Page 46 of Rescued By the Mafia

Her fingers curled against his skin and Dante held her a little tighter. The icy fire of his rage licked at his blood as he started to see where the story was leading.

“I told him no,” Iris said, so softly he nearly missed it over the thrum of renewed bloodlust in his ears. She sniffled. “I told him no, so he beat me.” Her tears poured over and she lifted her gaze back to his, exposing the pain still embedded in her soul. “He beat me for days, until he was sure I’d lost the baby. I nearly died, and he just told everyone I was depressed and wanted to be alone.” Her voice choked. “He left me to bleed in the shower and clean up after myself. It was the worst he’d ever beaten me.”

Killing that son of a bitch every day for the rest of his natural life wouldn’t be enough to make up for the pain she’d suffered. Dante understood that. Just as he understood that a repeated vow to slaughter her abusive ex wasn’t what she needed to hear this time.

Dante slid his hands up her body until he had her face between his palms, thumbs wiping away her tears. He bent down and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her as gently as he was capable, then met her gaze again. “If you want to see a doctor, ever and for any reason, you are free to do so. I can come with you or not, that’s your choice. I know a few who will even make house calls if you would rather they come to you.” He gave her a second to hear that before telling her what he suspected mattered most. “And whether or not we have kids, I’m still going to marry you. We can always adopt if we really want to. Hell, we can adopt even if we have kids of our own. I can afford it.”

Her breath stuttered and more tears built in her eyes, though this time they held there. “Promise me … promise me you won’t change your mind about me if I can’t give you a proper heir.”

Dante released her face in favor of unhooking her bra and sliding it from her shoulders. “We haven’t talked about the wedding yet, have we? Join me in the shower and tell me all the things you dream of for your wedding day.” He dipped his hands into her panties, squeezing her ass as he leaned in to murmur against her lips. “I’m going to give you the fucking world, Snapdragon. All you have to do is trust me.”

fourteen

Separated

She couldn’t do it. Despite how badly she wanted to see it done, when the moment came, Iris chickened out and took Dante up on his offer to stay home while he and his men swarmed the storage facility. There was no guarantee Paul would or ever had been there, of course. Everyone knew that. But it was a lead Dante felt couldn’t be ignored. Iris understood his reasoning. She wanted Paul to be found and caught and stopped from whatever terrible thing he had planned next. But coming anywhere near face-to-face with him while he was anything less than bound in chains? She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t risk it.

So she stayed behind, even knowing her mind would wander. She stayed behind, and tried not to drown in the guilt.

It wasn’t like she didn’t also want to see Megan and Parker safe, or at least saved. Even if Megan never spoke to her again when it was all over. Iris was fairly desperate to see that her first post-Paul friend made it through this crazy ordeal. Her heart broke just thinking of the pain and trauma her friend and her friend’s little boy were going through, all because of her.

Iris started toward the kitchen without any real intention behind her movement.

Please, let them be okay. She dearly hoped they’d be found in that storage unit, likely bound and petrified but hopefully not more than bruised. But that hope hung on the other prevailing uncertainty—the fear that the rental space had somehow been rigged to blow, as her car had. In which case, not only did she not want either victim anywhere near that scene, but her stomach rolled at the thought that Dante might get caught in the explosion. Why did he have to go?

She knew, of course. He wanted Paul in his grasp, where he could return a little of the pain and torture Paul had inflicted on her over the years. If—when—Dante got his hands on Paul, Paul would be dead. She believed that. And that … that she wanted to see.

Iris ran her fingers along the countertops, stepping past the fridge, eyes skimming along the cabinetry. So much storage, so much beautiful, gleaming tile and surface area.

“If you don’t have anything else to do, find something to clean. Don’t be fucking lazy.”

Her feet stopped and her fingers curled into a fist above the counter. She definitely wanted to see that day, that moment, when Paul finally ceased to be. When she could tell the nagging voice he’d implanted in her own subconscious to follow him to Hell.

She drew a breath and turned from the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry and she was not going to hunt down whatever cleaning supplies might be tucked away in the pantry, or wherever else. There wasn’t anything in need of cleaning. She wasn’t a maid. She just needed to distract her mind.

Her gaze slipped past one of the rear windows and lingered on a small, bright garden. The colors pulled her closer and Iris let herself out the nearest exterior door, walking until she stood amongst the flowers. The garden wasn’t overwhelmingly large, but it was surprisingly beautiful. Did Dante have a gardener with a penchant for colorful blooms?

The subtle fragrance in the air helped relax her and Iris lowered herself to sit on the path in the center of the garden. Maybe she’d ask Dante to expand this portion of the yard and add a little bench in the future, if her terrible ex didn’t destroy what she was building. She smiled at the flowers in front of her, so brilliantly defying the setting sun.

She had finally told Dante her most haunting nightmare, and her most treasured dream. She had expected the story of violence to spark a rage in him, and she’d seen it in his eyes when she’d worked up the nerve to look at him directly. His anger wasn’t what had caught her off-guard. It was the way he’d actually responded.

He’d been so supportive, even encouraging. He’d offered comfort despite the storm of rage in his eyes that said he would just as gladly be doling out violence of his own. He hadn’t been the least bit put off by the possibility of a childless future.

Her heart thrummed and Iris laid a hand over her flat stomach. Maybe, when everything with her ex was settled, she would take Dante up on his offer of finding a doctor. Her bruises and bones had healed, but she didn’t really know what kind of damage Paul had done inside. It would be smart to find out. So, maybe, when everything else was in order….

She smiled, her reflection progressing to when she’d confessed her silly, long-harbored dream of a wedding.

“I’m not willing to wait until next spring,” Dante had said as he pressed her back against the shower tile. “But everything else is doable.” He’d said a few more things, murmured some other words in the realm of making her outdoor wedding fantasy come true, but all she clearly remembered after was the enthusiasm with which he’d agreed to limo sex.

Her hand lifted to her chest and clutched at the fabric there. Thinking back on it, Iris was pretty sure there was no denying it any longer. She hadn’t argued, hadn’t even suggested slowing down. “Engaged,” she whispered, the thought slipping past her lips. There was no ring on her hand, but what other word could she use? She and Dante were talking about marriage—sooner than later.

She was engaged. Engaged to Dante De Salvo.

Something zipped past her, emitting a sort of high-pitched whistling sound and moving so fast she didn’t register it at all until the flower bush at her shoulder rustled. Iris frowned, wondering if it was some kind of bug coming out with the encroaching night, and she heard the invisible sound again. This time accompanied by a rush of air like a slash along her face. She blinked, confused and becoming uneasy, and lifted her hand in time to see the flower nearest her shoulder burst apart.

O-oh my—

“Get down, ma’am!” Carlo’s shout echoed in the air a heartbeat before a heavy body barreled into hers, rolling her into the flowerbed. A hand came up, shielding her head, and she heard a distinct grunt at the same time as she registered another sharp whistling.

---