Page 31 of Rescued By the Mafia

“I don’t know if I fully understand…” Iris drew a deep breath.

Dante set his coffee down and cupped her cheeks in his palms. “Remember when my mother called you ‘sweetheart’ and you asked her not to?”

Her eyes widened for a second and she nodded. “I didn’t mean to offend her.”

“You didn’t. You were drawing a boundary, and that’s okay. Especially in a new relationship.” Dante waited a beat for his words to settle. “I’m not going to ask you if every little thing we do is okay before we start. I’m too impulsive for that, and I want you to see—so that you can believe—how you affect me. But that might mean I say or do something that upsets you in a similar way as being called ‘sweetheart’, and I don’t want that, either. So if I do, use a safe word, and I’ll know to stop. That’s how we trust each other. Any time, anywhere, you use a designated safe word, that situation comes to a halt. That’s my promise to you.” He let his lips kick up at the corner. “Even if we’re in a crowded room and you have to shout it to me.”

Amusement lifted her lips as his hands fell away. “Could I text it, or mouth it, instead?”

“That depends on the crowd, probably.” He studied her for a beat. “You understand my point, then?”

Iris nodded. “I think so. But … why do you keep using the plural, if we’re talking about a word that brings everything to a stop?”

Dante held up two fingers. “Think about your own example of ‘red’ and ‘yellow.’ One means ‘stop immediately’ and one means ‘hit pause’, more or less.” He lowered one finger as she nodded again. “I want you to come up with two words for similar meanings. One will tell me, unequivocally, that whatever situation we’re in needs to end. You are absolutely certain you’ve been asked to go too far, and you need out. I will make that happen. As long as you use it honestly, you never need to feel guilty over using it.” He paused for a moment and firmed up his voice. “Never, Iris. You are my priority. I need you to hear that.”

Her hands fisted in the skirt of her dress and her cheeks flushed a dark pink. But she didn’t turn away.

Dante softened his voice again. “The second word, alternatively, will tell me that you’re becoming scared or uncertain. Maybe you have some desire to keep trying, but you aren’t as sure you can, for whatever reason. Maybe you need more information before you’re comfortable proceeding. What it means is that you might be willing to re-enter that situation at a future time, but only after you’ve grounded yourself and perhaps gained something new and beneficial first. Outwardly, the immediate situation still stops. Privately, we learn, we communicate, we grow. And again, you never need to feel guilty about using this word as long as you’re using it honestly.”

Iris nodded, slowly, and released her death grip on her skirt. “Mudslide,” she said.

Dante arched a brow. “I beg your pardon?”

“Mudslide,” she repeated. “When I was little, my mom taught me to tell her that word in a real emergency. She said if the house ever caught fire while I was home alone, or something equally bad, to find some way to call her and just say ‘mudslide.’ So I think I can remember that now … for my full-stop safe word.”

He nodded his understanding. “Any ideas on the other?”

She scrunched her lips, dropping her gaze to the plate in front of her. “Not immediately.”

Dante leaned in and kissed her cheek on impulse. “Take the day, Snapdragon. There’s no rush.” He bit back a sigh and pushed to his feet. “Come see me off to work?”

She lifted her gaze up him from her seated position and he wanted to growl. Every damn thing this woman did drove him crazy. He’d never experienced anything like it. Then she stood, took hold of the lapels of his suit coat, and tugged him down for a wet kiss. She rolled her tongue along his before easing back, hands sliding down his chest. “Have a good day at work.”

Fuck.

Iris was bored. She knew there was a well-equipped gym in the basement, but she wasn’t the kind of person who turned to exercising when she had nothing to do. She wasn’t used to really having nothing to do. She could have tried the television, but she wasn’t much for daytime TV, either.

The second half of her security detail had arrived about half an hour previously—a lean man in his late forties named Ernesto—so she could technically go out if she wanted. But the only places she could think to go were the craft store or her former apartment. Both were bad choices, for varying reasons. The apartment in particular. Though she probably would need to face that sooner than later. She supposed that was something she would have to make herself talk to Dante about when he returned. She had so many things she should try to talk to him about.

Most of them were subjects she’d rather leave untouched.

The ringing of her phone jarred Iris unexpectedly out of her wandering thoughts. She blinked in confusion at the screen, recognizing the name but not understanding why he’d be calling. She gave herself a shake and quickly swiped to connect the call. “Hello?”

“Iris? Hi, sorry to bother you,” Aurelio said. It had been most of a week since she’d spoken to the manager at The Dragon’s Roast, but his voice held a distinctive warmth that she identified right away. “I understand you won’t be able to continue on with us, and I was curious if you still wanted a tangible check or would prefer an electronic payment.”

Her mouth fell open but she caught herself before she could ask what in the world he meant. She’d forgotten. It had only been one night, but did she really think she would be content retreating to a space by herself after knowing the comfort of Dante’s arms?

“Iris?”

She cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she said, feeling self-conscious. How much did Aurelio know? If he knew she wasn’t coming back in to the restaurant, that had to mean Dante had contacted him, right? So it was probably inappropriate if she referred to the manager as her superior in any way. “Ah, did … Dante call you?”

Aurelio’s calm tone finally faltered. “D-Da—” He coughed. “Yes. Mr. De Salvo called to let me know you wouldn’t be coming in again.”

That had been the logical assumption, yet the confirmation was still reassuring. Which meant she owed him an answer, and she really only had one, since her pennies had been pulled from her previous bank before they’d sat down with Dante’s. That’s right…. She’d never looked inside that folder, and now she had no idea where it even was. First, though, she had to answer Aurelio’s reasonable question. “Check would be better, please.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll have that ready in an hour, you can come in and pick it up any time. I’m sorry we weren’t a good fit.”

She smiled into the phone. “I hope we can still get along.” It felt presumptuous to assume she would ever set foot in that restaurant after she picked up her one and only paycheck, but it also seemed like a possibility, if she really was embarking on a long-term relationship with the restaurant owner. She disconnected and stared at her phone, trying to remember if she’d seen the file from the bank at all after the explosion.

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