Page 32 of Enforcer

“You’re sure you’re okay with this? We want to know you’re alright, but also...”

“Need privacy, I get it, girl. Don’t worry.”

“Why didn’t you just tell Slate what happened? At the very least, you could say you’re uncomfortable staying with a man.”

I laugh, leaning forward and kissing her on the cheek. “I’m a big girl. Besides, Dante and I should probably talk it out and finalize this. I don’t need it looming over me this week; it’s too important.”

Brynne beams, looking down at her glittering engagement ring. “It is an important week.”

I tip her chin up. “I’m so fucking happy for you guys.”

Her face softens. “Thank you, Lyss. And thank you for being here, for upending everything to be beside me.”

“Hey, if you’re running away with the mafia, so am I. You don’t get to have all the fun without me!”

She laughs, and we hug before she helps me out of the room with my bags and toward Dante.

He takes two of my bags and leads me into the hall. “Come on, tesoro. Time to go home.”

Great, a new nickname.

His apartment isn’t farfrom Slate’s and is equally as breathtaking. We get off on the penthouse floor, and he leads me inside.

I look around, astounded at his place’s clean look and feel. The floors look as though you could eat off them. Near the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living space, there’s a grand piano—one I’m sure he can’t play a note on.

“The guest room should be clean and ready for occupancy; it’s down this way,” Dante says, leading me down a hallway dimly lit by a plug-in light.

The floors are black marble, and the walls are a deep burgundy.

Oddly enough, itfeelslike Dante.

Like a warm, dark space—a safe one.

“Here we are,” Dante says, pushing into a door at the end of the hall on the left. He switches a light on, and my eyes roam over the space. “There’s an ensuite bathroom with toiletries the maid keeps stocked. The towels are below the sink, and I think that’s it. A television comes out of here; the remote is in the bedside drawer,” he tells me, kicking a box at the very end of the bed.

“How on brand of you,” I tell him.

Who has a television that comes out of the end of their bed?Scarface, that’s who.

He grins. “There’s food in the fridge, and my room is across the hall. In case you get scared of the dark and want me to hold you.”

I purse my lips and shake my head.

As he shoves his hands in his pockets and makes for the door, I call out to him.

“Dante?”

He turns, crisp blue eyes looking a little darker tonight—a little more burdened.

“Thank you for letting me stay. Even if I was a pain in the ass earlier.”

He nods. “Good night, tesoro.”

I sigh, turning back to the room. As I shower, dress for bed, and brush my teeth, I remember what Slate said about the church, how he’d asked Dante if he was alright.

Part of me wonders if I should check on the man. What if St. Andrews was where his wife’s funeral was? He could be hurting at the expense of helping his friend and boss plan his wedding.

But I also know I want to maintain the separation between us—or start to. We most definitely got off on the wrong foot when we met, and I need to backtrack now.

---