Page 91 of Possession

“She’s persnickety.” But Dante smiled, as if he liked that his cat hated most people. “Now then, your meal has been to your satisfaction? I am sorry I wasn’t able to make it down here before now. The bar level takes most of my attention at this busy time of year.”

“It’s delicious.” Grace licked her fork. “I wish you were in Boston. This is a bit far to go for takeout.”

“Anytime you wish it, we will make it happen. Anything for you, Grace.”

Her lashes fluttered as I simultaneously resisted a growl and rolling my eyes.

Couldn’t she see through Dante’s act? Or did swarthy good looks trump all?

Who was I kidding? Of course they did.

“As to our mutual acquaintances,” Dante said smoothly, “I’m afraid I probably don’t have the information you’re looking for. In the months before my father’s…unfortunate passing, we weren’t as close as we once were.”

I didn’t look at Grace, but I was quite aware of her setting down her fork. Information meant one thing to her, and that was something to do with her grandmother’s case.

So much for our fun, lighthearted date.

Even so, I couldn’t say I was that disappointed Dante had revealed my hand. I didn’t want to lie to her more than I had to. Yes, I wanted to shield her, but I also didn’t want to cause her irreparable damage with my unnecessary coddling. As well as causeusdamage. What I was hiding couldn’t harm us any more than the fact I was hiding it at all.

“Unfortunate passing?” I repeated, picking up my napkin from my lap and setting it beside my empty plate. “You murdered him in cold blood.”

Grace didn’t make a peep. Nor did she glance at Dante. Her attention was riveted on me.

“Come now, Blake, that’s hardly nice dinner conversation.” Dante gave us a wide smile and sat in the seat beside Grace and opposite me. “Your man, he plays hardball, I see.”

Grace fumbled for her napkin. “All his balls are in danger the more you both keep talking.”

Dante chuckled. “You have a feisty one on your hands, Blake.”

Didn’t I know it.

“Our fathers were best friends,” I said evenly to Grace. “Unfortunately, they also ended up dying the same way, via gunshot.”

Grace reached for her wine and took a fortifying sip, the largest I’d seen her take all evening. “But you didn’t kill your father,” she said, darting a glance at me as if she wasn’t certain she could make that assertion.

“Hardly. He was dead before I had the chance.”

Dante chuckled again. “You see,tesoro mia, things operate differently in our world. We value loyalty above all else.”

“Loyalty? Who is more loyal than family?”

“Well, now, that depends on the family in question, does it not?” Dante leaned forward and spoke conspiratorially. At this time of night, the restaurant had mostly cleared out, and we were tucked away at a “table of honor” in the back, for privacy’s sake. “In my case, my father had kidnapped the woman who is now my sister-in-law and the mother to my niece. He intended to murder her in cold blood. I saved her life.” He smiled thinly. “One might even call me a hero.”

“One might, if the story told wasn’t slanted in your favor.”

Dante’s thick dark brows knitted. “Oh, and I suppose you know the circumstances?”

“No. I don’t. I’ve been quite unconcerned with the families and what they’re doing since my father died and I cut all ties with the lot of them.” I absorbed Grace’s shock without acknowledging it.

Since I’d just basically admitted I’d been with the mob—albeit in a very distant way—I couldn’t say I blamed her.

“You cut ties. Completely,” Grace said shakily.

“Yes.”

“When, exactly?”

“I was twenty.”

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