Page 53 of Love Without Control

“I’m not suicidal, Dane,” I assured him. His attention flashed to me, and I could see the vulnerability on his face, something I hadn’t seen before from him. “I’m not. I’m just sad, and I’m angry, and I’m… frustrated as hell.”

“Then show me that,” he said vehemently, his voice hoarse. “I have no idea what you’re thinking at any time except that you hate me. You… can you please just give me something—show me what you’re feeling from time to time—so I don’t constantly worry? Please?” That last word was spoken quietly, like a prayer, and I couldn’t help but nod my head.

“Okay, I’ll try.” I watched as his shoulders sagged in relief. Then I rolled my eyes and sighed. “And I don’t entirely hate you. You’re kind of okay sometimes.”

“Thanks, wifey.” His grin was a hundred percent mischief.

“Dear god, shut up,” I whined. “I take it all back. I hate you again.”

The low, deep chuckle from his chest told me he enjoyed aggravating me, but then he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Would you please not watch any more of those videos unless I’m with you?”

This man… this man was a contradiction of the highest proportion. He was gruff, a complete asshole, and a stone-cold killer. But somehow, he seemed to actually care about me.

So I replied with one bob of my head. “Will you tell me about your mom?” Dane froze, and I could feel him shutting down, could literally see the shutters closing over his brown eyes. “It’s a two-way street, Dane. You can’t ask me to be vulnerable and then turn into a block of ice when I ask you a personal question.”

He exhaled and stood, and I thought I’d pushed him too far. “Go get dressed, and we’ll take a walk on the beach.”

Sombrero Beach was only about a block away, and we toed off our shoes and left them beneath a tall palm tree when we reached the edge. I shuffled my feet, feeling the grit scrape the soles. I’d always loved being barefoot in the sand.

Dane reached for my hand as we took a left, and I stiffened. “Married, remember?” he said, winding his fingers between mine. It was warm and strong, and I hated that I liked it.

We walked for a couple minutes before he finally began speaking. “My sister’s name was Amara. She was two years older than me. When she turned eighteen, my father arranged for her to marry a man from one of the other crime families in New York. As a kind of good will gesture.”

“That’s disgusting,” I commented.

“I agree, but I think we’re both aware that Luca’s moral compass points due south, straight toward hell.” He guided us a little closer to the water as we walked. “Her new husband, Desmond, was heavy into drug trafficking, and after about a year, I started noticing changes in my sister.”

My lips twisted to the side. “She started taking drugs?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Amara was very kindhearted and way too good for that asshole, but she was also gullible. Fiero and I both tried to tell our father that she didn’t need to be with him, but of course, he didn’t listen.” Dane stopped our progress, turning to look out over the water. “Desmond started her out with pot and then eventually got her hooked on the harder stuff. She overdosed on her twentieth birthday.”

Turning my head, I pressed my forehead against Dane’s bicep. “I’m so sorry. You were just eighteen?”

“Yeah,” came his quiet reply. “My father ordered a hit on Desmond. Didn’t even fucking do it himself, like Amara’s life wasn’t worth the effort to him.” His muscles flexed in anger. “I would have done it with a smile on my face, but he ordered one of his goons to do it instead.”

“You were barely an adult yourself,” I protested.

Dane scoffed out a humorless laugh. “Welcome to my world, Eden. I killed my first man when I was fifteen.” My stomach rolled over in my abdomen.Fifteen?I felt his hand tighten on mine. “Don’t get the wrong idea about me. I’m not saying I’m an angel, but it’s not like I walked around whacking people every day or anything.”

“So what did you do all day if you weren’t a professional whacker?”

He snorted and shook his head. “I worked in one of my father’s legitimate businesses. I managed a nightclub.” We inched forward until the cool water lapped at our toes. “You caught me on a bad day with those two piss stains who hurt you. Before that, I hadn’t gottenshootyfor over a year.”

For some reason, that made me feel marginally better. We watched as a seagull swooped down and skimmed the water before rising into the air with a silver fish in his beak. Dane’s gaze followed the graceful bird until he was out of site with his prize.

With a long exhale, he spoke in a hushed tone. “My mother was devastated by what happened to my sister, and she shut down. Wouldn’t leave the house, barely talked to anyone. On the six-month anniversary of Amara’s death, she swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills.”

I had no words for that.I’m sorrydidn’t even come close to being adequate, so I turned and wrapped my arms around Dane’s waist, trying to give him even a little bit of comfort. He returned the embrace, his arms warm against the slight morning chill.

He lowered his cheek to the top of my head, and we stood like that for a long time before he finally said, “You’re short.”

I chuckled and looked up at him. “No, you’re just freakishly tall.” His eyes looked soft in the early light of the day, like someone had added the tiniest splash of cream to their coffee. Something fluttered deep in my gut, and I averted my gaze. “Will you tell me a good memory with your mom and sister?”

From my peripheral vision, I saw Dane turn his head toward the water.

“My best memories of my mom are from our kitchen. The house I grew up in was just a house, not a home. It was like living in the Vatican with all the artwork and elaborate decor. As kids, we weren’t allowed to touch anything, but Mama reigned over the kitchen. That was the only room that held any warmth.”

“If my mother didn’t have to pass through the kitchen to get to the wine cellar, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t even know where to find it,” I commented, and Dane made a sympathetic noise.

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