Page 53 of Unspoken Obsession

I roll my shoulders back and sigh, then smile, tilting my chin up, doing my best not to look terrified.

"Can I make it up to you?" I ask, softening my gaze as I search those blue eyes for answers.

"Make it up to me?" He asks, confused, but interested in what I'm saying.

"Yes, let me take you to dinner. As an apology."

As soon as I invite him to dinner my blood begins to pulse faster through my veins. There's a rush, the same sensation Iused to get playing cards. I'm playing with fire, not cards. I have been playing with matches from the start - but now that I know who he is, the thrill just got more intense.

But at least by making this bold move, I'm trying to regain control over the situation.

He chuckles, narrowing his eyes.

"I just told you I am Dante Russo, and your response is to invite me to dinner?" He is amused - amused is better than angry.

"Well, you did also tell me you like me and wanted to spend more time with me. And something about cutting fingers off." I raise my eyebrows at him, a cheeky smile on my face.

"I said that." He nods, taking a step towards me. "Yes, I would love to join you for dinner."

My skin tingles as he slips his arm around my waist and pulls me up against him. "You are a problem, Frankie -- one that I hope to understand one day." He leans close and whispers against my lips, then he presses his mouth over mine and kisses me, sending shivers down my spine. I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck, holding onto him, savoring the moment.

When he pulls away from me, I smile and say, "Right now - I need to go and I was hoping - seeing as you know this casino so well - that you could point me out the back door so that I can avoid being followed by my father's goons. I don't need them knowing I got into trouble." I ask, knowing I am pushing my luck a little.

He laughs and shakes his head. "Come on, I'll walk you around the back."

Dante walks me to my car, the long way around, avoiding going back onto the gaming floor, where my idiot guards are waiting.

He kisses me goodbye again at the car, and then I climb in and drive home with a mixed sense of fear and relief.

I know his name.

He must care about me because otherwise, he would have had me banned; he wouldn't even have taken the time to tell me what was happening. I am so relieved that isn't the outcome - my son and I can still stay here in Las Vegas. The nightmare I almost caused for myself just because of the stupid card games is a sharp reminder of what really matters to me - my son. My son and his safety are all that matter.

I've heard my father rage about Dante Russo many times in the meetings he hosted inside his mansion with his allies. His name came up a lot - sometimes in annoyance and sometimes in respect. The bottom line is that I understand Dante's power in this city. For my father to be giving him that much attention can only mean that he is wary of him.

Someone that makes my father wary - makes me nervous. That man is afraid of nothing. If my father catches on that I am spending time with him, it will be an automatic assumption that I am plotting against him -- that I have turned.

My life just got even more complicated.

I park the car underground and head upstairs where Clarissa is waiting for me. She says goodnight and leaves. I sit alone on my sofa, thinking about everything that has happened.

In all honesty, the most logical and safe thing for me to do is never see Dante again. My mind is already at war with that idea.

I am still convinced he is the father of my child, and while I've got no concrete evidence, I want to wait and try to confirm it.

In fact - learning who he is and that he owns both casinos - it makes it even more likely he is the man from the gala that night. He lives there. He was at an event for the mafia families; it has to be him. He called himself a shadow.

I want it to be him.

I want him to be Damion's father because I have fallen in love with him.

"Shit," I mutter, annoyed with myself for getting into this situation.

Why did I fall for Dante Russo?

It's times like these that I really wish I had a friend I could call and talk to about everything. I need advice. I need someone to tell me I'm not crazy - or that I am - who knows?

I stand up from my spot on the sofa, shaking my head. I go to bed because I can't sit here all night thinking about nothing. I need sleep. And tomorrow I need to plan a dinner date for Dante Russo and myself.

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