Page 56 of The Devil's Pawn

I rub the insides of my thighs discreetly behind the kitchen island, needing to bathe in the coldest waters to quench the fire he’s lit within my body.

“What happened after?”

“Nothing. I took you to bed,” he sighs.

“Are you sure? Did we sleep in the same bed?”

I know we did, because I heard him. It wasn’t a dream. No way. If he doesn’t admit it, then I’ll know he’s lying about something.

“We did. But you fell asleep right away.” He goes back to his seat, picking up his drink and finishing it. “I’d never touch you unless you were sober enough to remember how good I made you feel.”

“O-okay,” I stammer, still not sure whether he’s telling me everything.

But I have nothing else to go on. No other reason to believe he’s being anything but honest.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

DANTE

My brothers don’t know,but I’ve been talking to our parents over the years, for as long as they’ve been gone. I don’t know if they can hear me, but if there’s a chance they can, I want them to know I miss them. That we’re doing okay.

I’ve spent the past three days figuring out my feelings for Raquel. I’ve stayed away as much as I can, sleeping in a separate room and giving us both space.

I won’t be free of my guilt over having feelings for her until I talk it out with my father. I can’t help wanting his guidance, wherever he is. If anyone can give me the peace I need to accept how much I care about her, my father can.

I was only twelve when he was murdered, but I remember how kind he was. He treated every person with decency and respect. He’d be ashamed of me for what I’ve done to her, using her as a pawn in our game for the Bianchis.

There’s one thing I do know, though. Utilizing her as a way to get her father to come out of hiding is no longer an option. We’ll have to figure out another way. I’ll fight like hell to keep her away from all danger, and I won’t be the source of it.

“Hey, Dad,” I say in my office at work, looking up at the ceiling as though he’s an invisible force floating or something. “I don’t know if you’ve seen what’s going on, but things with Raquel are a mess. I thought I could keep her at arm’s length, even while being married to her, but I’ve realized I can’t stop how I feel.”

My fingers dig into my eyes, my shoulders now slumped over the desk as I continue.

“I know you never hated the Bianchi name like we do now, but I thought having feelings for her was betraying what they did to you and Matteo. She’s nothing like them, Dad,” I explain, sighing as my eyes go back to the ceiling. “I didn’t want to like her. It just happened, and I’m not willing to let her go. I want what you and Mom had. That strong kind of love. That connection you shared that I remember now, through the eyes of the man I am today.”

I run a hand down my face, gripping the back of my neck.

“She could be that for me. If she’ll forgive me for all the lies and bullshit, that is.” I laugh, as though hearing him tell me to stop being a fool and tell her the truth before it’s too late. “I’ll tell her, Dad. I just need more time. Once we take care of the Bianchis and Carlito, I’ll tell her everything.”

And that’s when it hits me: I can’t keep her. Not unless she chooses me. Once she’s truly safe, I’ll get the marriage annulled. It’s the right thing to do. The thing my father would want me to do. In the end, I want to be the best parts of him, even though I might never be.

“I’m sorry for being who I am, Dad. I know you’d never want this. I’ve killed too many in the name of revenge, but I’m not done yet. I won’t be done until every son of a bitch pays for your and Matteo’s deaths. You hear me, Dad? They’re gonna fucking wish they’d slit their own damn throats when I’m done.”

There’s a loud knock on the door—or more like a pounding. I instantly know it’s Enzo.

“Yeah?” I say before the door swings open.

“I have to talk to you. Call up Dom. Now. It’s important.”

Narrowing my eyes, I get out my cell. “What’s going on?”

“It’s about Joelle and the Bianchis.”

The phone rings twice before Dom answers.

“What’s up?” he asks, harshness marking his voice.

“How’s Chiara?” I ask him.

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