Page 109 of Cruel Love

“I worked with you for a year,” he says. “That whole time, you were always about the job... except, every so often, you’d go quiet and I could tell that you weren’t thinking about the job anymore.” He cocks his head. “Call her.”

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

I exhale slowly through my nose, fighting that answer.

Dante stands a little taller. “We’ve both been given a second chance, Fox. I never thought I’d ever meet a woman who understood what I was. Lucy may not like the things I’ve done but she understands them. Dani wouldn’t be with you unless she understood you, too.”

“It’s not the same,” I say, staring at a passing car on the street below. “You’ve always known what you are, Dante. You wanted this. I didn’t. I went from a stupid jock to a stupid soldier to a stupid assassin, but I never wanted to be any of that. They’re just men I had to be. And for what? What do I have to show for it? A few stacks of money in a safe?” I scoff. “It’s all pointless. I’m not good enough.”

“Jesus…” He gawks at me. “Did her dad really fuck you up this much?”

“Dante—”

“You’re not unworthy of Dani. If you really thought any of that crap you just spewed, you’d be dead already.”

“Maybe I should be.”

“Or maybe... you can stop being such a fucking baby and call your girlfriend.”

I release the rifle’s grip and glare at Dante’s hard smirk. “Fine. I’ll call her tonight.”

“Good.” He glances at his watch again. “Well, that killed two minutes. Thanks, man.”

“Happy to help,” I murmur.

Chapter 32

Lucy

A shape enters the door frame ahead of me and I gasp.

Gio laughs at me and the rugged sound echoes down the hall behind me. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” I answer. “I just didn’t see—”

“You’re American?” he asks, his brow rising with interest.

I nod, regaining my composure. “Yes, I’m… just a tourist. I’m not Russian.”

“Neither am I.” He steps to the side. “Come in.”

I stand still in the doorway, watching him as he turns and walks back into the room. Before following him, I do a quick scan of my new surroundings. Leather couches. Bright pink and blue neon lights decorate the walls. It’s classy, but then again, not so much…

“Close the door behind you,” he says to me from the drink cart in the corner, “and then tell me where you learned to dance like that.”

I glance over my shoulder into the long, dark hallway. I could bolt right now. I get lost in the pulsing crowd and crawl on my hands and knees to the exit. No one would blame me. I might even feel a little better, to be honest.

I step into the room and close the door behind me.

“Just a hobby,” I answer.

He laughs as he turns back with two Old Fashioned glasses in his hands. “That was quite the show for a hobbyist,” he says. “You must be a gymnast or a circus performer of some sort.”

I force a chuckle as he extends one glass toward me. I take it from him, feeling some comfort in the condensation chilling my fingertips.

Don’t accept a drink for anyone.

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