the back patio looking out at the lake again. My blood runs cold at the sight. Before the shooting, I didn’t mind, but right now? Sonja was supposed to keep Colette inside the house so no Castellanos goons could sneak past Xander or accost Colette via the beach. Our area of the beach is private, but there’s a public beach access just up the road. If I wanted into my house and I saw a guard out front, I’d park down the road and walk up the beach. Walk right up my steps onto my back patio where Colette would be sitting, completely defenseless, with a fucking cup of tea.

Because of my concern, my voice is sharper when I demand, “What are you doing out here?”

Colette turns to look at me over her shoulder, surprised by my anger. “I—What?”

“You were told to stay inside the house,” I clip, grabbing her arm and tugging her out of the chair, checking the perimeter just to be safe. I’m far from a nervous person, I barely remember the fucking feeling, but right now it’s sparking all my nerves. My hand on her arm tightens when she tries to pull it away from me.

“Dante,” she objects, but I don’t waste time arguing with her. I haul her ass into the house and lock the back door once we’re inside.

Yanking her arm away from me, she pivots and glares up at me, her blue eyes stormy and dark.

“Is this how it’s going to be, then?” she demands, her voice rising. “I’m your literal prisoner, locked up inside? I’m not even allowed to go out on the back patio? What could possibly be the reason for that?”

“Mateo’s girlfriend was shot.”

Caught off guard by that bit of news, Colette’s blue eyes widen, then she loses a shade of color. “What? Why? Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine.”

“Who shot her?” Colette asks.

I sigh, glancing out the window at the lake. As soon as I moved into this house, I had all the windows replaced with bulletproof glass, so I’m not real worried about anyone getting in. Part of my wine cellar also doubles as a panic room, but I don’t know if Colette remembers how to use it. I dread having to have this conversation with her, having to remind her how dangerous my life is when this was one of the excuses she used when she left.

Well, dangerous or not, there’s no leaving this time.

Walking around the couch, I take a seat and pat the cushion beside me. “Come sit down. We need to talk.”

Colette’s brow furrows with concern, but she comes around the couch and gingerly sits on the edge. “What’s going on, Dante?”

“My family and another family in Chicago have had a conflict lately. It’s necessary business, I don’t want to get into the details with you, but they escalated things and tried to kill Mateo Monday night. They can’t get to our dad because Mateo’s house is a fortress, but if they are trying to take out Dad’s heirs…”

Paling even more, she eases back against the couch cushion. “You’re next in line after Mateo.”

I nod my head. “Again, I don’t want to get into details, but Adrian is back with us while we deal with this. Part of his plan is to take out Antonio’s heirs. His son’s in hiding, but since we can’t find him, we’re going after the next guy in line. If they follow the same logic, they can’t get to Dad or Mateo at the mansion, so it’s not impossible they might come after me. Nothing is going to happen,” I assure her, lifting her chin to make her meet my eyes so she knows I’m serious. “You’re safe with me, but I need you to obey me. I can’t keep you safe if you don’t listen, Colette. You can’t go outside when I’m not here with you. I have a guard on the house when I’m not here and if you leave the house without me, he’ll be with you, but you have to be cautious. I can’t have you reckless and rebellious, disregarding your own safety just to spite me.”

“You have a guard on me?”

“Yes. He has to be with you at all times. It’s the only way I can keep you safe.”

“I understand,” she assures me, nodding her head. Her tone is calm enough that I know she means it, so I finally relax and stop adding to the tension building in my lower back and shoulders. I have enough on my plate with work; I don’t want to have to deal with Colette’s fucking defiance when I come home.

“I need you to go easy on me right now,” I tell her, despite her insistence earlier this week that she doesn’t care what I need. “Everything is a disaster and I need there to be one place I can fucking relax and put my guard down. I can’t have our shit getting in my head and following me to work. I need to be on my game right now.”

Colette looks down at her lap but doesn’t agree or disagree. “Are you in a significant amount of danger when you’re not at home?”

Answering honestly, I shrug and tell her, “I don’t know. This isn’t the best time to be the only Morelli not living at the mansion, I’ll tell you that.”

“Maybe we should stay there until this is over,” she suggests with a shrug of her own. “I know living with Mateo again is not at the top of your wishlist, but like you said, it’s safer there and you would all be in one place. Alec still lives at the mansion, I assume?”

I nod my head. “All but me and Joey. Well, and Vince now, but I don’t see him being a target.”

“Is Joey staying at the mansion?”

“No. Mateo won’t let him.”

Her eyebrows rise, but she doesn’t bother questioning my family politics. “Would he let us?”

“We are not staying with my brother,” I tell her, immovably. “We’re perfectly safe here. I don’t need Mateo’s help to protect you. Like I said, I have everything secure as long as you listen to me. Do you remember the protocol we had in place in case anything went wrong?”

“I don’t have a go-bag anymore.”

“We’ll pack you one tonight. We’ll pack two, actually. I’ll put one in the wine cellar in case anything happens and you need to go down there. Do you remember how to secure it?”

Colette nods her head, her blue eyes wide. “I remember.”

We did a dry run right after I had it put in so she would know the drill, just in case, but of course I hoped there’d never be an occasion she would have to use it.

“We also need to talk about the shop,” I tell her. “I know today is your last day of vacation. I was going to let you go back tomorrow, but now I want you to get someone else to cover until we settle all this. The shop isn’t secure and I can’t change that, not in a couple days. I could put Xander on you while you’re there, but if someone wanted to, they could shoot you right through the fucking window. I can’t let you go back until I’m sure you’ll be safe.”

She’s staring at me, but not with anger, annoyance, or outrage this time. “You’re letting me go back to work?” she asks, clearly surprised.

“Well, yeah, if you want to. I told you, you’re not my prisoner, Colette. There’s a new car for you in the garage, I ordered a credit card for you so you don’t have to worry about money. I brought you here to take care of you, not to imprison you.”

She seems to be at a complete loss for words, but I don’t know why. I’m the one who bought her the damn flower shop to begin with. I’m the one who keeps it going during slow months, buying shipments of flowers for various offices that have leases on our properties so Colette can pay the bills. I know she’s unaware of the second part, but she damn well knows I’m the one who encouraged her to start her own business all those years ago.

I mean, sure, I had my own ulterior motives. Didn’t want my woman working at a fucking strip club, even if she was just a waitress and not one of the girls taking her clothes off. Still entirely too many other men ogling her in her skimpy outfit and trying to touch her. It was a recipe for disaster.

Anyway, she likes being a florist much better, so it was a win-win.