Old Flame: Dante’s Story by Sam Mariano

4

Colette

The whole worldis blessedly fuzzy. I feel freer in my own head, disconnected from my body and my aching heart. The drugs make me feel so dissociated and that’s normally what I hate about them—though my aunt gave me double my prescribed dosage, and I don’t think she did it by accident—but today I’m happy to be high. High above Colette Fontaine and her horrifying reality.

It could be minutes or hours passing by; I’m in such a fog, I can’t tell the difference.

Given how dazed I am, I am too disconnected from my own pain to react as I should when the bedroom door swings open so forcefully, it bangs against the wall. A tall, broad-shouldered man barges into the bedroom, a thunderous scowl on his devilishly handsome face. He’s wearing a jet black suit that hugs his muscular physique perfectly, a snowy white dress shirt underneath—a stark contrast to the black heart that beats beneath the attractive surface.

My heart leaps at the sight of him, sweeping in like a dark, avenging angel, a harbinger of death and misery with his sights set on me. He looks braced for a fight, but I don’t know if I want to give him one. I know Dante. I know how he treats his opponents, and despite the fact that he’s here to steal me away like some dark prince in a twisted fairy tale, I know enough about this man and his family to know whatever affection for me he once had—or might even still have—isn’t enough to protect me, just like it wasn’t enough to protect Beth from Mateo once she had made the fatal mistake of crossing him.

A man like Dante can’t lose, because he refuses to. Whatever he has to do to win, he’ll do it. If there’s a line drawn to show how far is too far, Dante will step over it like a meaningless crack in the pavement. He won’t bat an eye at doing things far worse than I could ever even imagine.

I can’t afford to lose any more than I already have. I can’t afford to cost anyone else more than I have. I’ve seen now how dirty he’ll play, how unimaginably low this monster will sink, and I know I don’t have the arsenal to win right now.

I wait silently on my bed, in my wedding gown, suspended in my diazepam bubble. I know my concerned aunt is in the next room, and if I fight Dante the way I’d love to, ripping into him, clawing at his handsome mask to reveal the monster hidden beneath, maybe she’ll try to save me.

Maybe he’ll kill her for getting in his way.

Wouldn’t be the first time he killed to possess me. Wouldn’t even be the first time today.

He came prepared for a war, and I’m not foolish enough to believe he has a moral qualm about stacking up casualties. On the other hand, he knows I do.

“You,” I mutter lowly, watching him as he approaches my bedside.

“Me,” he says evenly, holding my gaze. He pauses at my bedside, his eyes raking over my big, puffy white dress. Then he looks over my once-familiar face, only today my features are stained with heartache and smudged mascara. He put it there—every bit of hurt, every sad smudge belongs to him, and he doesn’t even look remotely ashamed in the face of it.

My tone low, I demand, “Why are you here?”

“You know exactly why I’m here,” he states, no nonsense, as fucking usual.

A crack of sadness penetrates my bubble. Tears well up in my eyes, but I hardly feel them. “To take more from me than you already have? To cause more destruction, to hurt more people, to ruin more lives?”

“If I have to,” he says, his dark gaze locked on mine. “If that’s what it takes to bring you home.”

He’s so selfish, I could scream. Even knowing how useless it is, I can’t help lashing out at him in some small way.

“My home will never be with you, not now. You went too far. I hate you, Dante. You were the worst mistake of my life and I wish I’d never met you. Get out of my house. Get out of my life.”

“No,” he says, simply. “We already tried that, remember? It didn’t work.”

“It did work,” I shoot back, glaring at him. “It worked for me. I was finally happy again, and you destroyed it.”

He rolls his eyes at me like I’m overreacting. Like he accidentally scuffed the toe of a favorite shoe instead of murdering my goddamned fiancé.

“Go away,” I say, more loudly than I intend, but his dismissal enrages me. “You’ve already taken everything from me, isn’t that enough punishment? Just leave me alone.”

“No,” he says again.

Jabbing an accusatory finger in his direction, I open my mouth and release stupid, reckless words. “I know you did this. I know you did. And I won’t let you get away with it, either.”

“No?” he questions, as if faintly amused by my histrionics. “What do you think you’re gonna do about it, beautiful?”

His old endearment slices right through me, but the stab of pain only makes me want to lash out more. In a less drugged up state, I might call on enough common sense to think of Beth and hold my tongue, but in this moment, the only victim of the Morelli family I can think about is Declan. At the moment, I don’t give a fuck if Dante kills me, as long as he knows how much I despise him first.

“I’ll go to the police,” I threaten.

His brown eyes go dead, no longer amused. Pointing at me, he says, “Don’t say a stupid fucking thing like that again, Colette.”

“I mean it,” I swear.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Declan wasn’t a part of your world. He wasn’t fair game. You murdered an innocent man, and you’re going to pay for it.”

Dante looks over his shoulder, checking to make sure none of the goons he must have brought with him are within hearing range. They must not be, because rather than deal with an urgent mess I’ve made by running my mouth, he looks back at me and shakes his head irritably. “Say another fucking word, Collette, I dare you. I’ll send Luca back here tonight to pay your auntie a visit.”

The venom drains out of me, along with the color in my face. “You—” I start to say he wouldn’t, a practiced belief, but then my new reality asserts itself, forcing me to shut my mouth.

If he has decided he wants me back for whatever reason, of course he would. He’ll do anything to get me back in line, hurt anyone to control me.

He’s a monster. The beautiful man I loved turned into a monster.

Or maybe he always was a monster, I just didn’t see it before.

I’m so fucked.

He cocks an eyebrow, seeming to know what I almost said. “Wanna test me? Want to find out if I mean it? Say another stupid fucking thing like that and I promise you, you’ll find out just how serious I am.”

“This isn’t fair,” I whisper, shaking my head. “He didn’t deserve to die. You don’t deserve to win.”

I don’t realize I’m crying until Dante takes a step forward and brings his thumb to my cheek, dashing the wet drop away. “Life’s not fair, beautiful. Now, shut that pretty mouth before it gets you into trouble. You’re coming with me, whether you want to or not.”

Without another word, he positions one arm around my back and one under my legs, then lifts me. Perhaps to be cruel, he holds me bridal style as he carries me out of my bedroom—me in my crumpled white wedding dress, him in his sharp black suit. He’s stepping right into Declan’s shoes without anyone’s permission, and it makes me want to spit in his face. He doesn’t deserve to wear Declan’s shoes. Declan was gallant and sweet, Dante is selfish and cruel.

I think he enjoys this, so while he holds me and looks right in my face, I tell him coldly, “You don’t hold a candle to the man I wanted to marry, Dante. You never will.”

A hateful, intimidating look shoots through his dark eyes and his jaw clenches. I know my jab landed, and it makes my broken heart so fucking happy.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, simply.