Old Flame: Dante’s Story by Sam Mariano
31
Dante
Colette isn’t evenout of sight yet, but I can’t hold back. “We’re in the process of shutting down the entire trafficking operation, huh? When did that happen?”
Instead of answering my question, Mateo brushes past me and walks deeper into the study, approaching his alcohol cart and pouring himself a stiff drink. Once he’s taken a couple sips, he turns around, meets my gaze, and asks, “What exactly were you doing locked inside a bathroom with Mia?”
“Playing truth or dare,” I deadpan. “What the fuck are you thinking, Mateo? I know the investigation into Rob’s house is bullshit. I talked to my contact at the police department and she said there’s no fucking investigation and you’re just full of shit.”
“It doesn’t matter if there’s an investigation or not,” he snaps. “There could be, easily, and it’s not a risk we need to take anymore. I’m the head of this family now, I make the decisions about the kinds of business we do, and I have decided we’re going to pull out of trafficking. End of fucking story.”
“The fuck it is,” I argue, slamming his study door shut and stalking across the room toward him. “That is my main fucking revenue stream, Mateo. You shut that down, you cost me literally millions each fucking year.”
“Damn,” Mateo states, like he doesn’t give a single fuck.
My temper stirs. “Are you fucking shitting me right now? Damn? As much as I put into this fucking family, ‘damn’ is all you have to say?”
“All you put into this family? What about what I put into this family? I’ve invested and sacrificed more than any-fucking-body else, Dante. I’ve bled for this family, same as you. Just because I’m at the top now doesn’t mean you get to forget that.”
“You’re the one who seems to be forgetting that,” I tell him. “I’m not a fucking idiot, Mateo. I know exactly why you want to shut this arm of operations down all of a sudden, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the kind of heat it could bring down on us. It has everything to do with Vince’s fucking do-gooder girlfriend. You didn’t have any moral qualms about it until that fucking girl crashed our business meeting and told you to read some bullshit ‘stop the trafficking’ book. Are you the boss of this family now, or is she?”
“Maybe instead of worrying about my love life, you should focus on your own,” he shoots back. “You have a second chance with Colette and you’re blowing it.”
“Oh, fuck you,” I fling back. “You’re the last person alive I’m gonna go to for relationship advice right now. You’re shacked up with one bitch, half in love with another. Get your own fucking house in order before you start talking to me about mine.”
The accusation that he doesn’t have his personal life together doesn’t infuriate him like I hoped it might, but it does remind him that I never gave him a real answer to his question.
“You never explained why you were locked inside a bathroom with Mia,” he states.
“I’m not going to, either. Fuck you. I’d say you can ask her, but she won’t tell you.” Meeting his gaze, I offer a dark smile and something I know will bait him. “Know why she won’t tell you, Mateo? Because I told her not to.”
His hands clench into fists. His nostrils flare as he breathes, his body’s natural instincts preparing him to engage in a physical altercation. He makes no attempt whatsoever to mask his fury with a poker face, and that… I haven’t seen that since we were kids.
If his openly emotional response hadn’t been enough of a warning, the loathing in his gaze would tip me off that I might’ve pushed him too far. After a couple of seconds, his next words obliterate any doubt. “I’m giving Luca to Salvatore as a wedding present.”
All the satisfaction I felt over getting a good dig in drains right out of me. My face falls since he caught me off-guard and I stare at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Luca abused our sister. We were assholes to let it slide. He’s gone, as soon as all the houses are shut down.”
Rage explodes inside my chest. I feel like I should burst open and kill my bastard brother with all the shrapnel. “Bullshit. Bull-fucking-shit this is about Francesca.”
“Believe me or don’t. Doesn’t matter.” Mateo smiles slightly, but there’s still nothing but aggression in his eyes. “I’d tell you to say your goodbyes, but obviously you can’t do that. Besides me, you and Colette are the only two people who know he’s on his way out—Salvatore doesn’t even know yet. Obviously your loyalty can’t be questioned and you’re not going to say anything, so if it somehow gets back to Luca and he runs before Sal can get to him, I’ll have to kill Colette for ratting me out.”
So much rage fills my body, everything locks up and I can’t even move. “So it’s like that.”
Nodding once, he says, “It’s like that.”
I can’t fucking believe he’s putting me in this position. It’s bad enough he’s going to feed my only friend to the fucking wolves, but to tell me beforehand and then tie my hands like this… it’s fucking cruel. “He’s my best friend, Mateo.”
“Guess you’ll need to find a new one,” he tells me, calmly.
Slowly, I shake my head. “You son of a bitch.”
“Son of a sadistic monster, actually,” he corrects. “And thankfully, he’s fucking dead.”
I guess he’s twisted enough knives in my chest for the moment, because after refreshing his drink, Mateo walks past me without another word, leaving me to rage alone in his study while he returns to the party.
---
It takesa while before I’m civil enough to walk back to the drawing room. I put a good dent in the best Scotch Mateo’s alcohol cart has to offer and try to think of some way to get Luca out of Mateo’s crosshairs, but I think it’s too late.
I fucked up letting my temper get the best of me. I shouldn’t have baited him with the girl. I know she makes him fucking crazy. He’s already completely destroyed his relationship with Vince over her, and since Beth died, he and I aren’t much closer. Mateo might still care more about Adrian than Mia, but not me.
And if he did go back to the party and press her about what happened in that bathroom, it’s a lose-lose for me. If she obeys me and keeps her mouth shut, there won’t be words for how pissed he’ll be. If she spills her guts and tells him everything I said to her, all she’ll have to repeat is the empty threat I made about feeding her to Luca—he’ll know who I meant, based on what I said to her—and I may as well be the one loading Salvatore’s fucking gun myself.
Fucking Salvatore Castellanos.
He’s not the most accurate target for my anger, but he is the only one I can shoot at right now. It hits me how much of that Scotch I’ve consumed when I stand up and I’m unsteady on my feet. I shake it off, pull my shit together, and head back to the drawing room.
As soon as I get there, I search the room for Castellanos. I find him camped out in a corner looking cozy with Francesca. Seeing her even pisses me off, since she’s the reason Mateo gave for deciding to kill Luca. I don’t fucking believe that he’s ready to kill Luca now over shit that happened years ago, but regardless of his real reasons, the result will be the same.
Salvatore catches my eye as I head in their direction. He must be able to tell I’m not coming over for anything pleasant, because he tugs away from my sister and pulls himself to his full height—still significantly shorter than me, the little fucker.
I’m just about to them when Mateo’s words from the study break through the alcohol fog and I remember that he said Salvatore doesn’t even know about Luca yet. I can’t be the one to tell him. Mateo lies when he needs to, but he sure as shit doesn’t bluff. He knows I’d never let him harm Colette, but that only means if he went after her to punish me for standing up to him, he’d kill me, too.
He might be willing to rip our fucking world apart over that girl, but I’m not.
By the time I stop in front of Salvatore, he’s already sending my sister off to fetch him a drink. I can tell he anticipates this isn’t gonna be a friendly, “welcome to the family” type interaction.
Francesca looks between us uncertainly, but she heads off anyway.
“Dante,” Salvatore acknowledges with a nod once she’s gone.
“Fancy seeing you here, at my father’s funeral,” I say, my words barbed.
Nodding once more, he says, “I’d invite you to my father’s funeral, but we ran out of My Little Pony invitations. I know you were looking forward to it,” he adds, slapping me on the arm. “Sorry, bud.”
“Don’t touch me,” I tell him. “Mateo may welcome an alliance with your family, but me? I’m not convinced it’s such a good idea.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not up to you, is it?” he tosses back rather casually, for such an irking fucking remark.
“Your boss is dead. Your family’s weak,” I state.
“Well, with me in charge and your sister by my side, I have a hunch we’ll strengthen right back up,” he tells me, mistakenly thinking I might be protective of my little sister.
Shrugging noncommittally, I toss back, “Oh, I don’t know about that. Francesca’s not that strong.”
Up until I said that, he seemed unconcerned, like we were exchanging friendly barbs. Now his gray-eyed gaze turns icy and he takes a step closer to me. “Don’t fucking talk about your sister that way. She’s stronger than you’ll ever be, you sick, selfish fuck.”
Seeing that I’ve hit my mark, I offer him a dark smile. “Funny, Luca didn’t think so.”
Fury leaps beneath the surface of his icy gaze. I can feel the rage coming off him like it was coming off me just a few minutes ago. “I think you need to get the fuck away from me before I make my first Morelli family event a little too memorable and punch you right in the fucking face.”
Turning my cheek, I point right to it. “Go ahead. First one’s free.”
I can tell he wants to. He takes another step toward me, his fists clenched so tightly, his knuckles are white. Rather than throw the punch he’s dying to throw, though, he looks around the room and sees my sister walking back in our direction already. She must have been really worried about this talk to have retrieved the drinks so hastily.
“You’re not worth it, you fucking scumbag,” Sal tells me, shaking his head and taking a step back.
“Not worth skinning a few knuckles?” I question. “Funny, I think you’re worth it.”
“No, Dante. You’re not worth upsetting your sister,” he says, shaking his head like he’s disgusted I didn’t know what he meant.
Francesca hurries back to his side, offering him a drink and keeping one for herself. Her gaze jumps from him to me. We exchange pointless greetings, but she’s the last person I want to talk to right now, so I make an excuse about going to find Colette and go to find more alcohol instead.
Doesn’t much matter at this point that the cater waiters are serving sub-par shit. I take two to make up the difference in quality.
Eventually, Colette finds me sitting in a wing chair, alone in a corner.
“Hey, you,” she says softly, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder.
I lean my head back against the chair and look over at her. “Hey, yourself.”
Grimacing, she gingerly sits on the edge of the chair. “You want me to get you some water?”
“I’d rather you got the keys so we can get the fuck out of here,” I tell her.
“We can’t leave yet,” she says apologetically. “They’re reading the will after everyone leaves, the heirs have to stay for it.”
“Fuck the will,” I mutter.
“It’s just a little longer,” she assures me. For a few seconds, she looks at my thighs as if debating, then she slides off the arm of the chair and into my lap.
That’s more fucking like it. I rest my hands on her hips and look up into her face.
She secures her arms around my neck and leans in close. I think she’s going to kiss my neck, but instead she whispers, “I have to ask you something.”
“What’s that?” I murmur back.
She keeps her tone low to keep the cameras from catching what she says, but I can hear the anxiety in her voice. “Are you attracted to Mia?”
Just the sound of her name brings rage roaring through my veins. “Fuck that little cunt. No, I’m not fucking attracted to her. Why would you ask a stupid thing like that?”
“I saw you together in the hall. You were in the bathroom together. Why were you locked in the bathroom with her?”
“I don’t fucking remember,” I mutter, grabbing Colette around the back of the neck and pulling her closer so I can kiss her neck. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore.”
“I just… I’m obviously not comfortable with you sneaking off to be alone with other women.”
“I wasn’t sneaking off to—”
Colette brings her hand up to cover my mouth and she shakes my head. “We don’t have to talk about it. You say you’re not into her, I believe you. You say it won’t happen again, I believe you. But don’t lie to me, because if you start doing that, I can’t believe you anymore.”
I hold her gaze for a moment. Because I’m a little drunk, it takes longer than it should to recognize the hurt in her eyes. That pierces the fog and I grab her hand, bringing it to my mouth and kissing her knuckles in the tenderest of pledges. “Colette, there’s no one for me but you. I said that and I meant it. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a fucking liar.”
Her gaze is a little less guarded now. “I know you’re not.”
“It wasn’t anything like you’re thinking,” I assure her.
“I feel… I feel like there’s a vibe between you two,” she tells me, clearly uncomfortable saying it.
“There is a vibe,” I tell her. Just as her face starts to fall, I add, “It’s hatred. That bitch controls my fucking brother and I feel a passionate loathing toward her because of it; I’m not surprised you can feel it.”
Colette sighs with relief, then melts against me. “That makes me feel better.”
I shake my head, letting my hand come to rest at the small of her back. “You never have to worry about me with other women, Colette. You know that. I might have to deal with women sometimes when it comes to business, but there’s only one I want, only one I give a fuck about, and that’s you. Never doubt that.”
Snuggling into the curve of my neck, she starts kissing me. Between kisses, she tells me quietly, “I think I got a taste of how you felt about Declan today.”
“No, you didn’t,” I disagree. “When I felt that way about you and Declan, it was real. I was never fucking with Mia, that was all in your head. I had damn good reason to feel like a fucking maniac.”
“I know,” she assures me, pulling back to meet my gaze. “And I’m so sorry. I never should have left. Not just because then he’d be alive, I just…” She looks away, swallows, then looks back at me. “I shouldn’t have left you when things got hard. I should have trusted you. I should have waited and made you talk to me when the time was right and everything wasn’t so fresh. I shouldn’t have left.”
How fucking long have I been waiting to hear those words? They wash over my soul, pulling away the pain and anger from today. “Yeah?” I ask, a bit leadingly. “Why’s that?”
“Because you’re my man and I love you,” she answers sweetly, kissing each corner of my mouth. “And you’re not supposed to hurt your man.”
The first real smile of the day spreads across my face. I grab the back of her neck again, yank her close, and kiss her hard on the mouth. “Damn right, you’re not.”
