Page 58 of Gilded Princess

“You sure? What about Maddie?”

I let the use of her nickname from his mouth roll off me like water on a duck’s back.

“What about her?”

I mentally pat myself on the back for the growl of anger I kept from my voice. I’m not jealous, exactly. I trust Dante with my life—and hers. And I’m thankful he can be there to protect her when I can’t.

“How long are you planning on keeping her here? I can’t watch her every day for the rest of my life, and she can’t stay here forever.” I just imagine him rolling his eyes at me.

It’s like he doesn’t know me at all. Of course, I can fucking keep her there forever. When she runs out of clothes and whatever, I’ll just buy her new things. I rather enjoy the idea of coming home to her every night, even if she’s already sleeping. It’s strangely comforting just knowing that she’s sleeping down the hall from me.

The most obvious answer keeps flashing in front of me like some neon diner sign. I know Dante’s thinking the same thing I am right now.

Marriage.

I don’t answer him, which is answer enough. The fact that he’s acting like he’s not having the time of his life with my girl is a little insulting. I know he knows I’ve been watching them together. Not that there’s anything to watch really, but just their interactions are hardly purely platonic.

He huffs, the noise loud and frustrating. “We really need to talk about this. You can’t marry her.”

I shrug and stare at the twinkling lights, letting my eyes unfocus. “We can talk about it later. I’ll be home tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, okay.” He disconnects the call before I can say anything else, and that little show of anger is almost as bad as it gets between us. Dante’s always been my best friend and my advisor. The kind of guy you call when you need to dismember and dispose of a body.

I know there’s reason in his point, but I can’t see another way, not yet, at least. And I’ll be damned if my father attempts another shoddy marriage arrangement. That shit might work on my younger brother—not that I’d let it happen—but I’m a made man now. I don’t abide by that sort of contract, not for anyone.

I sigh, raking my hands through my hair as I mentally prepare myself for this phone call. Two fingers of whiskey later, I call my father and deliver the news.

Chapter Twenty-Two

MADDIE

I’ve been here for nearly a week, though the first day or two was kind of foggy. My head feels good now, and most of my aches have dulled to something way more tolerable.

I’ve settled into a routine of sorts. It still feels a little like I’m on some extended vacation—but one where I’m stuck inside a house with someone I only recently met. Given everything that happened recently, it’s a bit of a surprise that I agreed to it.

There’s just something about Dante that makes me feel safe. Protected.

Of course, I thought I’d be with Matteo when I originally said I’d stay here, but I don’t mind Dante pulling bodyguard duty. A lot of people I know have part-time bodyguards, and given that I just had my own for a few days courtesy of Lainey and her men, it’s not as odd as it could be.

Strangely enough, I haven’t seen Matteo since that first day when he told me my life was changing—even if only temporarily. I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or not.

I can’t deny that I’ve enjoyed the last week getting to know Dante. You can tell a lot about a person in those small moments of quiet. And I’ve learned that while Dante is a man of few words, the ones he does speak hold plenty of weight. And I like it.

I like him.

The smell of fresh popcorn rouses me from my room. In the back of my mind, I wonder how Mary and Lainey are. I’ve had little contact with each of them—just a few text messages with my sister.

I idly wonder if I’ll have any missed messages when I get my phone back. Maybe a few from Blaire.

And Leo.

I’m not sure how I’m going to explain my sudden radio silence to him. I don’t want to lie to him, but I’m not sure how well the truth will go over. I have to hope that he’ll understand why I didn’t reply for however long I’ve been here.

Time loses all meaning when I’m indoors all day and sleeping at weird hours. The floor-to-ceiling windows welcome the sunshine each morning, but the blackout blinds in the room I’m staying in make it feel more like midnight than noon.

Glancing at the clock, I’m a little embarrassed it’s nearly eleven o’clock in the morning. I’m not used to sleeping so late. Usually, I’m up pretty early, but either I really needed the rest or those blinds are messing with my circadian rhythm.

Or maybe it’s because Dante and I stayed up until three o’clock in the morning watching Game of Thrones. I still can’t believe he’d never seen it. We have two more seasons to go, and I haven’t made it a secret that I’m dying to see his reaction to everything.

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